Ginny felt the pre-match gitters hit her the moment she sat up that morning after a particularly nasty nightmare. She looked around the darkened dorm room, disintersetedly. Maria's loud snores tore through the tranquility of the room and Annabelle turned over in her sleep. Once she tuned out those not so minor distractions, the room settled into darkness and Ginny felt a sudden pang in her chest. Oh how she missed Hermione's quiet company. Hermione would always comfort her when she needed comfort, scold her when she was being weak or childish, or listen when she just needed someone to hear her.
Ginny rose, walking to her wardrobe and taking out her quidditch robes. Tom wanted them down at the pitch at six. It was ridiculously early, but she knew an order when she heard one and didn't plan on disobeying this one. There were much better ways of defying the young dark lord, ways that would be really worth it. Tom took everything seriously, even something he seemed to find to be so below him like quidditch.
With a tired yawn, Ginny dressed in a pair of long black pants and black shirt. She then picked up her Slytherin-green jumper, first running her fingers over the two silver stripes around the right side of the collar and then her name, Wesley, standing broadly on the back in glimmering silver the number seven glittering below it, Harry's number, the number of power. It would be covered and a matching name and number would don the back of her quidditch robes.
She pulled on the leather armbands Dolohov had supplied her with. He'd grunted something about gift, and you're welcome, but he'd left before she could properly thank him for them. That was Dolohov though. He was always embarrassed to show his connections to people, especially to her really. The familiar strap across her palm reminded her of her fourth year when she'd stepped in at seeker due to Harry's ban from quidditch. With Dolohov and Septimus' help, she had improved dramatically since she'd taken her "first broom ride". She'd never be as great as Harry but she was quite good.
When Ginny got down to the common room broom in hand and robes slung over her shoulder, she found Dolohov standing there waiting for her, looking rather patient which surprised her mildly. He nodded to her, guiding her along with him a hand on her upper back, just below her neck. They headed down to the great hall in silence and sat at the near end of the Slytherin table, a small assortment of food laid out before them. She and Dolohov were the only ones there so they sat to eat side-by-side, setting their brooms on Dolohov's other side, to keep them out of the way. Ginny left her robes over her shoulder, not finding them in her way.
Dolohov heaped food onto his plate while Ginny placed a small serving of fruit salad on her own. She cradled her head in her hands, feeling an enormous morning headache coming over her. Dolohov silently placed two pieces of toast on her plate and a small slice of ham. She didn't object. He was right after all. She'd need her strength and a few bites of fruit wasn't going to be enough to sustain her through a game of quidditch.
Their quiet eating was punctuated only by a few quiet yawns by Ginny and Dolohov's silverware scraping on his plate every once in a while as he hate. Ginny found herself a bit surprised when they were interrupted by a soft voice. She jumped a bit, turning her head slightly. She'd been staring at Dolohov's plate blankly as he cut up a sausage. They'd sat facing away from the door, so of course she hadn't seen Septimus walk in, or heard him due to his innate stealthiness.
"Here," Septimus muttered, voice rough with tiredness. "I thought you would need this," he told her. She looked down at the hand held in front of her, immensely relieved to see that it was a headache tonic. She nodded and he walked around the table, sitting down across from Dolohov.
Trevor and Dane, the two other new members of the team, walked in next, looking quite pale as they anticipated their first ever quidditch match. Their nervousness was apparent when they jumped at the door closing behind them. Davis had followed them in and closed it behind himself, a grim look on his face as he walked behind them to the table, sitting beside Ginny while the others went to sit beside Septimus. Davis nodded to Dolohov first, then Septimus and finally Ginny, receiving a nod in return each time.
After all three were seated and had served themselves, Ginny felt a small frown dawn on her face. Where was Tom? Then her frown deepened... she didn't need to know right now. Not even she expected herself to know his whereabouts every moment of the day. He wasn't likely to be setting the basilisk on muggleborns at five-thirty in the morning. Still, somehow it nagged at her that she didn't know where he was, if the school was safe, or... somehow this was more important than the school?... to her suddenly... if he was safe.
"He won't be coming down for breakfast," a knowing voice said. Her eyes snapped to Dolohov, her brow furrowing. He chewed something thoroughly as he stared straight past Septimus at a spot on the wall, not really focusing.
"How did you...?" Ginny murmured, in confusion.
"You always get that look when you think about him and you chew your lip when you're worried about him," Dolohov told her, glancing at her then turning his attention down to his food. Ginny's face flamed with embarrassment and she glanced at Septimus who had hurt reflecting in his ever-expressive eyes, but the rest of his expression, the very way he held himself confirmed what Dolohov had said to her. She looked down at her plate, one half-eaten piece of toast left there.
Gin stood and Dolohov stood with her, picking up their brooms and handing hers to her. She took it gratefully. "Thank you very much Antonin, but you don't need to go with me," she said softly.
"Not even Hufflepuff is above taking out another team's seeker before a match, especially if she's the only girl Hogwarts has let play in over thirty years," Davis said, flatly. Shock hit Ginny and then understanding and comprehension quickly followed. She hadn't really thought about that. She was the only female player at Hogwarts. They'd definitely be going after her.
"Thank you then for staying with me, Antonin," she murmured, knowing he was looking out for her. She pushed down the side of her that screamed that she didn't need protection. She followed him from the great hall wordlessly, gripping her broom tightly in her small fist. She stopped in the entrance hall to pull on her cloak and Dolohov waited for her to have it over her shoulders before they headed out across the grounds towards the quidditch pitch.
The more time she spent with Dolohov, the more she saw that he was much more than he first appeared. She hardly thought that he would have laid a finger on her that day in the alley. He was above such cheap attacks, she was sure. It was much more likely that Tom had ordered him to confront her, to test her mettle. No doubt, Tom had seen that she was more than a scared little girl.
Ginny had been thinking about it over the past month or so and the more she thought about it the more she was convinced that she'd been accurate in her suspicions when she stayed in diagon alley. She had run into Tom that first week a few more times than she was comfortable calling coincidence. No, she was sure that he had been lurking, been watching. Now that was something in character. Tom was someone who would definitely observe his prey before striking, even if in her case she was not prey but a potential ally.
Obviously to determine is she was worthy, if she was acceptable to him, he'd had to watch her for a while. She'd felt like she'd been taken in since that carriage ride with the three of them. She hadn't realized that his acceptance of her might have come before that or even after. She really couldn't pinpoint the moment that Tom had really let her in, which was to be expected. Tom really was the master here and she was just a pawn in his little game. Well, perhaps she was more of a bishop. She smirked at that. She the bishop, Dolohov the rook, and Septimus the knight. It all settled well in her mind.
She and Dolohov entered the locker room, Ginny thanking him softly when he held the door for her. Ginny's face turned beat red when she was met with the sight of Tom's bare torso. "Sorry!" she squeaked out, turning her back immediately to face Dolohov, who remained expressionless.
"Don't worry about it Gin," Tom said quietly a few feet behind her. She'd had six older brothers, damn it. She'd seen plenty of male chests in her life. She and Harry had gotten close once, but they'd... they'd never... Her face burned and she knew she was red from her cheeks to her ears.
Ginny flinched when she felt a gentle hand settle on her shoulder, but she relaxed herself and turned to look up at him. He wore his green jumper and looked ridiculously handsome as always. He led her out into the outdoor corridor carefully. Dolohov still had to change into his quidditch gear. Ginny was only in hers because there was nowhere for girls to change privately at the pitch. They walked about halfway down the walkway before Tom slowed and turned her to face him. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders, bending over slightly so they were eye level.
"Are you ready?" he asked her, his tone very serious. She nodded, meeting his dark brown eyes steadily. He stared at her searchingly for a long moment, before nodding. He straightened, keeping his grip on her shoulders. She tilted her chin up to allow her to hold his gaze still. The other guys passed them, none glancing at the two of them as they passed by. Ginny didn't break her eye-contact with Tom though to try and find out why they hadn't looked. She knew Tom wasn't finished speaking to her and his pale face bore some expression I could not comprehend..
"Okay. Remember, the Hufflepuff beaters pull a good swing play. Double at their own seeker any chance you can get, otherwise you'll be left wide. They WILL go after you Gin. Do you understand me?" he asked, his grip on her shoulders tightening a bit. "I don't think their captain will go for you himself, respects me too much for that, but the rest of them will have a plan."
"Tom, I will be fine," she promised, annunciating each word as she lifted her right hand to cover one of his hands, gripping it tightly. "I'll get you your snitch. I promise." He nodded, a reassuring certainty in his eyes. He knew she knew what she was doing. He reminded her of the twins in that way. Charlie and Bill had always hovered over her, Ron as well, and Percy always thought of her as just a little girl that needed to be protected. The twins, though, they knew her strength and had faith in her to do what she believed what was right and hold her own while doing it. This coming from Tom made some kind of warmth grow within her.
"Come on," he muttered, releasing her shoulders, the faith he had in her abilities transferred to her own certainty. She realized that this was one of those things that drew her to him the most. He knew when someone was ready. He knew how to read her in ways that were almost unfair. It was like he knew better than she could comprehend herself.
He walked down towards the locker room, her following behind him closely. He opened the door and looked in. "Andrews! Reigni! Get your shirts on!" Tom ordered sharply. The smile on Tom's face told her that they had tried to comply quickly, very quickly by the sound of those soft curses and the stumbling around.
Tom stepped back after a moment and held the door. Ginny walked in, ducking her head under his arm as she went. She held her head high, going and taking a seat beside Septimus who took her hand, giving it a small squeeze and then giving her an uncertain, worried smile. This grated on her somehow. She didn't know where this sudden anger came from but she assumed it had something to do with what she had just realized about herself... about Tom.
"Any ideas?" Tom asked from up by the blackboard. They'd gone over their strategy again and again and a few plays were written up on the board. Tom crossed his arms, confidently. "Hufflepuff's strategy?"
"Force Gin out of the air. They'll want to make you seek and leave us one short on the chase," Davis said, eyes cold and hardened as if this were a battle he was prepared for. Ginny had been in battles. Ginny knew much more about that than him. He turned that merciless gaze on Ginny, whose eyes narrowed in response. She didn't much like Davis. He sent more bludgers at her than Dolohov and had had a few choice comments to Septimus and Dolohov when he'd found out she'd been given the seeker position. She was quite aware he didn't like the idea of a girl on the team. He had made that obvious more than once in front of her and when he didn't think she was listening.
"Don't delude yourself into thinking that that they won't knock you off of your broom, Gin," he told her. She opened her mouth to respond to that none-too-kindly, but he wasn't finished. As he cut her off before she'd begun she felt a low burning start in the pit of her stomach, beyond any anger she have ever felt before. "I know I'm not an objective voice here, but I'm only being honest. You're a good seeker. I'll give you that, but if they have to pull off their keeper and a couple chasers to get it done, they will take you out." The fire flared into liquid magma, spreading out from her chest, searing her blood vessels as it went.
"He's right Gin," Septimus muttered, gripping her hand in what he must have thought to be a reassuring gesture. She jerked her hand away from him sharply, fire raging within her, but she thought she had control on it for the moment. This fire wasn't Ginny's, but it wasn't Gin's either and she didn't trust herself to go on the instincts of this new being within her trying to claw out. She didn't know whether this feeling, this painful fire was on her side or her side. The insanity of it, the craziness of her thoughts, drowned out what must have been Septimus' quick explanation or apology, depending on how much he meant what he'd said. He tried to touch her again and the flames rose to her brain, switching her from her stupor, causing her to growl at him, truly growl.
"Don't touch me," she hissed, as she jumped up and strode away from him turning sharply, to face the group as a whole. "Is Tom the only one who has any faith in me. I'm a girl, yes, but I'm also a witch and I've been through enough to know that I can take care of myself! Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean that they are better than me," she snapped, her ears roaring.
"Gin, we're only saying that you-"
"I know what you're saying Septimus! I am not deaf. I heard every word you said and every word he has said, today and before. Tom chose me! He chose me because I am good. Now, I am telling you that I will not leave my broom until it's over. Do you get what I am saying?" she demanded. Septimus just stared at her. "Antonin!" she said sharply, her burning eyes never leaving Septimus' face. "Do you have my back?" she asked.
"Until it's over," Dolohov said seriously, using her own words. The pain in Septimus' eyes as her own eyes hardened, wedging a thick slab of cement between them. Ginny walked to Dolohov, seating herself at his side and keeping her eyes pointedly from Septimus. Dane and Travis looked among the veterans of the group, and at Ginny, unable to think, let alone speak on the serious break in the teamwork that had held thus far through all their training. Ginny could feel their gazes. After a few moments, she raised her eyes to Tom once more and he looked incredibly unhappy and the look he sent Septimus could be classified as threatening.
"We have a couple of hours for the rest of you to realize that there's a quidditch match today. You will concentrate on your position and do your job or you will regret it," Tom said, eyes pausing for the longest on Davis, who looked away under the ferocity of their captain and the unspoken leader of Slytherin.
Tom walked to Ginny, sitting beside her and pulling on a set of armbands that matched her own. His handsome features were set with intense determination though it was fringed by a not-so-thin layer of anger. Ginny drew a few deep breaths, tearing her eyes away from this man who felt more like and unlike a stranger than anyone she'd ever met. She found she had ceased breathing for a few moments and drew a few long, deep breaths before turning and staring at the locker directly in front of her, zoning in, concentrating. She let her shoulders relax and felt the knot in her stomach loosening.
"Leave it Prince," Tom said coolly. The knot in her stomach tightened immediately. Tom really was angry... angry because Septimus had treated her badly, Septimus had hurt her, and Septimus had showed a lack of faith in Tom's trust in her ability. She didn't look up to meet Septimus' eyes, but saw Tom look up out of the corner of her eye. A few moments and quite likely one terrifyingly intense look from Tom and Septimus headed back to the other side of the room.
"Thank you," Ginny whispered, tone so soft that not even Dolohov would have been able to hear it from her other side. Tom nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Game time soon came upon them and Tom led the way. Davis and Dolohov walked directly behind him followed by Ginny and Septimus. Trevor and Dane took up the rear. Ginny flatly refused to even acknowledge that Septimus was beside her though he kept sending her looks.
"Good luck Gin. You'll be brilliant, really!" Trevor whispered. She turned to see him stepping back into his position. Both Dane and Trevor were giving her slightly nauseated smiles. They were definitely nervous, but they'd do fine. She knew they would. She gave them both grateful smiles before turning to face forward again.
The door suddenly opened before them. She mounted her broom, taking off beside Septimus. They flew out and around the pitch; Tom at the lead, flying along the stands, drawing boos from two of the groups. They reached the Slytherins and performed a grand upwards circle drawing a loud cheer before zooming to their places in the center.
Ginny hovered above the ground a few feet and brought herself to a state of calm, taking full control over her breathing and letting her muscles relax for now, ready to go the moment that whistle blew. She would show them what happened when you went gunning for a gunner. She smirked confidently, meeting the other teams seeker with a dead on stare. He was a small, weasel-like boy that reminded her strongly of Draco Malfoy, though she knew any Malfoys of this time would have been in Slytherin. That family had had no Hufflepuffs in their family for centuries. She looked to Tom, who nodded to her, then Dolohov who gave her an incredibly rare smile that came out more like a sneer really. Quidditch always got him in a good mood even though he was usually so sullen and grouchy. "You're a Slytherin... Anything goes," Dolohov's words echoed in her mind. He'd told her that the day before and she'd remember it well if it came down to it.
The whistle was blown and instead of flying straight up, Ginny went straight towards the other team, a very risky move. She slammed into the other team's seeker, just as he pulled up. That sent him into a nasty spin, and he went flying out of control. An approving roar went up from the Slytherin side and an angry shout came from a beater. He came at her fast. She dipped artfully to avoid it, pulling hard right and then zooming upwards, winking at Dolohov as she went, not missing a beat.
Ginny blocked out the female announcer's voice, letting the game take her full focus as she shot to a high point over the pitch, out of the way of the chasers and beaters. She watched as Tom glided through the air, throwing the quaffle off to Trevor who caught it, swooped down, pushed forward, then threw the ball up, straight into Dane's hands. A bludger went sailing from Dolohov at the perfect moment, causing the Hufflepuff Keeper to veer to avoid it while Dane powered the quaffle through the middle post. She smirked. Their chasers would dominate for certain. She glanced to the goal each time they scored, the only break in her search for that tell-tale gold twinkling.
"Gin, behind!" Trevor's voice carried to her out of nowhere. She pulled up in a tight spin, narrowly avoiding the Hufflepuff seeker, but not missing him as she followed through, her foot connecting with the back of the neck, sending him reeling towards the action below. Another loud, exuberant cry rose from the Slytherins, louder than any of the goals had drawn.
Ginny payed little attention to where he ended up, hoping that Dolohov pounded a bludger down his throat. She searched the skies, intently, making certain once he was back on her level that she was aware of the position of the other teams' seeker a safe distance down the pitch. As the game drew on though and the Hufflepuffs saw that their only chance to win would be to catch the snitch, she saw their tactics change becoming very un-Hufflepuff. There was a nod from one of the chasers and from that point onward, every movement by the other team was quite different, much more aggressive.
Not having thought too much of the change that she had registered somewhere deep in her mind, she was still keenly aware of the two beaters when they were converging just below her. She could see a play when it was coming together. She spun around to head towards Dolohov, only to find her way blocked by two chasers, inconspicuously of course. Only the players closest would notice the formation as players slowed their game rather than stopping it. They had all come together at the same time. The Slytherin team had hardly had a chance to react. Suddenly, she noticed that the seeker was also upon her, or above her really. A beater had moved from below to her other side and was coming in fast. She shot out from it only to have one of the beaters turn and shove her hard. Her hands were knocked from her broom and her elbow was jerked painfully.
Her broom flew out of control and she went from it, but she threw out a hand, determined. She had made a promise this morning and she intended to keep it. Her hand caught onto the broom and she closed it hard, gripping with her all. She swung, trying to get the momentum to get back onto it. She saw three Hufflepuffs flying for her and a small panic gripped her along with an intense burning anger. How dare they go after someone who was barely hanging on to their broom! It was underhanded. Cedric Diggory would turn over in his bloody grave if he saw this. It was even beyond most Slytherins, certainly beyond anything her own team would do.
She closed her eyes tightly as they closed in, but two bludgers went flying past her, missing by mere inches. They both found a mark, taking out one of the Hufflepuff's each. Then a green blur swooped in front of her, a fist colliding with a chaser's jaw. There was a sickening crunch followed by a spray of blood as the chaser went flying from his broom. "Riddle," she read from his jersey softly.
"Three penalties called against Hufflepuff!" the announcer was yelling. I was suddenly out of my quidditch playing mode as the words of the announcer broke through my zone. "Everyone and their grandmother saw that blatant aggression against Slytherin seeker Gin Wesley! Riddle isn't given a penalty for that right hook. Meyes is down on the pitch, looks unconscious from where I'm standing!"
"Get back up there," Tom told her, sharply. Dane swooped past. She saw that he had the quaffle. Ginny nodded, swinging hard and pulling herself up onto her broom, shooting for her high point once more as Tom flew towards the goal, tossing the quaffle off to Trevor.
"Anything else?" she called to the other seeker, patronizing him.
"You don't belong here, Wesley!" he shouted at her. "This isn't a place for bloody girls," he said. "You'll get hurt and then we'll be blamed for it!"
"Hn... I don't belong here, do I?" Ginny muttered, a small smirk dawning on her face. She took off, whizzing past him. She headed straight for the Hufflepuff stands, eyes following that gold flicker closely, watching as it juked and jutted to try and get away. Suddenly it changed course completely and she flew up along the stands, realizing her mistake in positioning as she passed the group of Gryffindors, the other seeker slamming into her hard. Her shoulder hit the stands and gave a sickening crunch and she bounded off of the wall. She screamed in pain, her arm falling limp. She was blinded by the white-hot pain.
"You promised him that snitch, Ginny Weasley, so go and get it. Are you Gryffindor or not?" she growled to herself, through gritted teeth, taking a firmer grip with her left hand and shooting off after the seeker with a vengeance. She braced herself, coming between him and the wall once more but only for a split second as she rammed into him hard, crying out at the pain in her elbow. The other seeker flew off in a spin that he would likely not recover from this time. He was going down, she knew.
The snitch flew up once more and she did too, staying with it expertly. She came within reach, waited one more moment, closing to a bit safer distance before she let go of the broom, snatching the snitch from the air. A roar went up from her right. She caught her foot on the broom and kicked off hard, flying into the crowd with another shout of pain. She felt hands carefully help her to her feet, one touching her shoulder. She cried out at the pain, but stepped away from that person, keeping her worse arm tucked close, and lifting the snitch with her left hand, ignoring the throbbing of her elbow. A roar came from all around her. It was loud and hard to distinguish if her own house were cheering as well, but she knew instinctively that they were, knew that her housemates were proud, that Tom was proud. She recognized the blue ties that told her that she was in the Ravenclaw stands.
"That was brilliant!" "Wow!" "Merlin, look at her shoulder!" "How on earth did she pull that off?" "She's as good as Tom." The voices all seemed to melt together as she fell backwards, feeling cold. The pain was so intense. She couldn't focus, her vision blurring horribly, though there were still hands holding her up, supporting her, congratulating her. None of it seemed to make coherent sense until one large, warm hand was pressed to the side of her face and another settled on her waist supportively, the others falling away. The regal features she recognized so well were suddenly before her and he was speaking to her, smiling with pride. She stood unsteadily, but he didn't let her go. She felt herself steadying a bit.
"You do this yourself, Gin," his voice whispered in her ear. She handed him the snitch with a pain-filled smile, not even trying to see his response with her hazy vision. She took the broom he pressed tightly into her hand, gripping it tightly with her left hand, her elbow giving another sharp jolt, but she ignored it. It was nothing to the pain in her shoulder. She gripped the broom herself and mounted. He mounted one right beside her and she took off, unsteady and in pain, but on her own. She didn't need Tom to leave the field. That was the statement. She was her own, very strong person. It didn't matter what gender she was.
Tom followed slightly behind her, holding the snitch high above him as they passed the Slytherins, looping around and flying towards their locker room. Once they were under cover in the corridor, Ginny tried to land, but she wasn't exactly successfully. Her feet caught the ground, her broom went flying and she went to the ground, falling forward. Her forehead caught first, then her cheek followed by a spin before she rolled along the painful earth before settling on her side, and just laying there. She fell apart, crying at the pain and trying to keep her right arm close protectively with her other arm though the pain in her left wrist was suddenly too agonizing to keep that up. She began shaking terribly, pain from her wrist, elbow and shoulder all too much to bear. Shock of course settled immediately.
Ginny felt Tom pull her up into a sitting position and wrap his left arm around her tightly, gently pressing her head towards him. She breathed heavily into his shoulder, a slight hitch to each inhale. His powerfully calming, familiar scent slowly took away some of the tension, some of the tremors. What was that smell? It hit her like the first cool breath of morning while at the same time a heavy scent she could never describe in her own thoughts flowed over her. Her pulse raced as his strong hand gripped her upper arm. "Breathe," he muttered. "Breathe with my breaths," he told her. She opened her eyes a peek to look at his chest, trying to do as he told even as she felt her whole body anticipate what he was about to do to her.
Tom leaned his cheek against the right side of her head, whispering something before pain caught her so fully that her vision danced with it. A small scream of pain tore from her, muffled by the cloth of his quidditch robes as she pressed her face to his chest hard.
After a few moments, her body relaxed, sharp pains shooting from her shoulder again and again as she collapsed against Tom, breathing heavily, sweat beading down the side of her face, and dirt and blood from her rough landing scraped the right side badly. She was bleeding heavily from a gash on her forehead but still, he held her to him not caring about ruining his clothes. He simply gripped her tightly, allowing her time to regroup from the horrible pain centered mostly around her shoulder.
"Ready?" he asked after a few minutes, as her breathing slowed slightly. He adjusted her carefully so her head was rested against his chest, her uninjured shoulder against him. That also meant however that her injured elbow and deformed wrist were jostled. He took her hand and arm in his. She felt his piercing eyes claim hers and stared back into them, unable to tear her eyes away. She heard a sick snap and pain washed through her again, but it was kept to a sharp gasp. She felt the bones repair as she kept her head down, eyes closed, now focused on Tom's hands as they gripped her hand and arm still, waiting for any other indication of continued pain.
He held her tightly to him and set his feet beneath him, pulling them both up together. He held onto her for a few more moments before she nodded again, gaining her bearings. Her shoulder and elbow still hurt like hell and her face, though he healed it in just a softly spoken spell, was covered in her own blood. She was happy though, more than happy. She was elated.
She had caught the snitch. They had won by 290 points, completely devastating the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. Gryffindor/Slytherin was the big match, but that didn't matter right now, because they'd beaten Hufflepuff and she'd stayed on her broom until she had had that snitch in her hand. She'd kept her word.
Tom opened the door for her and Ginny stepped in with a small grin, left hand holding her right arm still so they realized she was still hurt. The team let out a hurrah and she was greeted immediately by Dane and Trevor, who of course avoided her arm, choosing the safe route by patting her on the back. "That was absolutely brilliant Gin!" Dane exclaimed. She smiled and thanked them both, softly.
Davis met her gaze, and nodded to her, apologetically, but she simply gave him a cocky grin before turning to Dolohov. She held her left hand out and he frowned, glancing at her right, then at Tom, before taking her hand in his own left and shaking it firmly.
The last one there was Septimus. The laughter died down as the two faced each other. He shifted uncomfortably then sighed. "I'm sorry I said what I said," he mumbled, as if it were some great chore. Ginny felt anger boil within her, the beginning of that fire that had consumed her before.
"I don't care what you said. I care what you thought. I wish you would have said what you thought about me from the beginning. It would have saved me a lot of wasted time with you," she growled. She stomped to her locker, unclasping her robes with her left hand and sliding them off with a bit of help from Dane. She tossed the robes in there, walking to the shower room. She pulled off her sweater, glad to see that she didn't need to ask Tom to follow her.
He had his wand in hand and the moment she had the jumper off followed by her t-shirt, he took her left forearm in his hand, looking at her elbow intently. The cold of the locker room seeped through her thin tank making her shiver. Tom waved his wand and the pain abated, but it still felt strangely unstable. She'd have to go to Pomfrey later. He used the same spell on her shoulder and the pain there instantly washed away, though it was again replaced with a full understanding that it was still unstable as her elbow. "Tom, why do you believe in me?" she asked, suddenly. He frowned, looking up at her with a confused look.
"Everyone treats me like I'm weak, like I can't handle things. You've seen me in some of my worst moments, my most pathetic moments really, but you don't treat me like..." she froze when she felt his finger to her lips, silencing her.
A very small smile lit his features. "It is because I've seen you when you're at your weakest... I know that you aren't weak, that you can handle it," he told her softly. He placed a hand on the side of her neck carefully, staring down at her injured shoulder. "You shouldn't have been able to stay up in the air after that. Both Davis and Septimus tried to go to catch you, but I made them stop, because you could do it... only you... by yourself."
"Thank you Tom," Ginny whispered, looking down. He held up her shirt which she pulled on awkwardly. He helped her pull it down, helping again with her sweater, his eyes not once looking her over. Once she had herself fully clothed again he turned his head to the side completely and stepped away from her, giving her a few feet.
"We will be in the common room. Dolohov will escort you to the Hospital Wing," he told her. She nodded in understanding. Slytherins went nowhere alone. She understood that now. Tom wasn't making Dolohov protect her, just making a statement. She was theirs. She was Tom's. She shivered again but this time it was not from the cold
Ginny stashed her broom in her locker, taking out a cloak she'd left there. The house elves checked the lockers after games and practices so she knew her robes would be taken care of. She headed back towards the castle with Dolohov, completely ignoring Septimus as he followed closely behind them.
Dolohov and Ginny entered the hospital wing and Madame Tronskey patched Ginny up fairly quickly, lecturing them on the dangers of quidditch and the risk involved in trying to set a dislocated shoulder by oneself. They both let the woman go on for a while, neither one of them really listening to the ancient healer.
Ginny's thoughts were on Tom. He was so different than she would have thought. She had known that he was more than his diary made him seem, but... he was such a layered person, difficult to relate to and even more difficult to understand. He, of all of them though, was the only one who saw her as a person rather than a meek woman, which was comforting. He didn't accept weakness and he told her upfront that he knew that she wasn't weak. She even thought she might... like him. He was human, had his faults and his strengths.
She wondered why things always had to happen upon her so quickly, like an epiphany every time. Why did she suddenly have to understand Tom? Why couldn't that be an acquired thing? Why did she have to realize in a few moments that Septimus was a different person than she wanted him to be, than she wanted to know. She'd been trying to force Septimus into a mold that just didn't fit. She was confused with herself. How could she miss so much of one person and see so much of another. Her new feelings were intense and hardly believable.
This new lack of faith in one young man and the abrupt onset of an intense trust in another turned her world upside down. She couldn't hate Septimus, knew she wouldn't if given time. Still though, she couldn't let herself hate Tom any longer. It was childish because she had only felt that hate at the idea of being forced to be near Tom, but now it made sense. She wasn't against Tom just afraid of being trapped. She had felt like a lion in a cage, tied down by Tom rather than drawn to him like she truly was.