Picking Flowers
| VII | A Letter From the Dead
"Oh, this is the one for sure, Colin!" Luna called, her voice carrying dreamily from behind the changing screen. Ginny held her breath as the other girl zipped her in, grimacing as Luna's hands struggled with the last few inches. Well, if this wasn't the most ridiculous situation Ginny had ever been forced into! She tried not to look down at her own body, clad as it was in some hideous, floofy cocktail thing. The last few hours had been filled with similar get-ups, all pulled from Luna's closet. Never before had Ginny wished to escape the Room of Requirement so desperately.
Colin visibly held back a snort of laughter as Luna urged Ginny out of their makeshift change room. He sat comfortably on a plush sofa, amidst heaps of strewn about clothing-he had been the one choosing these outfits for her, Ginny knew, and she also knew he was doing it solely to make a fool of her. Still, she couldn't help bursting into peels of laughter alongside him when she caught her own reflection in the three-sided mirror the room had produced for them-she looked like some sort of glittering lizard in this dress.
Luna, on the other hand, thought it was just perfect. "See what I told you? It looks fabulous. The green and yellow brings out the blue in your eyes, Ginny," the blonde explained. She did not mention the fact that the green and yellow clashed horribly with the bright red of Ginny's hair.
"I think...it's too fancy for this occasion," Colin said, trying to sound reasonable. Colin would never allow anybody but Luna to go to Hogsmeade wearing something like this. He was much too fashionable for that to happen.
"You're right!" Luna exclaimed, as though just coming to that realization herself. Ginny bit her lip, holding back laughter. "How about the purple one, then?"
Colin's eyebrows raised. Ginny already knew the purple would make her look much too pale, and that it was far too vibrant to mesh with her hair colour.
"Why don't we try on some of the clothes I brought?" Ginny asked, "Your clothes are a bit too small for me, Luna." It was true, too. Luna was slender and almost willowy compared to Ginny's athletic build; not to mention the fact that Ginny had definitely inherited Mrs. Weasley's generous chest.
Luna's blue eyes widened in understanding. "Yes, I agree. You won't be able to breathe if we go on this way."
Colin had already picked out an outfit. Ginny gave a sigh of relief as the clingy material of Luna's dress fell away from her body, and she gratefully donned her own more conservative clothing. A simple, flowy black skirt that she had only worn once, and a white spaghetti-strapped camisole beneath a warm, pink jumper. Ginny knew that this was the outfit she was going to Hogsmeade in, whether or not Colin and Luna approved of it. If she had to look nice, then she thought she looked plenty nice in this.
Colin nodded agreeably when he saw her in it. "Yup." He performed a charm that began to automatically fold and collect the scattered clothing around them. "That one is just right. Now put it on a hanger and keep it nice and clean for Saturday."
Luna nodded perfunctorily, handing Ginny the school robes she had abandonned in order to play this little game of dress-up.
Ginny wished she knew the time. Right on cue, the room produced a small, ticking wall-clock. "It's almost curfew," she said, as she performed a Shrinking Charm of the clothes she had brought with her. She stuffed them in her pocket, just as Luna did the same.
"Hmm," Luna replied in acknowledgment. Colin was already at the door, looking around the room to make sure nothing was forgotten. "Those Ravenclaw Prefects," Luna mused suddenly, "they seem to have itching dust all over them lately. Every time I come in late, they're always there scratching about the Common Room."
Ginny chuckled slightly. It was the same with the Gryffindor Prefects, most of the time. They were all over-eager to catch people coming in late. She pulled the door of the Room shut.
"Well, we're heading this way," Colin said, giving Luna a goodbye smile. Ginny did the same, and the blonde waved slightly as she split from them.
The two Gryffindors didn't rush as they walked back to their Common Room, but they didn't dally either. Neither one of them wanted admonitions from their Prefects, and the best, and in fact only way, to avoid that would be to get back to the Common Room before curfew. Still, Ginny couldn't help her curiousity about the upcoming Saturday.
She hopped in front of Colin, causing him to stop abruptly. "So what's my Saturday surprise?" she inquired, hoping that since he was away from Luna, his secret-keeping powers would be lessened.
His eyebrows drew down suspiciously. "Trying to worm it out of me, are you? Well, nuh-uh." He dodged around her with a surprising show of agility.
Ginny made a face at his back. She hustled to catch up with him. "Well...at least give me a hint!" she pleaded, grabbing his arm and pouting sorrowfully.
"Oh no!" he called dramatically, covering his eyes with his spare hand, "Not that look!"
It was a no go. No matter what tactic she used, it seemed that neither of her friends was about to budge. She said goodnight to Colin with some disappointment, retiring to her Dormitory with the intent to take a shower.
The hot water felt good on her skin, remarkably good. She let it run over her face and chest, relaxing into the sound of it hitting the shower tiles. Her thoughts wandered, mulling over what Colin and Luna had planned, trying to think of any reason the two of them could have for making her look nice to go to Hogsmeade. In past Hogsmeade excursions, she had usually worn an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt in good weather, and an old pair of jeans and a jumper in bad weather. It was true that her wardrobe did not often sport much variation for Hogsmeade trips. Like any girl, Ginny liked to look pretty-but only if she had a clear reason to.
Her mind took a turn into Malfoy territory. She had seen him a few times on Hogsmeade trips in the past few years, dressed impeccably in slacks and shirts, or sometimes even wizarding robes. All the Slytherins maintained their aristocratic exterior, no matter the occasion. The world might end before it saw Draco Malfoy don a pair of jeans.
She wondered what he had done in the library today. It seemed he spent most of his time there, stored away in that same little corner, absorbing as many books as he could put his hands on. He always had a new one when Ginny went to visit him after classes. Well, it wasn't so much visiting, she reasoned. She only went to do her homework. At least, that was what she had been telling herself these past few days. It wasn't like they had conversations, or anything. She didn't even enjoy his company, though it was quite good company for doing homework in-mostly because he completely ignored her. She just needed reassurance that he was really there. Today was the first day this week that she hadn't gone to 'do her homework'.
Ginny dressed in the bathroom, toweling off her hair in the steamy aftermath of her shower. In the morning, she'd head off early to the library, probably under the pretense of last minute homework. Malfoy would be there for sure, and she would be able to make sure he was real and that would be the end of it.
Her hair was still damp when she lay her head on her pillow. It would probably give her terrible hair in the morning, but Drying Charms didn't do much for her locks, either. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and stretching out her limbs, as she always liked to do before bed. It was a way of relaxing herself after a long day, a way of finally allowing the exhaustion to set in and carry her off into sleep.
But her left foot brushed against a warm, solid mass.
Her eyes opened and her head snapped to the side. And there he was-Draco Malfoy, in all his glory, on her bed in much the same way he had been one week ago today. He was right next to her, almost sharing her pillow with his arms crossed behind his head.
"Malfoy!" she said, her voice harsh with surprise as she sat up, "What are you doing here?"
He turned towards her, a smirk visible on his handsome face even in the dim light. "I haven't visited you in bed for a while, hm?" he mused, his silver eyes fixed on her.
"Get off!" she almost screeched, for some reason extremely embarrassed to have him lying right there, staring up at her. She made to shove him, but her hands against his shoulder had no effect. She removed them quickly, as though burned by the warm skin.
He made a face at her. "I thought you liked me now, Weasley," he said, mocking a hurtful tone, "I thought you wouldn't mind sleeping with me."
Ginny's eyes widened with outrage. She wanted to hit him upside the head, as she often did with Ron when he said something utterly stupid to which she had no reply.
Malfoy's face seemed to soften slightly, though Ginny couldn't be sure. "Where were you this evening?"
She felt something strange welling up in her stomach, heightened by extraordinary shock. "Miss me or something, Malfoy?" she questioned, looking away from him.
"No," was his simple answer. Ginny bit the inside of her cheek, somehow disappointed that he could be so brutally honest. "You're avoiding the question though."
"I was with my friends," she said, firmly, sounding more satisfied than she'd meant to, "I do still have friends, you know."
He rose up from the bed then, his eyes darkening with something Ginny couldn't identify. The mattress creaked with his weight. "You mean you were with that Creevey boy. Flirting with him. I saw it."
Ginny felt a flash of the oddest kind of pleasure. That meant he'd been watching her, and she'd be damned if he didn't sound a little envious. "So what if I was?" Not that she would ever flirt with Colin. She just wanted to see what Malfoy would do. She wanted to see if he was really jealous.
His eyes narrowed. Suddenly he was a lot closer than he had been before, and suddenly Ginny's heart was beating very quickly, hammering, in fact, against her ribcage. His body was emanating heat, and, Merlin, he was close enough for her to count his eyelashes. Something was fluttering in her stomach-and she was reminded of that time he had saved her from Mrs. Norris, the way he had had the length, the full entirety, of his body pressed against hers, and how alive and wonderful he had felt and what would it be like to feel that again and-
Ginny turned her face away from him, her cheeks burning. "Colin is gay."
"What?"
"Colin is gay, Malfoy." She watched his expression out of the corner of her eye, slightly amused despite her confused thoughts. He pressed his lips together as if finally coming to his senses, his eyes focusing, his body moving away from hers. Nothing else but these subtle, slight movements told her he had even registered what she'd said.
"Hmph," he grunted, "Lost that wager."
"Wager?"
"Never mind," he said, swinging his legs over the side of her bed and getting up. Merlin, but he was tall. Ginny had almost forgotten because most of the time she saw him, he was sitting in the library. He moved towards her satchel, opening it and plunging a hand inside. "Weasley, I'm going to use some parchment and ink. And a quill."
"What for?" she asked, despite being slightly miffed about his invasion of her things. He hadn't even asked to use her stationary. He had simply told her that he would.
"I'm writing a letter."
"To who?"
"Why, that's none of your business, Weasel." He glanced at her, smirking once again.
Well! Of course it was her business! He was using her things to write it, after all! Ginny rolled over, intent on putting him out of her mind. She tried to block out the sound of him rummaging through her things, and tried-desperately, really, to block out the strange, awkward emotions that were rolling about in her head. What had just happened between the two of them? Had he done that on purpose-that muddling of her thoughts-with some weird, ghostly magic of his? Ginny felt hopelessly confused.
She thought about what Colin and Luna had planned. That helped a bit. Going out to Hogsmeade, being away from Malfoy. That would make all of this better for sure. At least, she hoped so.
Ginny felt utterly ragged the next morning, but she managed to flash Dean Thomas an amicable smile as she settled down next to him for breakfast. The Great Hall was, as always, in a flutter of motion, filled with energy despite the grogginess of those within it. Ginny yawned, glancing up at the vaulted ceiling to see a cloudless, blue sky.
"Looks like the weather will be good for Hogsmeade tomorrow," Dean commented. Ginny could only nod. She had tried not to let Malfoy's letter writing interrupt her much needed rest, but for some reason it still had. Not only because he had wasted countless rolls of parchment and ink rewriting said letter, but because she had spent almost the entire night wondering who on earth he could be writing to. His mother? It seemed plausible, but much too cruel. The poor woman would probably think someone was playing a prank on her, posing as her dead son. She hoped Malfoy had sense enough to realize that much.
"You don't look so fantastic this morning," Colin commented, seating himself across from her and reaching for a slice of toast. He grinned widely nonetheless. "You'd better sleep well tonight."
"I'll work on it," Ginny said. Truthfully, the only way she was ever able to get a good night's rest was when Malfoy was behaving himself. When she had woken from her restless sleep, he and all traces of his nighttime activities had been gone. Only her dried up inkpot and half-dead quill had remained.
"Sleep's important," Dean agreed through a mouthful of eggs. Ginny offered him another smile, but her eyes were already scanning the Hall, settling finally on the Slytherin table. It's not that she was looking for Malfoy. She knew he liked to hang around the Slytherin table sometimes during meals and, even though she knew he had confined himself to the library lately, Ginny took ascertaining his presence in the Hall as a matter of caution. She did not want to suffer any more humiliation at his hands.
There he was, looking actually rather stricken, pacing back and forth in the general vicinity of Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. The two living Slytherins ate slowly. Ginny could not say that either one of them had returned to normal since Malfoy's accident. Although both kept up their aristocratic refinement and generally unreadable expressions, they looked deflated somehow. Ginny felt a pang of something almost like sympathy. If something had happened to Colin or Luna, she wouldn't even have been able to attend classes. Probably, she would have gone home and wept on her mother's bosom.
The post chose that moment to come in. All over the Hall, birds of every size and shape swooped down from the slitted windows, their flapping wings creating a current that made Ginny's hair fly up around her face. People jumped up excitedly to catch packages, and Ginny grimaced as a Daily Prophet splashed unceremoniously into her bowl, sending oatmeal everywhere. Once the ruckus had died down, Ginny reached for it, though her eyes had once again strayed to the Slytherin table.
To her surprise, Malfoy was standing stock still behind Blaise Zabini. The dark-haired boy held an opened letter in his hands. Ginny's eyebrows rose. Malfoy had written a letter to Zabini, then? She frowned, watching Zabini's eyes narrow as he glared at the letter and then flung it down onto the table. His face remained unchanged, but something incomprehensible flickered in his dark eyes. The tall, tanned boy rose swiftly from his seat, almost charging right through Malfoy on his furious way out of the Hall. Pansy stood, undoubtedly shocked by his behaviour, and Malfoy made as if to follow the other boy. What could the letter have said, to warrant such a reaction? Ginny almost moved to follow as well, before she saw Malfoy's steps falter and come to a stop.
She couldn't see his face because his back was turned to her, but something about his posture made her, inexplicably, want to hug him.
Malfoy was in his usual spot in the library after classes, and Ginny took her usual spot across from him. He didn't look up from his book, even when she neglected to take out any work from her satchel and just sat there staring at him. His face was almost obscured by the book he had chosen, and his blonde brows were furrowed as though in concentration.
Finally, he sighed, putting the book down and looking at her with a cocked brow. "Am I that good looking?" he questioned, somewhat theatrically.
Ginny pursed her lips, ignoring the question. There were a million things she wanted to ask him, but how could she? Not only was he acting like nothing had happened, but she was sure he would completely brush her off if she even dared to touch on what had happened this morning. She needed to ask, somehow. Not only because she was the only one he had to talk to, but because she needed to know. Right now, anything that involved Malfoy involved her as well.
"How did your letter go?" she asked, cocking her head in what she hoped was an innocent fashion. Maybe if she pretended she hadn't seen this morning's debacle, she could get something out of him.
He sneered. "Don't act like you didn't see the whole thing." He picked his book back up, signaling the end of the conversation.
Ginny wasn't ready to end it there, even though she had been caught. If he knew she knew, then goddammit, couldn't he just tell her the rest? "What did you say in it, Malfoy?"
His eyes flashed upward to catch her own from over the edge of the book. "Why don't you go hang out with your friends Weasley? It's a Friday night after all, and since you have them I'm sure they'd be ecstatic to see you." His tone was cold, biting. She hadn't heard him speak like that in what seemed like a very long time, and, strangely enough, it stung.
She got up, gathering her things. "I'm leaving, then," she said, trying to sound indifferent. If he didn't want to tell her, she wasn't going to stick around in his detestable company for longer than she needed to. She had done what was necessary-ensuring he was real, inquiring about this morning-and now she was leaving. It had been a while since she'd hung out with the other Gryffindors after class. Maybe she would challenge Ron to a game of Wizard's Chess.
It wasn't until she was out in the halls heading back to Gryffindor Tower that she realized her eyes were burning with tears. She wanted to cry, not because she felt slighted by Malfoy's behaviour, but because suddenly it had hit her: she had friends to go back to, people who knew her and accepted her. She remembered Zabini's blunt rejection of the letter this morning, Malfoy's faltering footsteps, his defeated back. Malfoy wasn't simply being malicious. He missed his friends. He was lonely.
Author's Note: Well it's been a super long time since I've posted anything. Like I often tend to do, I was reading over some of my work and this story once again stirred up my interest. I've always intended to finish it, because I really like the premise, so I'll probably keep posting as often as I can, when the fancy takes me. Review if you like it :-) Next chapter is Hogsmeade!