A/N: So, I have quite a lot written and in reserve, but I've been a little disappointed with the lack of feedback. Even just a "looks good" or "could've been better" will do. Reviews are my number one motivation for posting, honestly. (Plus, I'm a little stumped around chapter 33.) If you have anything to say, please say it! I'm breaking my self-imposed 'only post if you've written two or more chapters' to post this. And it's also sooner than I usually post. I was going to wait til Wednesday, but I got impatient. :P Enjoy!
Chapter 25: Adjusting Expectations
That night had been one of the most surreal experiences of Ginny's life. Never before had she thought it would be possible to even exist in the same room as Malfoy without them attacking each other, let alone get work done. But somehow she'd managed. It had been awkward, definitely, especially at first. But as she worked her way through the recipe, he hadn't made the comments she'd been unconsciously bracing for.
And odder still, he'd actually offered help.
She'd gone to add Valerian root to the potion, and he'd spoken up, before she had a chance to drop it in; "You'll want to wait another half a minute."
In a potion as exact as the Draught of Living Death, timing was paramount. Holding off could ruin the thing, if she wasn't careful. So could adding an ingredient too early. For some reason, she trusted him enough to hesitate, and stay her own hand. In the same moment she hesitated, she looked to the potion, counting the seconds in her head, immediately concerned that something terrible was going to happen because she'd trusted the snake.
Nothing happened.
She'd added the root in the requisite thirty seconds and the potion was complete, without issue.
And the whole time her head was screaming at her that something was way off. Malfoy wasn't a person who helped others. Malfoy wasn't a person who talked through conflicts. Malfoy wasn't concerned with the opinions of mere mortals. These were just the facts.
…So why was she feeling guilty?
She bottled the potion, well aware of how on edge she was. It was like her nerves were on high alert. Her head was racing, because this was not right. He shouldn't be being so… decent. Why was he being so decent?
"Good job, Weasley."
If a girl's mind could explode in a fraction of a second, the fraction after Ginny's mind processed his words would've shattered the potions classroom with the force of the explosion.
She just stared at him, barely managing to keep hold of the potion vial she was bringing to him. Her jaw dropped, leaving her mouth slightly agape as she tried to reconcile what she was hearing. If he had made the expected comment about looking like an idiot (which she surely did, the surprise so plain on her face) she may have recovered faster. As it was it took several seconds, and a questioning eyebrow from the blond, before she realized how she must look.
Her mouth snapped shut and she immediately averted her eyes, her face burning as she realized she'd just been gaping at someone for not being awful. She held out the vial, attempting to regain her composure. "Th- thanks, Malfoy."
While he didn't physically balk at the words, she could sense his surprise. Yet he was still looking at her. Staring at her, with an unwelcome intensity, and grimacing. She wasn't sure what else she could say. She felt her brows knitting, thoroughly confused. But she met his gaze. It was….
Well, honestly, it was incredibly awkward. All she wanted to do was look away from the… the… It was like he was mad, but not. Like he was questioning, but not. 'Intensity' was truly the only word she could use to describe it.
He looked away before she did, and she was distracted with her own thoughts as she maintained her focus. So distracted that his touch as he went for the potion vial made her jump. And the jumping was quickly followed by the unfortunate chiming and clinking of the glass vial shattering on the stone floor.
"Fuck," she muttered, looking to the vial with despair. She immediately leaned down to pick pieces from the floor, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks yet again. "Sorry, I wasn't-" When she glanced back up at him, he looked almost incredulous. Ginny realized: she'd probably never apologized to this particular Slytherin. And when she realized that, she immediately wanted to toughen up and stop her apologizing. But… he still hadn't said anything to her. And… he'd been being kinda…
His silence was so incredibly off-putting, it was making her act all weird.
She looked back down and continued cleaning up the vial. "I'll just- I'll just fill a new one," she mumbled the words as she cleaned up the spilled liquid.
She felt all sorts of twitchy.
And the blond wasn't looking too keen either.
Neither of them seemed able to comprehend a world in which a Malfoy and a Weasley actually got along. Not that this was 'getting along,' it was more… coexisting. Without conflict. The thought hit her as she was filling a new vial, and she very nearly lost her grip again. Merlin, Ginny, get a hold of yourself. It's not like you never… Well, alright, you've never seen Malfoy act like a decent person. Now stop gaping and get on with it, she chastised herself, as she stopped up the second vial, bringing it up to Malfoy and setting on the table to avoid any sort of slipping incident.
There was a pause just after she put it down. An almost unbearably awkward pause.
"This isn't right." The words were out of Ginny's mouth before she could stop them.
"No, it really isn't," he was agreeing with her, hurriedly. "Weasley, this is impossible."
She nodded, relief washing over her for some reason. "I was thinking the exact same thing – we can't do this."
"No, we can't."
Fervently, she asked, "Can we just go back to insulting each other?"
It was like she could see his walls come right back up, and he reached for that trademark smirk, "A glutton for punishment, Weaslette?"
She practically sighed. This, she was used to. This was expected. This was her comfort zone, and she could cope. Immediately, she felt herself relax into the routine. "Just keeping up the tradition." She was so relieved that they wouldn't need to get along that she failed to realize that that was precisely what they were currently doing.
Draco did, though. And he also realized this might be just what he needed. "Because you love traditional roles, don't you?" He snorted. Being fully nice to her, that wasn't going to happen. But this? This blunted jibing? He could manage that.
At the back of his mind, something else was stirring. Something warning him that he was getting in deeper than he would've been just being polite. This was a risk.
