You guys! Hi! I tried to get this out as soon as possible, because I knew you all were going to be quite upset with me for the split chapter, to say the least. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit. lol! In any case, these past 3 weeks have been insane, and I can only write bits and pieces at a time until I adjust to the new semester. As disgusted as I am, now that I'm settled in the new goal is weekly or biweekly!
THE APPLE OF MY EYE: CHP 4 ½
Some five minutes later…
I rapped on McGonagall's heavy oak door before pushing it open and stepping inside. The office was silent and slightly cold. It seemed to lose its sense of cheer without the groggy, yet still reassuring buzz of students. McGonagall was positioned behind her oversized desk, writing with a long gold and red feathered quill. If you asked me, that was going a little overboard with the House pride thing, but I wasn't up for pointing that out to her and landing myself another detention.
"Miss Weasley, I must say, I hardly expected you to show up so promptly." I hated when she did that; made snide comments that implied that one could never expect anything from Ginny Weasley. I could handle insults about my impoverished family, slams about my red hair, or stupid pranks that Malfoy and his friends may throw my way at various embarrassing stages of my life, but something about statements like that one made me furious. She might as well have just told me that I was a waste of oxygen, I mean really.
Despite my previously cautious nature, my mouth automatically opened to defend my pride. It does that quite often. Not one of my most...diplomatic habits, but one of the hardest to break.
"What can I say, Professor? I guess I just couldn't wait to spend time with Malfoy." The sarcasm was nearly impossible to miss, as I had intended, and I quickly plastered the lopsided grin I had picked up from Harry onto my face to cover my tracks. Sure enough, her eyes snapped up from her writing like lightening, scanning my face for proof that I had meant that in an insincere manner at best. I didn't falter, and she gave up, narrowed eyes jetting to behind me.
My anger depleted at the knowledge that I still had my wit. Satan knows what I'd do if I lost that. It was probably my favorite thing about myself.
After a moment of self satisfaction, (Hey, cut me some slack! Those are harder and harder to come by as you get older, you know?) I realized that staring behind someone isn't really normal. As soon as that thought entered my head, it was like my senses became hyper aware of everything going on around me. You know the feeling you get when someone is staring at you, or how you can at least sense another's presence?
Multiply that feeling by 594,302,457,439 and you'd be about halfway to the intensity that came smashing down on me. My spine nearly arched on its own accord, and I had to physically restrain myself from giving in. Taking a breath in attempt to steady myself and using the few seconds to wonder what the hell my problem was, I jerked around, anxious to rid myself of the feeling and partly cognizant of the sloshing in my stomach hinting as to what was going on. Whoever said ignorance is bliss had never felt like this, let me tell you.
I should have known it was him. I mean, quite honestly, what else could have possibly elicited that reaction from me? Still, it was rather weird that my body recognized he was in the room before my mind did. As usual, I didn't dwell on why that was. It wasn't something I was accustomed to, especially around him.
His white blonde hair fell forward to touch one arched eyebrow, and his lips were twisted into half of that infuriating smirk he always wore. I couldn't quite tell what it was supposed to mean, seeing as he used the expression to represent nearly every bloody emotion (with the exception of anger, in which case it was replaced with a snarl) he ever felt. His eyes however, were fixed on me, unwavering.
The grin I had been wearing vanished under his gaze, and to my utter horror, I was no longer able to suppress the strange sensations running up and down my spine. The energy was released in a violent shudder. I swallowed, slightly repulsed by my lack of self control. So much for that satisfactory moment I had enjoyed only seconds earlier, yeah?
I braced myself for an uncomfortable comment, and rightly so.
"Well then Miss Weasley, it appears you've gotten your wish," McGonagall quipped, her facial expression showing either evident amusement or annoyance. With McGonagall, you never could tell. I glanced in her direction, glad to have at least some reason to tear my gaze from Malfoy, even if it was to stare into her daunting face. I bit my lip. Hell, I almost drew blood I was clamped on to the thing so hard. But alas, my mouth opened itself again.
"Somewhat…" I breathed. My tone wasn't sarcastic this time, but soft and almost a bit bitter. For a moment I wondered if it had even been audible. McGonagall didn't seem to notice, as she immediately made to move her paperwork into a magically sealed drawer in her desk, and I didn't dare have the nerve or stupidity to look at Draco.
Strangely enough, I don't even know why that slipped out of my mouth in the first place. Somewhat; what kind of response was that? I squashed that thought quite hurriedly, fearful of that ridiculously pathetic romantic portion of my brain that seemed to fight for control at random points in time. Even more strange was my horribly sad attempt to insert the word random in that sentence. I didn't even fool myself with that one, and when that happens, you know everyone else won't buy it either. Random my arse. I knew exactly when my control wavered, and I didn't like it one bit.
After thanking life in general for the inability of others to hear my thoughts, I released a small puff of air, the tension in my chest easing only just.
Feeling more nutters than I had in my entire life, I stared with alarming fortitude at the cherry wood of McGonagall's desk. I half expected it to crack or something; Satan knows I was concentrating hard enough.
"I suppose we might as well get right to it then, hmm?" Her voice suddenly mused. She looked on at us, or more accurately, me in particular, apparently awaiting an answer. I closed my eyes for a moment to refrain from rolling them. As if we had a choice in the matter.
"Precisely," his voice added behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him step forward, positioning himself a bit closer as he spoke. McGonagall nodded curtly.
"I'll have you two know," she began, signaling the classic start of one of her usual rounds of chastisement, "that after this day I will show absolutely no amount of leniency whatsoever for any foolish and utterly juvenile outbursts that may occur, and any such instances will result in my immediate consultation with the Headmaster. Am I quite clear?" She raised her eyebrows, in that critical manner of hers.
There was a general mumbling of 'yes ma'am', and 'of course professor', before she continued.
"I'm sure you are cognizant of the snowfall as of last night?" she paused momentarily, probably for effect, but it felt a bit more like salt in the wound to me. I don't think she could have dangled it more blatantly in front of my face if she tried.
"Of course…" I replied, albeit a tad morosely. Thinking about what I wanted to be doing during detention wasn't exactly the best method of making the time progress faster. I snuck a glimpse at Malfoy. No, that was definitely not a good thing to think about, especially during this detention.
"Well, it appears that several of the residents and business folk at Hogsmeade have acquired a problem, in relation. Many of them are snowed in, and unfortunately the streets are a disaster, nearly not navigable. If we want the students to be able to proceed with the next visit, they will most certainly have to be cleared."
I perked up at this, and if I wasn't mistaken, heard a soft grunt from my cohort. That wasn't too unbelievable. I mean, honestly, can you imagine Malfoy liking snow? I grinned stupidly at the thought of little Malfoy getting pelted in the face with a snowball.
"What are we going to be doing then, Professor?" I asked, growing tired of her procrastination.
"You and Mr. Malfoy will be removing the snow from the premises. That is to say, 'shoveling', I believe muggles call it?"
"Shovel-hing? What in blazes is that?" Draco demanded, voice rising and lip curling. I openly turned to face him, taking in his furrowed brow and generally confused body language. All of 4 seconds passed before an expression of absolute glee immediately took residence on my face upon two realizations.
The first was that not only would I be outside for the next several hours, but I would quite literally be tromping through the very snowflakes I had been eyeing, essentially escaping the boredoms of standardized detention. The second, and perhaps the more amusing in the sense that it was a complete guilty pleasure, was the thought of Draco participating in any form of manual labor. The cherry on top of this inexplicably sweet sundae was that this activity was completely and totally muggle related.
My joy growing too immense to control, I decided to interject some helpful advice into the conversation in order to enlighten he whose hair glows in the dark.
"Not shovel-hing, Malfoy, shoveling. I take it you've never seen a shovel, then?"
"No, I haven't, though I know you have," he shot back. I knew Malfoy well enough to know that he would have added more to that remark had a teacher not been present. Instead of growing angry at his implication, I smiled slightly.
"Absolutely. I grew up normal, you see. You know, played in the snow, that whole bit." A throat was cleared not so discreetly.
"Regardless of whether or not you are familiar with concept, you will both be shoveling," McGonagall cut in, her mouth drawn in a firm line. She rose from her seat, and moved around to the front of the desk, drawing her wand.
"These, Mr. Malfoy," she flicked her wand and two old spindly chairs began transfiguring, "are shovels." Two metallic scoops appeared at the end of the now smooth wooden handles.
"We…we're scooping the snow off then?" Draco swallowed, and I got the distinct impression that he was refraining from making a disgusting comment about physical labor. Well, it was either that or he was coming precariously close to passing out.
"That is the general idea. As I mentioned before, nearly the entire village is blanketed. Work your way there via the path, and then proceed to administer as much service to the residents as possible," McGonagall prompted. I glanced to Malfoy again. He was stone like.
Never being one to let an awkward moment pass, I decided to lend the guy a hand. It was only fair. He had helped me yesterday, even if it had been a fluke.
"Looks like we'll get to it then, Professor," I said happily, grabbing one of the shovels hovering in front of me. "I'm going to run up and grab some warmer clothes and the like. Malfoy, meet you in the entry way?" I raised my eyebrows at him and saluted McGonagall before slinging the shovel over my shoulder and striding out the door.
I whistled jovially as I strutted down the hallway. I don't really believe in luck, but there wasn't really any other word I could think of to describe the situation. Sure it wasn't like I was going sledding, but sledding didn't come with a tall blonde attached, did it?
END 4.5 : What'd you think? I apologize profusely for the horrid long wait. I'd appreciate reviews, and hope to post again in a week or two!