"A month of detention? Professor McGonagall, there's no way I can fit that in with my NEWT revision, Quidditch practice and Head duties-"
A sour-faced McGonagall raised a hand to silence Ginny's flustered protest.
"You assaulted a student, Miss Weasley. And not just any student - the Head Boy at that. One months' detention and a Hogsmeade ban is me being lenient. And don't talk to me as if I don't know the situation you're in." Her beady eyes flashed with annoyance. "I have, in fact, been so kind as to create a schedule for you so the detentions are spread out over a longer period of time. You will do a month, but not in a month."
As ticked off as Ginny was, she did see the reality in McGonagall's punishment. She deserved what she'd been given.
"Thank you, Professor," Ginny said, a little begrudgingly.
"Hmph."
McGonagall stood up and made her way to the bookshelf on the left side of the study, her long velvet cloak trailing behind her despite the warm, cosy feel of the room.
"You may already know this, but Mr Malfoy will be joining you in your punishment."
She didn't turn around to make eye contact with Ginny, seeming too absorbed in looking for a book to notice the shock etched onto the girl's face.
"I did not already know this," Ginny spluttered. She shouldered off her book bag and let it thump to the floor, stepping towards the headmistress on shaky legs. "Why in Merlin's name is he in detention?"
McGonagall flipped a page of a thick volume of ancient runes. She then snapped the book shut, sending a shimmering cloud of dust into the air.
"Because he told me he wanted to be," she replied briskly.
Ginny's brain whirred with possible reasons why. T ruin her work, perhaps? Insult her to death? Curse her when teachers aren't around to see it?
But-
"You don't have to apologize."
Ginny didn't know what game he was playing at, and she wasn't eager to find out.
"I also believe the experience might serve as a way to mend the damage between you two," McGonagall said, cutting into Ginny's thoughts. "It'll help you both realize the important things to fight for."
Ginny had to refrain from rolling her eyes. "Do you know he completely sabotaged my Quidditch practices?" Her voice rose a little in volume. "Actually, you know all about that, don't you?"
"That is not the way you talk to your Headmistress!"
Ginny's cheeks flushed and she looked down at her feet. "Why'd you do it?" she mumbled.
McGonagall made her way back to her desk and sat with her fingers braced against her chin.
"Starting this week, what activities do you have going on at four o'clock every Saturday and Sunday?"
"Gryffindor House NEWT revision," Ginny said quickly, "but I don't see how that has anything to do with-"
McGonagall stopped her with a pointed look. Ginny blinked, realizing what she'd just said.
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed. Do you still think we're trying to sabotage your Quidditch practice, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny shook her head. Shame burned her ears the exact same colour as her hair.
"I believe we're finished here. You will report for your first detention this evening by the Room of Requirement. Mr Malfoy is joining you voluntarily. You are not to go to Hogsmeade for an indefinite amount of time. Mr Malfoy was doing you a favour by claiming a Quidditch slot where you're busy. Have I made things clear?"
"Crystal," Ginny muttered. McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, Professor McGonagall. Thank you for your time."
"You'll find the password has been changed to roly-poly. Don't laugh - the gargoyle is easily offended."
Ginny stormed out of the study as fast as her legs could carry her. Nausea climbed up her throat and her vision spun in and out of focus. Why was Malfoy so interested in her wellbeing all of a sudden? What were his motives? And how was she going to survive a whole month of detentions alone with him, especially after what she'd done?
Classes that day were a nightmare. Ginny's thoughts were far, far away from transfiguration and charms. She almost got twenty house points docked from Gryffindor after starting a particularly venomous spat with a Slytherin in her Arithmancy lesson.
At seven o'clock that night, Ginny made her way down the winding Hogwarts staircases to the Room of Requirement. Her belly had been in a constant state of churning unease since her meeting with McGonagall. Hermione's reaction to the news didn't help matters, either.
"What on earth has gotten into you lately?" Hermione had asked, practically breathless with frustration. "You know what we agreed on. Whenever you get angry, you come to me. Don't resort to your fists!"
"Five points from Hufflepuff!" Ginny called out to two sixth years playing with a pixie in the corridor. They stashed away their wands and the pixie blew a loud raspberry and fluttered off.
"Come on, we weren't hurting it," the shorter one whined.
"You want me to make that ten points?" Ginny asked sternly.
"Come off it, Weasley, we all know you've done worse," the other one retorted, his cackle reverberating off the cold stone walls. Ginny ignored him and marched on, her temper sizzling as she caught sight of Malfoy's platinum blond hair shining in the slanted moonlight.
"A little harsh, don't you think?" he told her when she reached the looming oaken doors. His eyes were bruised purple and his lip was puffy. Ginny wasn't prepared for the guilt that sliced into her.
"Torturing innocent magical creatures is not okay," Ginny said back, impassive. Malfoy looked amused, but she couldn't quite tell through all the swelling. The guilt hit again.
"You didn't deny that you'd done worse," he prompted, refusing to change the subject. "If I remember correctly, you and Dean Thomas got caught in this exact corridor-"
"Malfoy," Ginny interrupted through gritted teeth. "We need to talk."
The humour slid from Malfoy's face as quickly as it had come.
"About?"
"What do you think?" Ginny hissed.
"We could talk about a lot of things. Were you aiming to start with the battery or is that easier to hear after some small talk?"
"Malfoy, look-"
"We have a lot of time to talk, Weasley," Malfoy said, not letting her finish. "The whole evening, in fact. So let's just get to work."
"Okay, then," Ginny mumbled, a little surprised at his weirdly calm exterior. She reached out a hand and pushed the door open, blinking at the sight before them.
It was an enormous, moonlight-washed space so crammed with books Ginny was surprised that brightness could even penetrate it. Several enchanted ladders moved up and down the towering shelves, and floating candles bobbed about the cavernous ceiling. Dust coated everything in a thick grey blanket and a note lay nestled between two pots of ink and two large stamps. One was labelled 'Date', the other 'Author.'
Ginny looked at Malfoy. "Too late to tell McGonagall I have a dust allergy?"
Malfoy ignored her and sauntered into the room, letting the doors swing closed. They melted into the walls, leaving no trace of ever existing.
"Doors should reappear when we've completed what we need to do," Malfoy said. He was looking out one of the thin glass windows with a strange glister in his eyes.
"I'll take Author and you take Date?" Ginny asked, stooping down to pick up the stamps and offering one to him.
He nodded. "We'll start with the shelf on the left and make our way up."
Some of the books were old and some were new, but the only thing written on their covers were the titles. Ginny flicked through a thin red paperback called 'Letters to the Loneliest Wizard.'
'My dear Bernice,
My love for you is as vast as the sunlit horizon and as deep as the bottomless blue sea.'
Ginny stamped the first page hurriedly and passed it to Malfoy, trying not to betray emotion.
"You look rough, Weasley," Malfoy commented.
Ginny caught sight of herself in a dirt-speckled mirror - dark shadows lingered below her lids from countless nights of little to no sleep. Her wide, coffee-brown eyes were lackluster and tired, her hair a mess of ginger tangles. Even her freckles had become muddy and sallow.
"What do you care?" she asked, wrenching her eyes off her reflection when it became too much to bear.
Malfoy shook his head in defeat.
"Please let me apologise," Ginny sighed after ten minutes of quiet. The only sound other than the occasional flutter of a bat's wings was the gentle thud of stamp against parchment.
"Draco," Malfoy corrected.
"What?"
"Please, Draco, let me aplogise," Malfoy said again, a sparkle shimmering in his grey orbs that looked almost black in the poor lighting.
"Draco, please let me apologise for what I did to you," Ginny huffed. She didn't have the patience to argue back. "I lost control on the pitch and made a really big mistake. Hurting you like that was low, immature and irrational. Even though we have a bad history together-"
Malfoy snorted at that.
"- it doesn't give me the right to attack you. Verbally or physically."
She'd been reciting her speech the whole day, agonising over what words to use and how to convey that she really was sorry for what she'd done. What she hadn't done was prepare herself for the reaction that came next.
"It's alright."
What?
"What?" Ginny spluttered.
"I said it's alright," Draco repeated in a bored voice. "Are you deaf?"
"I-"
Ginny was at loss for words.
"Bold of you to assume you have the right to speak to me," she'd been expecting. "You're not going to get away with this," she'd been expecting. Merlin, even a "My father's going to hear about this," was better than his breezy acceptance of her apology and the genuine look of understanding on his haughty countenance.
"You don't have to apologize."
"Aren't you angry?" she asked in disbelief. "Don't you want to get me back?"
"Of course I do," Malfoy sneered. "No one has ever gotten away with something like this and not paid the price. My price."
Now this was the Draco Ginny was used to.
"But," he continued, "just because I want to take my revenge doesn't mean I'm going to. I could've hit you back on the pitch. And I didn't. Not because I didn't want to, but because my better judgement told me I shouldn't. You seem to be going through quite a lot, and although you may not believe this, there is some compassion hidden away in this warlock's hairy heart." He smiled a slow, wry smile. "Merlin knows I might even have deserved it."
Ginny rolled her eyes. But a smile was crawling onto her lips, too.
"So you're really not going to torture, maim or curse me?" Ginny questioned. "And you really do accept my apology?"
"I'm starting to think you really are deaf," Malfoy snorted. "But yes, I accept and wish to move on. We're Head Boy and Girl, seventh years and have lived through a War that almost ended the Wizarding World. A scuffle on the Quidditch grounds isn't that important in the grand scheme of things."
"You're so mature, Malfoy," Ginny simpered, properly teasing now. "One might say you're actually a good person beneath the sneer and the hair and the evil."
"You forget that we fought the same War, Weasley," Malfoy answered in a much more serious manner. "I may have started on the wrong side, but being a spy taught me things my old life never could have."
"Like compassion?"
"People aren't monsters," was all he said, not meeting her eye. "Just misguided."
There was another long silence, but nothing like the last one. Ginny felt comfortable. She found herself enjoying the routine of stamping, passing and picking up the books that smelled like dust and ink and history. She even found herself laughing aloud while Malfoy read from a couple of old, flamboyant texts in a voice that sounded eerily similar to his mother's.
"But sir!" he read, voice soaring into a pitch Ginny didn't know existed. "Beatrix's ears are sprouting toadstools at speeds not yet known to the magical community!"
"Calm yourself, Felicity," Ginny read in the gruffest, most manly tone she could muster, hiccupping down a storm of giggles. "We all knew Miss Woolworth's head was full of mushrooms anyway."
Malfoy wheezed with laughter and Ginny lost it too, tears streaming down her cheeks and stomach aching from the giggles.
"My mum used to read me The Woolworth Adventures when I was a kid," Ginny managed to say after they'd both caught their breath. "Terrance was my favourite character."
"Felicity Gnome is the best by far!" Malfoy cried in mock offence, quoting her most famous line in the book.
"You read them too?" Ginny asked, astonished.
"My mother loved them almost as much as I did. Why, is it wrong for me to enjoy the Woolworths?" he inquired.
"No, no, I just… well, didn't really picture you as the type to sit on your mum's lap while she read you stories, that's all," Ginny explained, wincing at how harsh the judgement sounded out loud.
"How did you picture me, then?" he asked. "Lurking around my mansion torturing innocent woodland creatures and setting things on fire for fun?"
Ginny swallowed, but before she could defend herself Malfoy began to talk in a low, almost conspiratorial voice.
"I suppose I was a bit of a sadist when I was younger," he mused. "I was definitely a bully."
"You got that right," Ginny commented.
"But I was loyal. I loved my mum, my dad, my family. I adored our heritage and name and the things that came with it. I was immeasurably proud of being a pureblood, too. Still am. Part of the reason I despised your family was because you were purebloods, too, but you weren't proud."
"We are proud," Ginny said softly. "Just of different things."
"I understand that now," Malfoy said, waving her off. "But back then, I couldn't. I just couldn't get how a family with such a large, untainted bloodline could be so dismissive of it. How they could think that it didn't matter. It upset me a little when you started going out with Potter - you just had to choose the filthiest, most pathetic little half-blood in existence."
"I don't know about the filthy half-blood thing, but he definitely is pathetic," Ginny sniffed. She stuffed the Woolworth Adventures back into the shelf and began stamping books at an alarming rate.
"What happened between you two?" Malfoy asked curiously. "You seemed to quite fancy each other."
"Gin, it's not you. It's… us."
"We've just jumped into this way too fast."
"How do you not understand that we're a train wreck waiting to happen?"
"We don't work."
"Let's just say I fancied him a lot more than he fancied me," Ginny replied, tight-lipped and sour.
Malfoy looked like he wanted to comment, but instead brought his stamp down on a fat leather volume and ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't think being in this room is easy for either of us," Ginny said quietly.
"Why's that?" Malfoy replied, putting his stamp down to look at her.
"Well… Harry used to do DADA lessons here, back when Dumbledore's Army was around."
"Before my Inquisitorial Squad ratted you out and ended it, you mean," Malfoy supplied dryly.
"Yeah," Ginny laughed. "But when it was still functioning, Harry was the best teacher I ever had. His attention towards me is what gave me my patronus."
Malfoy nodded, though Ginny knew he didn't understand.
"And you being here… I'm sure that doesn't feel too good."
Malfoy looked down at his spotless, exorbitant shoes. "The Room looked a lot different when I was working on the Vanishing Cabinet. I can just pretend we're somewhere else."
"We're not though," Ginny murmured. "Are we?"
He looked up, expression strained and difficult. "I'd just started working for Dumbledore when I was told to fix the Cabinet."
"How did Dumbledore react?"
Malfoy laughed through his nose. "Dumbledore was the one who told me to fix it."
It took a moment for Ginny to process what she'd been told. "Did he know you weren't able to kill him?"
Malfoy turned his head, colour on his cheeks. "Yes. He knew better than I did. I still wasn't completely sure whether I wanted to be his spy or not, but he knew that, too. His whole plan was to make sure I was put in a situation where I had to decide between killing him or betraying the Dark Lord."
"But why would he tell you to build the Cabinet if he didn't want you to kill him?"
"You're missing the point. He did tell me to kill him. He told me to build the Vanishing Cabinet, let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and kill him so the Dark Lord could be vanquished by Potty."
"And he told you to do all that knowing you couldn't kill him," Ginny confirmed, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"Exactly. By not killing him, I'd be betraying The Dark Lord and cementing my allegiance to the Order, even though I'd technically be betraying Dumbledore. He knew the Dark Lord would not lose his trust in me because of my father, so I'd be keeping that end, and Snape was there to kill Dumbledore anyway, fulfilling Dumbledore's plan. But even if I had killed Dumbledore, I would've been fulfilling his plan too, and cementing my allegiance to both the Order and the Dark Lord, just like Dumbledore wanted."
"So no matter what happened, Dumbledore won," Ginny breathed.
"And no matter what happened, Dumbledore died and I was a secret agent of the Order working against the Dark Lord."
"You can say his name, you know," Ginny told him. "Voldemort."
"Names have power, even if in death," Malfoy winced.
"So how come through all this extravagant secret double agent business, neither me nor my family had any idea you were working with us the whole time? Until you told me in the manor, of course."
"The whole point was it had to be a secret," Malfoy explained, shaking his head in annoyance. "If everyone knew, it wouldn't be authentic. The only people in the Order that knew I wasn't working with the Dark Lord were Shacklebolt and McGonagall. And I wasn't even working with them. I was working with Snape."
Harry had told Ginny the tragic story of Severus Snape a few weeks after he died. He'd shaken and cried in her arms for an hour. Ginny hated to think what Malfoy felt when that was Harry's reaction after seven years of abuse and bullying from the potions master, letting alone working with him and trusting him with your life every single day.
"Why don't you tell more people about it?" Ginny asked Malfoy, leaning against the bookshelf.
"Unlike some people, I care little for sympathy and praise. I find more glory in secrecy."
"You're so dramatic," Ginny said with a bemused smile. Malfoy's cheeks coloured again, which made Ginny smile even wider.
"You should at least tell Harry, though," she advised whilst resuming her book-stamping routine. "Of all people, he deserves to know."
"I'd rather tell Rita Skeeter than Harry Potter," Draco scoffed, disgust so palpable in his tone Ginny could almost taste it. "I may have personally changed in the last two years, but nothing changes me and Potter. He'll always be the insufferable, pompous brat that he was the first day I met him."
"Don't you hate it when he gets all Chosen-One-Humble, even though he's not being humble at all?" Ginny giggled. Warm excitement fluttered around in her chest at the sudden realization of opportunity.
Ginny could say whatever she wanted about Harry.
And Malfoy would agree.
"Do I hate it?" Malfoy asked sarcastically. "I love it! Because then he can talk all about how hard it was for him throughout the years, how he simply buckled under the weight of his greatness and having people eat out of his palm, but of course he doesn't want to be the Chosen One, does he?"
"And cue the simpering," Ginny snickered. "You know, when we were together, he used to tell me he'd miss Voldemort sometimes because he felt like he'd completed his purpose in life and now had nothing left for him to do."
Malfoy threw his head back and cackled. "I would act surprised, but that sounds so like Potter it's actually disgusting. I bet he's the kind of person that puts milk before his cereal."
"He is!" Ginny cried, openly laughing. "The first time he did it I almost broke up with him!"
For the next half hour, they chattered back and forth, making fun of Harry and snorting with mirth. Malfoy laughed so hard he had to sit down when Ginny did an impression of Harry's morning stretches. Before they knew it, the clock struck nine, and the doors of the Room of Requirement slowly melted back into existence, signalling it was their time to leave.
"Did we just stamp that entire shelf of books in two hours?" Ginny asked in awe as they made their way down the corridor back to their dormitories.
"I think we did," Malfoy replied, seeming rather pleased with himself. Ginny was about to comment on Malfoy's weird way of stamping the book pages when the low rumble of a male voice wafted through the air, stopping them in their tracks.
"Do you hear that?" Ginny hissed. Malfoy nodded, bringing a finger to his lips. They tiptoed their way towards the source. As they got closer, the sinking feeling in Ginny's stomach grew stronger and stronger. She caught sight of a mop of salt and pepper hair and bit her cheek to keep herself from gasping.
It was Tungstern, talking animatedly with Beckett, his dead hand flopping by his side as he gestured.
Ginny sent Malfoy a look they both understood: they'd be coming back to the dormitories late tonight. Ginny pressed herself against the wall and Malfoy peeped his head around the corner to get a better visual.
"It's just them," he whispered. Ginny strained to hear Tungstern's words clearly.
"… you made it, and that's a crime in itself. You're lucky I haven't decided to just take it and report you to the Ministry."
"Gerry, I don't know what you're talking about-"
"Playin' dumb ain't an option right now, Rosie. You either work with me or suffer the consequences," Tungstern snarled. Ginny squirmed for the poor witch he was threatening, the memory of her caring words and kind embrace still fresh at the front of her mind.
"Let's hex him," she whispered to Malfoy. The glare he sent her made her physically shrink back in alarm.
"… I don't know what schemes you're cooking up, Gerome, but I'm certainly not going to be a part of them."
"You became part of 'em when you made the damn thing!"
Ginny's eyes widened as she realized the glass jar she'd caught Tungstern stealing must've been the thing he was talking about.
"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about. Please listen-"
"I have people that can ruin you," Tungstern growled. Ginny's blood ran cold. "Watch yourself, Beckett. I'm not finished with you."
His heavy gait rang out across the floor -
In the direction where Ginny and Malfoy were hiding. Malfoy swore under his breath and took out his wand. He cast a wordless disillusionment charm over himself and disappeared. Ginny fumbled with her own wand, panicking as Tungstern's steps got closer. Her hands shook so hard she dropped her wand with a painful clatter.
"Idiot!" Malfoy whispered. She scowled at the space where she assumed he was and bent down to pick up her wand.
"Miss Weasley?"
Oh, Godric.
"Professor Tungstern!" Ginny squeaked, leaping to her feet. "Sorry, I was just on my way back from detention and dropped my wand."
"I can see that," Tungstern answered, as if he wasn't just threatening abuse to an innocent woman that Ginny cared about just half a minute ago.
"Um, it's quite late, so I think I'll-"
"I have a question for you, Weasley." Here we go again. Ginny felt herself bristle up, but plastered a fake grin on her face.
"If it's about my last essay, I'm really, really sorry."
"No, no," he chuckled frostily, crooked teeth on display. "It's about the episode you had yesterday."
"I didn't have an episode yesterday." She hadn't had an episode all week. In fact, the last episode she'd had was back in the Great Hall in September. She'd been so occupied with being Head Girl and bantering with Malfoy that she'd simply had to push down all her feelings and force herself to plough on. Malfoy distracted her. He kept her on the brink rather than in the abyss.
It did not please her to think about.
"Not that kinda episode," Tungstern said. "Your episode on the Quidditch pitch with Malfoy."
"So everybody knows about that, then?" Ginny asked. She was trembling. This man made her so nervous she wondered if he had hexed her.
"What did it feel like?"
Ginny frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, what did it feel like when you were beatin' him?" Tungstern repeated, impatience hitching his voice.
Horrified, Ginny said, "Sir, that's not a question I think is appropriate to ask a student."
"No, you stupid-"
He took a deep breath and cleared his features of anger. "I'm sorry. I wasn't clear. Mentally, what was your state when you were hittin' him? Were you upset, numb?" He paused for effect. "Feelin' like you weren't in control?"
"I was just angry, I suppose," Ginny gulped. "Professor, may I ask why you're interested-"
"Just angry?" he interrupted once again. "Nothing else?"
"I might've lost control a bit, but yeah, nothing else." What was Tungstern trying to get out of her?
"You didn't hear a voice in your head or anythin', tellin' you what to do?"
bloodtraitorfilthytraitorbetrayedme-
"I don't know," she lied. "May I please go to bed, sir?"
Tungstern let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Go. Just- never mind."
He plodded away in the opposite direction, arm swinging like a pendulum. Ginny's knees began to shake. A fat, wet lump bobbed up and down in her throat. She moved to brace her back against the wall, but leaned against something warm and squishy.
"Ow! That's my face, weasel!"
Malfoy muttered the counter-incantation to his disillusionment and seemed to solidify out of thin air.
The look on his face made Ginny feel even worse than she already did.
"We have a lot more to talk about, Ginevra Weasley."
Ginny nodded, unable to form words.
"And we have a lot of snooping around to do during the Halloween Ball as well."
She looked up in confusion.
"We're sneaking out to take a look at what precious ingredient Tungstern stole from Beckett," Malfoy announced. "What better moment to do it than when every teacher in Hogwarts is crammed into the Great Hall?"
Ginny just stared at him, a small smirk emerging from her tight, worried expression.
"I've really gotten you into this, haven't I?"
Malfoy leaned back against the wall, a strange glimmer in his eyes. "Not because of you, Weasley. And not for you, either."
xxx
Ginny sighed in frustration and slammed her quill down on the mahogany table.
"I am not removing floating pumpkins from the decorations list, you selfish brat. Pumpkins have been a Halloween tradition for as long as I can remember."
Malfoy groaned and buried his face into his hands. It was about a week and a half before the Halloween ball and they still hadn't finished making decisions on food, décor or music. A wild, torrential squalor howled outside their study, rattling the windowpanes and lashing rain against the glass. The fire was almost burnt to cinders and Ginny shivered unconsciously despite her heated frustration.
"Pumpkins are outdated and tradition is overrated." Stubbornness was evident in his annoyingly perfect posture. "Besides, no one wants pumpkin juice dripping into their hair while they're dancing."
"You're impossible," Ginny snapped.
"Why, thank you," Malfoy said dryly.
"Ugh!"
Ginny stood up and stomped toward the window, casting a quick silencing spell over it and resting her agitated forehead against the darkened glass.
"We've been arguing about pumpkins and bats for the past hour and gotten nowhere," Malfoy drawled from behind her back. "Have you even tried to make a decision without thinking about yourself? You know, I told you this was a waste of my time."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Ginny growled. "This is hopeless. You're hopeless. We should just cancel the bloody ball. And don't get all high and mighty on me, Mister I-Have-So-Many-Better-Things-To-Do."
"There is a perfectly empty transfiguration essay waiting for me on my desk in the room you're standing in front of," Malfoy snapped. "Don't test me. I'd choose parchment over you any day, weaselette."
Ginny drew in a sharp breath, trying desperately to calm down.
It didn't work.
"Do you want a repeat of the Quidditch pitch, ferret? Because I am so ready to break that big haughty nose of yours."
"Put your filth on me again and you'll regret it for the rest of your sorry existence," Malfoy snarled.
The air crackled with electric charge. Ginny could taste the rage wafting off the two of them like acid.
"What are we doing?" she whispered.
Malfoy collapsed, lips pursed and jaw ticcing.
"Let's finish this. Please," Ginny said. "If we continue we're going to rip each other's throats out. And as appealing as that sounds-"
Malfoy sniffed.
"-it's not beneficial to either of our futures."
Fifteen minutes later, they'd completed the ball plans and sent them to Flitwick with Malfoy's magnificent tawny owl, Hannibal.
The theme was Halloween fancy dress, and the Great Hall would be transformed with an orange and black colour scheme, a combination of floating pumpkins (much to Malfoy's chagrin), swarms of ornamental bats and a band of enchanted skeletons playing a medley of all the best seasonal ballads. Slime green punch would be available at every table and the kitchens were cooking up an assortment of creepy snacks. It wasn't fancy or extravagant, just simple and relaxed.
Something Hogwarts was in desperate need of.
"If you tell me you're going as a vampire I'm going to hex you," Ginny said as they lay sprawled over the settee, exhausted and grouchy.
"You must be glad you don't have to spend money on a costume. Being an ugly hag has its advantages, it seems," Malfoy bit at her.
"Not that I could afford a costume anyway," Ginny said, sarcasm lacing her words. "Or were you saving that one for later?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't. But thank you for bringing it up."
"Can we go over the Tungstern plan, please? I'm sick of your insults." Ginny said with a tired huff.
"I've explained it enough to be satisfactory. I pull you out of the Great Hall in the middle of the ball when everyone's dancing the most, we sneak down to the DADA classroom and get back in half an hour tops. If we're asked, we're changing costumes."
"But what are we looking for?" Ginny asked, exasperated. "A glass jar is part of a very wide range of things."
"We're looking for something dangerous, possibly illegal. Weren't you part of the group of idiots in the department of mysteries a few years ago? You didn't know what you were doing back then."
"That was different!" Ginny protested.
"It's always different with Potter, isn't it?" Malfoy said in his silkiest voice.
"Won't it look weird if we just disappear off together in the middle of the ball, though? It's not exactly a secret that we hate each other."
"No one will notice."
"Well, have you got a date yet?" Ginny prodded, testing dangerous waters.
"I do not." Malfoy's eyes were trained blankly on the ridges of the carpet. Ginny shivered again.
"Well…" She felt sick and uncomfortable forcing the words out. "If we're leaving together… don't you think we should, um, go together?"
"I don't think that's necessary," Malfoy quipped. Ginny frowned. She was expecting a lot of things from him, but not that reaction.
"How are we supposed to not look suspicious if we aren't going together? It's not logical, Malfoy."
"What kind of ideas will people get if we do sneak off together as dates, then, Ginny?" Malfoy asked, smirk making its appearance. He sat up abruptly and stared right into her dark brown eyes, making her heart stutter against her ribs. "What exactly are you wanting people to think we're doing?"
Ginny's face turned the hue of overripe beetroot. "I- you- that's- no," she spluttered. "I didn't-"
Goosebumps crawled over Ginny's arms, but this time not from the cold.
Malfoy chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Don't worry, my dear weasel. That's an idea no one in their right mind would ever allow the displeasure of entertaining."
Ginny's chest felt like it had been in a wrestling match with the Whomping Willow and came out the loser.
"You repel me, Malfoy."
"Likewise, darling." His eyes glittered.
"Get out," she whispered, voice hoarse. "You make me sick." Her stomach really was churning. But with what, she didn't know. And that was the thing that made her want to vomit most.
Malfoy slid off the sofa and gathered his things like the slug he was. "I'm starting my essay in my study space. Go to bed, Weasley."
Ginny said nothing, afraid that words would spur her into another attack that Malfoy would not escape from without a few missing teeth.
She collapsed onto the couch cushions and closed her eyes, trying to centre herself and clear her mind.
When she opened them again, watery dawn sunlight showered her face. Ginny arched her back, stretching the muscles that had seized up from the uncomfortable position she'd fallen asleep in. She cursed herself for not making it to bed and then noticed a strange weight resting on her body.
It was a blanket - emerald green and fuzzy, covering her from her shoulders to her toes. A glass of water sat on the coffee table and a note in immaculate cursive script fluttered next to it.
'Sorry.'
Ginny blinked the sleep from her eyes and wondered if this was all a dream.
xxx
"So, Head Girl, you've finally lowered yourself to sitting with the likes of us?"
Seamus Finnigan's usual impish grin wasn't nearly as wide as it usually was. He staggered over to join the table Ginny, Hermione, Dean, Neville and Luna had taken over with piles of smudged parchment and textbooks.
"Seamus, shut it! You're going to scare her away," Dean snickered, elbowing Neville in the side. "What's it like slumming it with the peasants?" he teased. "You miss Malfoy yet?"
"You really haven't been spending much time with us lately, Ginny," Luna commented in a dreamy voice, staring at a knobbly turnip she was trying to animate. "We miss you."
Ginny ducked her head, wishing she could just disappear into the fat edition of transfiguration text she was desperately cramming before her practical in half an hour. She knew it was a bad idea coming to the library to revise with her fellow Gryffindors and Luna. For one thing, 'revision' was really just a code word for joshing-around-with-enchanted-paper-planes-and-procrastinating, and she was not at all comfortable with the hostile atmosphere hanging over her head.
"It's just - I've been, well, busy," Ginny lied. She fumbled with the cuffs of her robes, trying not to meet anyone's eye. "I'm sorry. I'm really not trying to avoid you or anything like that."
"We know, Ginny, we're just teasing," Hermione said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
But she squeezed a little too hard for Ginny's liking.
"For real, though, what have you been doing all this time with Malfoy?" Neville inquired. "It must be torture having to spend so much of your day with a snake like him."
Ginny groaned and clutched her heart dramatically. "You don't even know. It's awful. He's literally the most pompous, spoiled little pig you could ever meet. I'm gonna kill him one of these days, I swear."
'You don't have to apologize.'
'Of course nobody else in the world has feelings, especially the ferret.'
'Sorry.'
"… but I suppose I am sort of getting used to him." Her vocal chords had gone clumpy.
Dean's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, getting used to him? He's a Death Eater. You can't just get used to that."
"He's not a Death Eater," Ginny laughed, shaking her head and burying her nose into her book.
The, heavy, sour quiet forced her to look up. Every eye was glaring accusatorily.
"What?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defence. "He's not, okay? Death Eaters are gone. Voldemort's gone. All of that? It's over."
Her neck felt muggy and warm, and her pulse thrummed wildly in her chest.
"That's exactly something a Death Eater like him would say," Neville scoffed.
"Speak of the devil," Hermione murmured. True enough, Draco Malfoy's tall, looming figure strolled into the library and took his seat at a desk on the opposite side of the room.
She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking first.
"Say, Gin, how're the ideas for the ball getting on?" Seamus barged in. Ginny shrugged, not very interested in indulging her plans with him.
"Alright, I guess. We've told Flitwick everything we need. All that's left is getting everyone in the Great Hall on time on Saturday."
"That's great to hear," Hermione said, dispassionate. Ginny wasn't sure what to think about her bland tone.
"Is Fred coming to take you, Hermione?" Luna asked, blinking like she did whenever she sensed a swarm of wrackspurts.
"Yeah," Hermione blushed. "We've got matching dress robes and everything."
"Same! Me and Polly are going as Sir Luckless and Amata," Dean said, winking.
"Neville and I haven't decided yet," Luna grinned. "But I'm keen on the idea of a banshee and ghoul combination."
"We're still discussing it, love, remember?" Neville said quickly.
Seamus raised his eyebrows at Ginny. "I feel so single it physically hurts."
Ginny giggled. Seamus' eyes lit up all of a sudden.
"Hey! We should go together, you and me. It'll be a riot."
"Um…"
"Hold your horses, Finnigan," Hermione butted in. "Ginny's already going with someone. Me."
Ginny blinked and looked involuntarily up at Malfoy, who seemed a tad too calm and collected.
"I… um, I… well, sorry," Ginny stammered, "but I already have a date."
If Ginny didn't know better, she almost thought she saw the corner of Malfoy's mouth twitch with a smile.
Hermione didn't look so happy.
"You what?" she asked, face red and shiny and furious. "Since when?"
"Er- last week, I suppose," Ginny replied. Sweat dripped under her arms and down her back. This was not what she had expected from the afternoon.
"Last week? Why on earth didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't come up," Ginny said, shifting on her chair. "Calm down, it's just a dance."
Hermione's cheeks went positively purple.
"No, Ginny, it's not just a dance. It is so much bigger than that. You've been a really rubbish friend lately, and I'd like to know why you think it's okay to hide things from me all of a sudden."
"I wasn't hiding things from you. I told you, it didn't come up in conversation."
"It shouldn't have to! When I told you I was going with Fred, you should've told me you were going with someone as well. I just assumed you would go with us because you didn't mention anything." Hermione's hair had come undone and flew around her face in a storm of brown frizz.
"I think Nev and I have to go, uh, do something," Dean grimaced. Hermione grabbed his arm.
"Don't even think about leaving. This isn't something between me and Ginny, it's between us all."
"What are you talking about?" Ginny snapped. She felt Malfoy's steady gaze on her and clenched her fists.
"Have I not been clear? You've been so distant from us it's like we don't even know you anymore," fumed Hermione. "But I suppose you haven't noticed because we're just not important enough for you. Are we?"
Ginny's jaw went slack. She looked around for support but no one seemed willing to back her up. Not even Luna.
"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling like this, Hermione? If I had known I would have-"
"I did tell you!" Hermione roared. Ginny leaned back, shocked at the sudden raise in her friend's voice. Hermione never shouted. Never. "Every time you talked to me, cancelled plans, ignored me, I told you. You used to be observant. Did you not notice that I was annoyed and dropping hints that I was upset?"
Ginny didn't bother protesting. She didn't want to lie to Hermione now, too.
"What about you, though, Granger?" Ginny's own pride flared up out of nowhere. "What about the times you ignored me when I was clearly unhappy and missing Harry and Ron and Fred? What about the times you completely ignored me for Fred even though I obviously needed your support after Harry split up with me and we were all recovering from the War?"
"It's all about you, isn't it?" Hermione hissed. Her voice dropped dangerously low and it made Ginny scared, actually made her scared. "It's always about you and your problems, you and your grief. You're so selfish. I can't believe you."
"Can we not do this in the middle of the library?" Their little fight had garnered almost every students' attention. Malfoy's regard hadn't left her for a second.
"Who is he?" Hermione asked, ignoring her. "Who is this precious date of yours?"
Ginny stood up, straightening her back and looking down her nose at the shocked faces of her friends huddled around the table.
"Draco Malfoy."
She spun on her heel and walked off. The expression on Malfoy's face was unreadable, but she could still feel his eyes on her back long after she flounced her way out of the library.
xxx
a/n: Sooooo a lot more D/G interaction here, what do you think? They still basically hate each other's guts but they know they can get along... therefore they are dancing around it in the most confusing, idiotic way possible.
Love these characters.
Please drop a review, they mean the world! Thanks so much for your feedback, Ghostwriter71, it's really helpful.
