Ginny flopped down on Malfoy's bed, not bothering to knock at the door. He sat where he always sat: in the chair, facing the window, regardless of the time of day. He didn't glance over, though Ginny assumed that he had heard her. She had made no efforts to be quiet.
"So what's the fascination with the window?" she asked, breaking the silence.
Malfoy's lips twitched into a tiny smile – gone before it was fully formed. "Never thought you'd ask. I'm watching the sky," he said, as though that explained everything. Ginny waited, expecting more answer to come. Malfoy glanced over at her. "What, you want more?"
"Is there more?"
He shrugged, gazed out the window. "Not really. I'm thinking about my life, wondering what I would have done differently." He fell silent.
"Well?" Ginny asked.
"Well, what?"
"Well, what would you have done differently?"
"You are far too curious for your own good, do you realise that?"
"Of course. Now tell me."
Malfoy glanced over again. "I could refuse to tell you, just to see the faces you pull," he suggested.
Ginny grimaced. "Not that interested," she replied.
"I don't know," he smirked, "that was a pretty good face."
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.
"Oh, juvenile. Lovely. Good to be reminded who I am speaking with: a Weasley." But there was a hint of humour around his words that kept her from taking offence.
"Tell me or don't tell me, I was curious but I'm not going to beg."
Malfoy shrugged. "My father told me, when I was little, that one day I would be one of the most important people in Britain's Wizarding community. And, yet, every few weeks, he would rage about how Harry Potter had destroyed some amazing plan of his to become even more powerful, richer. I grew up hating Harry Potter, did you know that?"
He looked over, and Ginny sensed that he wanted a response. "I grew up worshipping Harry Potter… Though, that got me a long way, didn't it."
"I wouldn't know, Weasley," he replied airily. "But I would have done a great deal to have had the publicity – the attention – that he had, for something he couldn't even remember. I spent a lot of my energy during my life on Harry Potter."
Ginny snorted. "Didn't we all?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Did we all?"
Ginny rolled onto her back and made an undignified noise. "The first time that I saw Harry Potter, he was wearing a baggy jumper and track pants, and his glasses were broken. And I thought I was in heaven. I obsessed about him for twelve whole months before I saw him again – and the next time I saw him, he was in my house and I put my elbow in the butter dish. Every ounce of teen angst was expended in his direction. Merlin, even when I was dating other people, I was thinking about Harry. And, when it was all over, he just walked away. He said, 'I'm just not ready, Ginny,' and walked away and never came back."
"Teen angst? Terrible." There was a shadow in Malfoy's expression that Ginny couldn't place. She sat up. He continued to stare out the window. "Ah, childhood. It really is a cruel fate, putting a thousand teenagers into a stone building and keeping them there for seven years. But I am glad that my mother argued to send me to the Hogwarts dungeon rather than the Durmstrang dungeon. Did you really go to see Pansy?"
Ginny blinked at the change of subject. "Yes," she replied. "She looked well… except for the bills she had piling up. Apparently her father put a clause in his will, keeping her from the money until she was married."
Malfoy laughed a little. "Of course he did. He was a man who expected to be obeyed. Pansy didn't show up at the final confrontation, her father would have punished her for that."
Ginny frowned, feeling unexpected sympathy for the woman. "Well, I've hooked her up with my brother. Soon enough…" She halted as Malfoy burst out laughing. It was surprising to hear genuine, loud, surprised laughter coming from the blond man. He continued laughing for a long while, and when he eventually quieted, Ginny asked why he had laughed.
The question elicited another chuckle from Malfoy. "Your brother is a mule. Do you know how he treated Hermione?"
"Hermione?" She repeated, "and yes, I do, thankyou."
"Yes, Hermione. A decent enough woman; though, believe me, I would not personally pursue her."
"Oh?" Ginny replied, her tone dangerous. "And why is that? Her blood not pure enough for you?"
Malfoy gave her an amused smile. "No, no, that doesn't bother me very much. It's more that I value my life: Severus is mixing this magic potion that keeps me alive, and I'd rather that it doesn't miraculously become poisonous."
Ginny felt heat rising in her cheeks. "Oh, ok. Why were you laughing, before?"
"It seemed the ultimate irony. If Pansy had both rings, she would have forced me into marrying her – though, I suppose, if I had known that it was her, I may have preferred death. And your brother… Well, let me say, if I thought it would help anything, I may actually spend some money to have him killed. But I believe your plan is much more devious, and will actually achieve more desirable outcomes."
Ginny frowned. "Pansy didn't seem too bad. And Ron's a good person… When he's not been drinking."
"Oh, Pansy may have mellowed a little. But she is opinionated, domineering, manipulative and will do anything to get her own way. And your brother is welcome to her."
"Pansy was happy to share your character flaws," Ginny threw back. "She characterised you as, and I quote, 'painfully opinionated, never admits he's wrong, hurts people rather than injuring his pride… Loves his money more than anything; except his life'."
Malfoy chuckled. "Ah, that's Pansy all right. I must admit that, at school, I used her quips as often as my own, and to great effect. Pansy was never any good under pressure: she didn't have the flair for presentation that I have."
"And accurate?"
"Oh, always. That's what makes it funny, you know. Humour. When faced with the bald truth, we react one of two ways: with aggression or with laughter. The difference is in the delivery, and reading your audience." Ginny sat back and stared at Malfoy, who had now turned to face her in his chair.
"You're not disputing what she said about you?"
"No, why would I? Not everyone is in complete denial about their negative aspects," he jibed.
Ginny narrowed her eyes. Before she could retort, Malfoy closed his eyes and slumped in his chair. Instantly, Ginny remembered why she was actually in Malfoy's room. She mixed up the strengthening potion in the glass on the nightstand.
"Malfoy?" She demanded loudly. Reaching over, she shook his shoulder. He stirred a little, and Ginny felt her hand tingle. Snatching it back, she cursed quietly about the stupid predicament she'd got herself into. Malfoy's eyes opened, unfocussed. "Malfoy, drink this," she said clearly, holding the glass up to his mouth. Most of the potion made it into him. After a few long moments, Malfoy's eyes focussed again. Ginny could feel her hands shaking.
"Going to a great deal of trouble to keep me alive, Weasley," he commented.
"I'm a nice person," she retorted.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you are."
Ginny got up. "Get some sleep, Malfoy," she replied, leaving and closing the door behind herself before he could say anything more.
Sleep was long in coming, that night.