"Malfoy."

"What?"

"D'you remember the time you told me Harry didn't like my valentine?"

"Vividly."

"I've been wondering this for years."

"Go on."

"How did you know I sent it?"

Malfoy's grey gaze sagged, heavy lidded in the early morning darkness. They'd woken up at four o'clock to listen to the Holyhead Harpies match. Malfoy looked oddly vulnerable crouched next to the radio in his blue satin pyjamas. His hair was a mess and his skin was puffy and his voice rasped with pre-dawn exhaustion.

"Why do you want to know now, of all times?"

Because I can't stop thinking about the things you've said to me. Because two weeks ago, what you told me after the Ball made me see something in me I've never allowed myself to acknowledge. Because you're proving to be someone other than the person I know you to be and the more I think about it the more it hurts, so please will you just tell me what lies behind this memory I have of you before I explode -

"No reason. Just popped into my head, that's all."

Malfoy yawned and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. The radio chattered and squeaked with the commentator's agitated tones. Harpies were losing badly, but the game had only just started. Besides, Ginny's mind wandered far from quidditch.

"My father had told me to keep tabs on you in second year."

"He what?"

Malfoy's chuckle was rough as sandpaper. "He knew how appalled I'd be and needed me to understand that I was an instrument in his grand scheme of things, not just his son. The importance of those roles were interchangeable."

"What do you mean, grand scheme of things?" Ginny questioned, sitting up a bit. She tucked her choppy, loose hair behind her ears and turned down the radio's volume a fraction.

"You were his one hope of bringing back the Dark Lord, my dear. Don't you remember?"

filthylittlegirldirtytraitorpayforthispayformerevengerevengerevenge-

Ginny winced. "Yeah. I remember. And if you call me my dear ever again I will bat-bogey-hex you till the day you die."

Malfoy looked distracted. His chin puckered, clearly in another world. "At first I treated it like a joke. Spying on a firstie, a Weasley at that. It is quite laughable."

"Was. You wean was." Ginny smacked him hard with a couch cushion. He smirked.

"However, it turned out your life was a lot more interesting than I thought."

Ginny ducked her head to hide her colouring cheeks. "I mean, when a sixteen year old Voldemort is trying to manifest himself into your eleven year old body through emotional and psychological manipulation then I agree, life would be pretty interesting."

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said quietly. "This isn't something to joke about."

Ginny grunted. Ever since their shouting match on Halloween - or really, her shouting match, as he'd hardly even raised his voice - Malfoy had been acting even more different than before. Less insufferable. He hadn't spoken a word of that night, other than the discovery they'd made about Tungstern, but it was as if nothing had happened. Of course, he was still a complete troll, but Ginny sometimes felt that she may have hope of not committing ferret-induced suicide at the end of the year if he kept this up.

"Your obsession with Potter was sort of sweet, though. In a revolting, childish, toxic way. I was actually going to send you a valentine in his name, you know." He cut Ginny off before she could bellow in outrage. "But just as I was about to tell the dwarf, he received your poem for Potter, and I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"I'm flattered," Ginny growled. "Such chivalry, such honour. Deciding not to destroy a little girl's soul through spite and malice? I'm proud of you, Malfoy."

"Ginny," Malfoy said earnestly, himself sitting up too. The familiar prickle at the use of her name erupted over Ginny's freckled skin. "I'm serious. I hated you. More than Ronald, more than those two mangy gits you call twins, more than Prissy Percy. Merlin, I almost hated you as much as Potter. But when I saw the valentine you were sending him, for some reason couldn't do it. I hated you even more if that were possible, but I began to see things from your perspective a little."

The tears pooling in Ginny's eyes came as an unwelcome surprise.

"I was jealous of you, too." His voice chafed but not with sleep anymore. "That year, it was like my father cared about you more than he cared about me. He chose you to summon the Dark Lord. Not me. He made me watch you to make sure things were going to plan even though I didn't have a clue as to what was happening at the time. And I was supposed to be okay with that."

"Malfoy-"

"And the worst part was, you were everything I hated in a person. You worshipped Potter, your family are the worst kind of blood traitors, you were poor and still seemed to be happy, and you were so kind and innocent despite everything happening around you. I couldn't fathom how you managed it all. I didn't understand."

"Do you now?"

His expression darkened. "I'm getting there."

Ginny swallowed down a forced breath. Counted to three. Looked up at the ceiling for strength that didn't come. "Look where all that got me, though. Really think about it. I got to date the boy of my dreams, only for him to break my heart and run away to the other side of the world. My status as a blood traitor is something I'll never forget."

She pulled up her pyjama sleeve and shakily revealed the scar torn by Bellatrix into her skin.

'BLOOD TRAITOR'

(The scar he'd impassively watched tortured onto her from a distance).

"I'm still poor and I'm definitely not happy."

Malfoy's fists clenched so hard his knuckles grew whiter than ivory.

"And kindness? What has that ever done for me? Innocence? I lost that a long, long time ago."

"You never lost your kindness," Malfoy whispered. His face seemed to be wrestling with itself and Ginny didn't know what to make of it. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Don't, Malfoy. Just don't."

He sighed and waved his wand over the radio, shutting it off completely. "I'm not proud of what I did back then. And I mean everything I say. Please understand that. Honestly, one of the only things I am proud of as a child is not sending you that valentine."

"Then why did you have to say Harry didn't like mine in front of everyone?" Ginny's voice finally cracked. "Why did you have to embarrass me?"

It took a solid minute for Malfoy to reply.

"I said he didn't like it because I liked it. I wouldn't let you believe he appreciated it the same as I did."

Ginny couldn't open her mouth for the rest of the morning. They listened to the match for the next two hours as dawn filtered through the castle walls. When the Harpies eventually caught the snitch, Malfoy got to his feet and left her sitting on the sofa still as stone and pale as death.

xxx

Fading afternoon dribbled against the Herbology greenhouse windows and into the seventh year students' bones.

Platinum blond and fiery ginger halos frizzed along Ginny and Malfoy's brows. It was the day after the Harpies' quidditch triumph. Ginny's elation had been successfully crushed by the unnatural November greenhouse heat.

They were adding billywig fertilizer to their amorous geranium troughs, dirt caked under their fingernails and collars damp with sweat. Professor Sprout had draped herself across a vine lattice. She fanned her chest with a piece of parchment and mumbled praise every now and again. Having failed to tell her students about the heat produced from the fertilizer reaction, a sad mountain of hats, scarves and cloaks had been abandoned by the corner of the greenhouse.

"Stop staring at me."

"I'm not staring at you, ferret. Our billywig juice is congealing."

"…"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've got mud on your nose."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"…"

"Will you stop staring?"

"Malfoy-"

"It's okay, you can admit it. I am the handsomest wizard in all of Hogwarts. I don't blame you for looking, honestly- WEASLEY!"

"You've got mud on your nose."

"I hate you."

Despite the suffering, Malfoy's spirits were through the roof, and Ginny did not return the vigor.

"Ow!" she yelped, the root of her geranium nipping her finger and drawing blood. Malfoy peered over and inspected the wound with raised eyebrows soaked in perspiration.

"Get out of my space, Malfoy."

"Being Herbology partners kind of defeats that concept, Weasley."

Ginny kneaded her billywigs with intimidating intensity. "A concept defeated against my will, if you don't remember. I was going to be Neville's partner until Sprout declared herself Matchmaker."

"Matchmaker, you say?" He leaned in closer, grinning wickedly.

Ginny gulped. "You stink of B.O."

Malfoy grinned even wider. "Is it a coincidence that you insult me every time you're in defeat?"

"I'm not in defeat!" Ginny spluttered. She thanked the raging temperatures within the greenhouse that hid the blush creeping up her skin. "You're just trying to make me feel uncomfortable. Which you don't have to try to do, trust me."

Malfoy turned back to his geraniums, that stupid smile still plastered on his lips. "Need I elaborate further?"

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Did you find anything in the library on ragwort earlier?"

"Cunning change of subject, but no," Malfoy drawled like the Slytherin he was. "I found books on Ragburn, hag wart, Bogworth and Ragg's Port, but nothing on ragwort."

Their ceaseless research on the mysterious ragwort had come to no fruition. Combing through almost every book in the library proved useless. There was only one ray of hope: the confirmation of their suspicions about Tungstern through Mr and Mrs Weasley's letter to Ginny.

Tungstern had been an illegal herb trafficker for Voldemort and ragwort was undoubtedly of dangerous origin. Why he'd forced Beckett to make it through the Imperius curse was still a mystery, but the thing they needed to find out first was what the jar of shimmering pollen was.

An eruption of dust clouds from the trough next to them sent both into an uproarious coughing fit.

"Sorry," Parvati Patil said sheepishly. Ginny pulled a grimace and ducked her head closer to Malfoy's, making sure none of the class was listening before she continued.

"The only thing I found yesterday," Ginny whispered, "was a common muggle plant called non-magical poisonous ragwort that, and I quote, "is completely useless except for hurting grazing animals' livers."

Malfoy gave a low whistle. "I cannot wait to explain to my mother that the reason I caught herpes was fake snogging you in Tungstern's office because of liver poison."

A minute later, Professor Sprout had to bustle Malfoy to the hospital wing to treat a billywig-juice-infected eye. Ginny Weasley did not apologise.

Three days of pointless research went along. As Ginny and Malfoy were brewing the draught of living death in double potions, a thought struck her out of the blue.

"What's the other way of getting Pale-Eye, Malfoy?"

The Head Boy paused, a vial of asphodel in one hand and a pipette in the other.

"This isn't the best time." His tone told her that there would never be a good time for that particular question.

"But what if knowing helps us with our ragwort problem?" Ginny protested. She'd cast an inconspicuous Muffliato when Beckett wasn't looking so they wouldn't have any eavesdroppers.

"I highly doubt that," Malfoy scoffed. Then swore as Ginny's elbow connected with his ribs and knocked his pipette onto the workbench.

"What happened to not withholding information from each other?" she snapped, planting a hand firmly next to his clenched fist and staring straight into his downcast eyes.

Malfoy seethed. "Repeated exposure to dark potion making ingredients. Happy now?"

"Not in the slightest."

He slumped back onto the grimy dungeon stool - an action that became more and more frequent as he and Ginny spent more and more time together.

Ginny still hadn't managed to make up with Hermione and the others. She didn't intend to, despite Fred's pointed letter. Only Neville and Luna remained in a state of semi-okayness, and Ginny was absolutely fine with that arrangement.

The only problem was that she was spending more and more time with Malfoy. It was disconcerting how she'd actually forget how much of a troll he was when they'd chat about the Holyhead Harpies or lessons, or squabble back and forth good-naturedly. Ginny thanked Merlin every day that Tungstern had obviously told no one about his run-in at Halloween. Hogwarts still seemed to express nothing but casual suspicion over the nature of the Head Boy and Girl's relationship. It comforted Ginny that at least one thing remained the faintest semblance to sane.

Looking down on him, Malfoy's hair was a mess of platinum curls falling over his forehead, practically glowing in the dungeon lamps. Ginny had the strangest urge to brush it back with her fingers and wondered whether it was as soft and silky as it looked. She punched him in the shoulder instead, disgusted at herself, and he stomped on her foot in retaliation.

"Malfoy! Weasley! Behave!"

"Yeah, Weasley, behave." Eyes glittering, he chucked Ginny's entire asphodel vial into the bubbling cauldron they'd been working on for the past hour. Black flames erupted from the top and Ginny shrieked, jumped backwards and felt desperately at her eyebrows to make sure they were still there.

"I'm going to kill you," she mouthed over Beckett's shoulder. The potions mistress clucked and fussed over the sooty sludge that was supposed to be their draught of living death. She gave them a new chemical starter and a series of sharp reprimands that weren't all that sharp considering the dimples indented into her cheeks.

"Definitely got her Pale-Eye from a dragon," Malfoy confirmed as they toted their books out of the dungeons. "She even has a scar in her eyebrow from where the claw scratched her. Plus, Beckett and dark potion making don't exist together. End of."

Ginny nodded absent-mindedly, not paying attention. She studied Hermione and Parvati squealing over a letter that shot tiny showers of hearts every three seconds. It was obviously from Fred. She tried not to retch on Malfoy's overpriced shoes.

"… ready for the Quidditch match unless you up your game. Yeah, Weasley? Weasley? GINNY!"

"Hm?" Ginny blinked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and thrust a wad of paper into her arms. "Just sign this and meet me in the library at seven, alright?"

At seven thirty, Ginny had reached her boiling point. All day, Seamus Finnigan and Hermione Granger had been serving her dirty looks and backhanded comments. She'd failed her Transfiguration mock exam in a spectacular show of idiocy and was running on three hours of sleep after pulling an all-nighter to study for said mock exam. And to top it all off, it had well and truly dawned on her that she was spending more time with Draco Malfoy than she ever had with anyone else in her life.

The thought sent her intestines writhing.

She collapsed into the chair he'd pulled out for her and glared at him over the towering stacks of reference books piled up on their library cubicle - as if it would make a difference to her predicament.

"The lions are going to crush you in the match tomorrow," was her greeting. She pulled a six hundred year old Transylvanian Herbology manual off her pile and began skimming the contents for anything suggestive of ragwort. "I can confidently say that I'm the greatest quidditch captain Hogwarts has ever seen."

"In your humble opinion, Weaselette," Malfoy snickered. "You're lucky you haven't gotten a chance to see us snakes. If you had, you'd cancel the match."

"Out of sympathy, maybe."

Her ears pricked up at an onslaught of whispers rippling through the library. She got the eerie sensation that people were watching her. The air was antsy. People held their breath.

"Why is everyone whispering?" Ginny asked in a hushed voice.

Malfoy's expression grew tight. Ginny made to turn around in her seat but he grabbed her wrist before she could. The sudden contact of skin on skin exploded her nerve endings.

"Ignore them." Malfoy's stare burned into the book pile. His jaw set in the way Ginny knew meant defiance.

She slid her hand out of his and managed to choke, "Ignore who?"

Hundreds of eyes seemed to suddenly zone in on the Head Boy and Girl. The wispy hairs at the back of Ginny's neck stood on end as if electrocuted.

"Hello, Ginevra!"

Ginny knew why Malfoy had stopped her turning around. The speaker's voice was so chipper it felt like a douse of cold water.

"Hey, Ginny!"

"Weasley!"

"What's goin' on, Gin?"

"Ginny! Hi!"

"'Ello, 'ello, how's my favourite ginger?"

Hermione, Parvati, Dean, Seamus and an embarrassed looking Neville and Luna pressed around Ginny and Malfoy's cubicle with bright eyes and wolfish smiles. Hermione's grin was so strained it looked more like she was baring her teeth. They all slapped and shoved Ginny on the shoulder.

"Oops!" Parvati squealed, elbowing the stack of volumes onto Malfoy's lap. He let out a grunt of pain.

"Whatcha reading?" Seamus sing-songed, plucking Ginny's book from her grasp and promptly dropping it to the floor. "Sorry, butterfingers!"

"I do so hope you don't mind us joining you this evening," Hermione simpered, sticking her face right into Ginny's personal space. "But we just never see you anymore and it's upsetting us, isn't it?"

"Too right it is."

"Abso-bloody-lutely."

"We miss you, Gin-Gin!"

Ginny sucked air between her teeth. Her heart pounded like a gong. The seventh years' leering faces and close proximity made her head swim and her thoughts race a mile a minute.

"What do you want, you imbeciles?" Malfoy snapped from what felt like another dimension. Their chatter was mushy and distorted.

"Watch your mouth when you're talking to us, you filthy traitor. Why are you even here, Malfoy?" Parvati spat it out like a curse word. "Don't you have rosy-cheeked children to dismember or whatever it is you do in your free time?"

Even through her panic, Ginny felt a strange flutter of anger.

Something unfamiliar yet the most natural feeling in the world.

Only she got to insult Malfoy like that, it said. No one else.

"Leave off him," Ginny mumbled in a daze.

Next to her, Hermione stilled. "Excuse me?"

"Don't talk to Draco like that." His name rolled deliciously off her tongue. It made her surroundings turn sharper, her head thrum less intensely.

"So, he's Draco now, is he?"

"Leave him alone."

"I can fight my own battles, Weasley," Malfoy said, but there was a gentleness in the way he looked at her.

"This is rich." Hermione stood at the front of the pack, arms folded over her chest and hair cascading down her shoulders. Murder twisted her features. "This is just rich. I turn my head for one second, Ginny. I look away for just one moment, I focus my attention on something other than you for one blooming moment and as soon as I turn around, you're replacing your friends with this - this -"

"This what?" Malfoy inquired pleasantly.

"This bastard!"

Ginny wasn't aware of when she sprang to her feet, but she stared Hermione down with a surety that surprised even her.

"Leave him out of it."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "I cannot believe you right now, Ginny. Who are you? Do you have any idea what this Death Eater has done? Do you have any idea how many murders and tortures he's been involved in? Or how many times he's called me Mudblood? Or how he's treated Ron and Harry -"

"You don't know anything about him," Ginny hissed. Her balled fists trembled.

"Ginny! Are you out of your mind? Has he Confuded you? Are you under the Imperius curse? Are you okay?"

"She's far better than she'll ever be around the likes of you," Malfoy said. Seamus hollered in outrage and it took both Dean and Neville to wrestle him away from the calmly seated blond.

"Did you come here to insult me or do you have something intelligent to say?"

Hermione's posse had gone silent, but everything about the way their mouths twisted and chests heaved screamed fury. They had obviously planned it - walk into the library where Malfoy and Ginny are least expecting it, intimidate through numbers, and only let Hermione do the talking. Once upon a time, Ginny would've been thrilled to be a part of that. Serving Malfoy what he deserved. Giving the victims a proper Gryffindor earful.

But the angry flutter had traveled to her abdomen, and she worried that if they insulted Malfoy one more time, he'd be the one restraining her.

"You're a ghost, Ginny. Ever since the Battle, you've been a ghost, and I'm sick and tired of you walking through your best friends like we're walls or something."

"How poetic. Are you taking Divination this year?"

"Listen to me!"

"Maybe if you stop being a banshee my hearing will come back so I can listen."

"Ginny. The way you've been avoiding us is disgusting. Even when you have lunch with Neville and Luna they say you're in your own little world."

Ginny's heart sank. Her two friends refused to meet her eyes.

"I'm here for you. They're here for you. Parvati and Seamus and Dean are here for you. But all of a sudden, we're not good enough for Miss Weasley anymore, are we? No, Miss Weasley has made that very clear. I expected a weird phase after Harry, don't get me wrong. But a serial sadist? Really, Ginny?"

Ginny didn't have time to retaliate. Hermione was on a roll.

"Maybe we were never good enough for you. Oh, yes, that must be it. Because we were your way in to Harry, weren't we? We were your way in to getting him for yourself." Hermione's mouth twisted. "Riddle me this. Did you ever really care about us or was it all pretend so you could snog my best friend behind my back?"

Tears spurted down Ginny's cheeks. Hiccups assaulted her throat.

"Hermione -"

"No!" The girl's own eyes were wet. "No, Ginny! I don't understand! Why is your revenge on whatever crime we committed this? Him?"

She waved a bent finger in Malfoy's direction. Ginny couldn't see him through the blur of tears.

"Is this because of Fred?" Hermione choked on the last syllable. "Is this because I fell in love with your brother?" Her hesitation was splintering. "The wrong brother?"

Ginny was sobbing openly now. A pair of warm arms sheltered her but she felt crushed on all sides. Drowning in rubble.

It's not you. It's us -

Cold little Colin -

The wrong brother -

You never lost your kindness -

You're a ghost, Ginny -

bloodtraitorfilthybloodtraitorit'salltruealltruealltruealltrue-

Her friends were now muttering with concern but Ginny heard nothing. She couldn't see the regret etched onto Hermione's features when her breath tightened and her fingers clenched the front of Malfoy's robes. The only thing she felt was the slow numbing of her legs and the incessant caving of her chest like a screw twisting at a nail.

"Get out. All of you," Malfoy must have said from somewhere. "I hope you're proud of yourselves. You did exactly what you came here to do."

Ginny made a keening noise and collapsed. Sure, warm hands held her waist. Her vision swam with black dots.

"Breathe, Ginny. Breathe."

The next few minutes were a swarm of wheezes, quiet whispers of comfort and the shameful exit of the Gryffindors and Luna as Ginny fell apart in Malfoy's arms.

"I'm sorry," he seemed to keep saying. "I'm sorry."

When she could breathe again and was nursing a glass of spiced pumpkin juice in the hospital wing, she touched his clenched hand with the tips of her fingers.

"It's okay."

His knuckles whitened.

xxx

Ginny had been right. She should've cancelled the quidditch match.

Out of sympathy.

A whoop tore from her lungs as she scored her next goal of the game, tossing the ruby quaffle into the sky and smacking it through the hoops with the butt of her broom. The Slytherin keeper dived for a save but the ball soared past his fingertips. Ginny fisted the air and bellowed the chant along with the red and gold painted crowd:

"WEASEY IS OUR QUEEN."

The miserable dregs of the Slytherin team gathered in formation at the opposite end of the pitch. Ginny high-fived her teammates, heart soaring in her ribs. They were only twenty-five minutes in and Ginny had already gotten sixteen points under her belt. The atmosphere sizzled with excitement. Every second that ticked past sank the Slytherins lower into despair.

All except Malfoy, though. While his housemates' shoulders sagged, his only grew more obstinate. He'd fouled Ginny twice already and had clearly ordered one of his chasers to knock Pond off her broom.

All Ginny's anger and frustration channeled into her flying. The more she thought about her friends in the library, the more goals she scored. Ignoring Malfoy had never given her more joy than it did when she feigned a snitch sighting and lobbed the quaffle through the hoops once again when he zoomed off, leaving the posts unguarded.

"WEASLEY IS OUR QUEEN. WEASLEY IS OUR QUEEN."

It felt surreal. The pulsating mass of Gryffindor flags and banners looked like a physical entity through her chaser goggles. She imagined McGonagall's prim smile. 'The best quidditch captain Hogwarts has ever seen.'

"Oi, Weasley! Catch!"

Wind ruffled Ginny's hair and she nosedived just in time before a bludger knocked her head clean off her shoulders. She somersaulted just for show and held out an offensive finger to a red-faced Malfoy clutching a beater bat.

"Show off!" Pond bayed at Ginny from a few feet up, her uniform dangling over the edge of her Nimbus 2000 like flames licking at firewood.

"Just queen things, Pond!"

Malfoy looked comical as he tried to glare a hole into Ginny's forehead and rake his surroundings for the snitch at the same time. "You're cheating. There's no way you're playing fair right now."

"Your fouls are calling you a fat hypocrite."

"Argh!" He slammed into her shoulder as he flew past and she shrieked with laughter, dodging another bludger by swivelling three hundred and sixty degrees around her broom. The crowd went ballistic.

'This is the life.'

Another fifteen minutes went by. The score was twenty-seven to three by the time Madam Hooch whistled for a water break. Ginny was high up in the clouds, relishing the feel of November sun on her pale skin and airborne humidity on the slick handle of her broom.

She did a loop the loop and made to streak down to join her teammates, but a sudden jolt almost threw her off her seat.

"What the bloody-"

Her broom bucked again and she clutched it desperately with both hands, surprise furrowing her brows. It skidded over the air, leaving her stomach behind. The wood began to shudder. Ginny's brain rattled in her skull. Her pulse quickened with fright. She was too high up for anyone to see her properly and Madam Hooch was whistling for her to come down.

She yanked her wand out of her robes and tried to cast a reverse incantation to whatever had possessed her broom but it lurched to the side, knocking her wand out of her hand and sending it plummeting into the abyss.

"What in Merlin's name-"

Her broom flipped her upside down. Blood rushed viciously to her head. Her vision blurred and she felt her sweaty fingers slip away one by one. With a panicked groan, she hoisted herself up onto her stomach.

The broom flicked her up and down, side to side, whizzing around in circles, trying to fling her like it was a branch of the whomping willow. Ginny was too shocked to open her mouth and scream for help.

The broom shaft suddenly splintered with a series of painful cracks. It began shedding twigs and dipping under Ginny's weight.

"Weasley?"

Bile threatened to spill from her open mouth. More and more splinters were being sloughed from her broom. She stuttered lower and lower. Malfoy's silhouette rocketed in her direction.

"WEASLEY!"

"Help," Ginny whimpered. The broomstick rolled for the last time.

Malfoy swooped beneath her as she finally lost her grip and hurtled downwards. His platinum blond curls were feral with wind as he reached for her midair.

Fingers circled Ginny's arm and she hooked a leg around the back of his broom but misjudged. There was a pop and a rush of pain that made her retch as her femur dislocated from her hip.

"Ginny!"

She gurgled, agony ripping her bones to shreds and stabbing at her hip like a knife. They landed on the grass in an ungraceful heap. Her broom was in pieces, littered about the pitch and still humming with energy.

"Ginny, stay with me."

Ginny moaned. Her hip hurt so much she thought it was impossible that there was a time before pain.

"Stay with me, Ginny!"

"You're the last person I want to stay with." Her eyelids were scrunched up and her neck was stiff with whiplash but she still managed to sneer at Malfoy.

"Glad to see your flattering manners weren't damaged by the fall."

"Get me to the hospital wing, you idiot! I'm dying!"

"You're not dying, Ginny."

"I am so dying. And don't call me Ginny."

"Wouldn't you want the last thing you hear before you die to be your name?"

"I- hunph."

Malfoy plucked her from the ground, carrying her bridal-style to a shrieking Professor Beckett and a death-pale Madam Hooch. The hard muscles of his chest pressed into Ginny's cheek and the smell of sweat and Malfoy filled her nose.

"Gerrof me," she groaned, trying not give in to her desperation to breathe him in deeper. "I can get there myself."

Malfoy balked. She felt his voice rumbling in his chest. "You're delirious."

His arms were strong and cool despite the sweat and dirt. Ginny wondered what his chest would feel like without his emerald robes sticking to it.

"I hate you," she whispered. She wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself.

"I know," Malfoy sighed. "I'm glad the feeling's mutual."

Beckett looked ready to burst into tears. "What happened up there?"

"Ungh," Ginny explained. She yelped when Malfoy let go of her. Beckett summoned a levitation charm. The absence of the shelter of Malfoy's arms left Ginny feeling strangely hollow.

"Don't die," he whispered into her ear, squeezing her arm.

He didn't join the float to the hospital wing.

xxx

a/n: ITS BEEN TOO LONG. sorry for how long it's taken. if you're reading, please drop a review! NEXT CHAPTER UP SOON. I PROMISE THERE'S A PLOT TO THIS STORY.