The Long and Short of it
Every Wednesday, Neville Longbottom visited his parents. For one hour he revelled in their presence. For one hour he would endure them. He wished he could stay longer but his lunch break was only one hour. Then he wished his boss hadn't agreed to let him have an extended lunch break.
The war had changed Neville. Hardened him and robbed him of his boyish ignorance and naivety. He carried a bitter chip on his shoulder. Not as large as some but he could feel it there, pressing on him, digging into his flesh. He sighed as he listened to his mother's nonsensical nattering.
"You're a nice boy," she said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "My Neville will be a nice boy." Neville stared at her. She had never mentioned him before. "Yes," she continued. "He would have been a nice boy."
Neville felt his throat constrict and his eyes begin to well with tears. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, his wand falling to the floor. He watched his parents until his wand began to admit a low-pitched beeping sound.
Bidding his parents farewell, Neville made his way to the nearest Apparition point. He went through the rest of the day mechanically, his mother's words replayed in his head over and over, till he felt as though that simple sentence was scorching his temples. My Neville will be a nice boy. He was a nice boy. And he was a good man.
Lost in his thoughts as he walked home, Neville failed to notice the large man that had been following him for the past four days.
GMGMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"What have you got for me, Greg?" Draco asked, leaning back in his chair at the Malfoy Corporation.
"Not a lot," Greg replied, sounding bored. "Looks like Longbottom was just a friend. Seems like he was the only person she really stayed in contact with after the war."
"What? So she met him once a week to shag behind Potter's back?" Draco sneered hatefully.
"That was more your scene, wasn't it?" Greg asked testily. Draco's chair snapped forward, his features morphing into a fierce glare, his teeth bared.
"Watch your mouth, Goyle," he ground out, gripping the edge of his desk tightly. Greg simply rolled his eyes. He had learnt long ago that Draco Malfoy wasn't nearly as dangerous and ruthless as he would have people believe.
"Or they could be at the spell damage ward visiting Longbottom's parents," Greg suggested. Draco scrubbed his face with his hands, pushing his hair out his face. He absently made a mental note to have his hair seen too. It really was getting too long. He had no desire to enhance the similarities between himself and his father.
"Grab us the whiskey would you?" Draco sighed tiredly. "I need a drink before I go see Longbottom."
Greg fished his wand out his robe pocket obediently, knowing his friend had reached his limit. With a muttered Wingardium Leviosa, Greg flicked his wand in the direction of the whisky. The bottle shattered, spilling across the table where it resided and seeping into the carpet below. Greg froze, not daring to move more than to dart his eyes trying to judge Draco's reaction.
Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Please don't tell me that was the 21 year old MacAoidh."
Greg took a few tentative steps forward craning his neck in order to see the bottle's label amongst the broken glass. He spotted the distinctive MacAoidh crest and sighed. "Fair enough. I'll respect your wishes."
"Get out of my office."
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
Neville stepped out of his small bathroom rubbing his temples. The hot shower he had longed for not having the desired affect on his headache. Dressing for bed in simple drawstring cotton trousers and a t-shirt, Neville trudged into his small kitchen making himself a cup of white tea. It was a habit he had picked up from his Gran who was always seeking to ensure the healthiest diet possible. He suspected her obsession with finding the healthiest of options stemmed from her fear of how he would cope if he lost her as well as his parents.
Spilling a few drops of his tea on his coffee table, despite his care to avoid such an occurrence, Neville flopped onto his couch. He sipped mechanically until he reached the border between sleep and consciousness, the teacup tipping precariously in his hand, threatening to spill the remains of his tea across his chest.
A sharp knock at his door, saw Neville sit bolt upright, spilling the last of his tea everywhere. The delicate floral design of the tea cup shattered on contact with the hardwood floor. Wiping away the tea that had landed on him, Neville stood, grumbling as he made his way to the door.
"Longbottom," Malfoy greeted pleasantly when the door opened. "I thought we could have a little chat," he said, smiling evilly.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"I assure you, Gregory, I am well aware of the implications of Ginny leaving of her own free will, however, I do not accept that every effort should not be made to locate her!" Greg sighed at his boyfriend's words. He was getting sick of having this conversation over and over again. Draco, Percy. Percy, Draco. It was too much. "My brothers and the Ministry may have abandoned hope but I will not."
"Perce, you have to let her go. She'll contact you in her own time," Greg said, trying desperately to keep the exasperation out of his voice. It was hardly Percy's fault that Draco was an idiot and had to keep rehashing everything with him.
"You did not know my sister," Percy replied pointedly, pompously crossing his arms across his chest and sticking his nose in the air. "You have no knowledge of her behavioural tendencies."
"No, but I know Weasleys and you're all as stubborn as each other." Percy looked affronted by the suggestion but didn't interrupt. "She'll come home, Percy." He looked softly at Greg, before allowing himself to be pulled into Greg's arms. "I promise." Because Draco is going to drag her here whether she likes it or not, he added silently.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"Why did you meet her every week at St Mungo's?"
"That is none of your business, Malfoy," Longbottom spat at Draco who had made himself comfortable on Longbottom's couch. Draco stared at Longbottom curiously. When had that runt grown a spine?
"Were you shagging her behind Potter's back?" Draco asked indifferently. "You always were trying to be Potter. Maybe fucking his girl was your one way of achieving that end." Longbottom looked shocked at the suggestion, spluttering what Draco assumed was a denial of his accusation. "Since your meetings with Weasley were so innocent you should have no qualms about sharing the details of those," he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "dates with me."
Neville sighed. Quickly weighing up his options he decided that telling Malfoy what he wanted to know was by far the easiest path. It wasn't like he knew anything useful anyway.
He spoke softly but surely as he acquiesced to Malfoy. "She volunteered in the spell damage ward. She'd spent a lot of time there after the war with her brothers and Harry. She knew that after a while people just forget about the people there. Everybody just goes on with their lives while people sit rotting in an under funded ward with over worked staff. So every week she came and talked to the patients and helped the nurses." He shook his head sadly. "Is that enough for you Malfoy?" he asked, suddenly fierce. "Can you get out of my house now, please?"
Draco looked over Longbottom carefully before deciding that he had gotten all the information he could out of him. Draco fought to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. Longbottom didn't know anything. He rose slowly from the couch, smoothing his robes, silently crossing the room to the door.
"Why do you want to find her so badly, Malfoy?" Longbottom asked suddenly, halting Draco's exit.
"Simply repaying a debt," Draco replied ambiguously. He was surprised to hear Longbottom snort at his reply. He turned sharply to face Longbottom, shocked at the dark expression on the once podgy boy's face.
"Did you ever stop to think, Malfoy, that maybe you are the reason she left?"
"The thought had not crossed my mind," Draco lied smoothly, quirking an eyebrow in a façade of surprise.
"I don't know what was between you and Ginny, but I do know that you hurt her." Draco stood stoically, his thoughts masked by his stony expression. "If you do happen to find her, if you make so much as one tear roll down her cheek, I will personally make sure you never take another breath." The threat, though not as effective as it would have been had Longbottom not allowed his voice to wobble, was enough to have Draco promptly exit the flat. There was something in Longbottom's eyes that had Draco making a mental note to have a house-elf test his tea for poison from now on and he hastily Apparated home.
Closing the door behind Malfoy, Neville leaned his head against the cold wood, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His headache had returned with vengeance. Tiredly, Neville retrieved his wand from his cloak and with a muttered Reparo, melded the pieces of broken china together. He sighed as he placed the now clean small cup back in his cupboard, noticing the small chip on the rim.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
Draco threw his cloak in the general direction of a house-elf upon Apparating into his parlour. He reasoned that, as it was eight o'clock, the most likely place he would find Tilly would be the kitchen, carefully ensuring his dinner would still be fresh and warm when he returned home. He stalked to the kitchen being careful to mute his approach. Cautiously, he peered through the window on the door, smiling smugly as he spotted Tilly ordering the other elves around.
Murmuring so as not to be heard by Tilly, Draco cast spell after spell on the kitchen door. He uttered one last incantation his father had taught him preventing house-elf Apparition in this part of the manor. Satisfied the door was well and truly locked, he quickly and quietly made his way to his study.
As he made his way upstairs, he calculated that it would take five minutes for the house-elf he had just passed in the parlour to gain the courage to inform Tilly of his arrival and then a further fifteen minutes for her to break the charms he had placed around the kitchen. That gave him twenty minutes to get himself unequivocally pissed before Tilly stormed in and took away his alcohol whilst giving him a lecture. He was in no mood to hear that his drinking wouldn't bring Ginny back. If he was honest with himself, the only time she left was when he was too drunk to form a thought.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"I've already said no!" Ginny said forcibly, glaring at Alex around a vase of brightly coloured flowers.
"Come on, Gin," Alex cajoled. "You've been here, what five months?" Ginny nodded reluctantly. "It's about time you went on a date and Brian is a great guy."
"He was boring. I spent five minutes with the guy and wanted a nap!"
Alex shrugged. "Yeah, he has that affect on me too." Ginny rolled her eyes. "What? I thought it was just me. Salad?" Alex offered after placing a small amount of salad onto his plate.
"What about that lovely boy who asked you out the other night?" Mama asked from the kitchen, filling a bowl with bread rolls. "Why'd you say no to him?"
"He had dreadlocks!"
"And your hair is curly and the colour of a fucking vegetable but he was able to look past that!"
"I just don't want to get into a relationship right now," Ginny said calmly and definitively, her tone indicating the conversation was over.
Mama, however, ignored the tone. "Who said anything about a relationship? You just need to get laid!"
"Mama!" Ginny cried scandalised, casting worried looks at the three young boys at the end of the table, who until that point had little interest in the adult's conversation.
"What?" Mama asked, slipping into the seat across from Ginny. "It relieves stress."
"I. Am. Not. Stressed," Ginny denied vehemently, clenching her jaw. Her fingers gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles were white.
"No, you just have a stick shoved so far up your ass that-"
"I think she understands you, Lotti," Wyatt interrupted sternly, flashing Ginny an apologetic smile.
"No, she doesn't," Charlotte insisted, giving her husband a fierce glare. "She's so concerned with proving to her family that she can live her life anyway she wants that she's not living it."
"I am too living my life. Just because my life is man-less - at the moment," she added hastily. "Doesn't mean that there's something wrong with it."
"When it means that you're not meeting anyone, yes it damn well does! You haven't made any friends since you got here."
"What about Angie? I'm going there after dinner," Ginny pointed out smugly.
"Angie doesn't count. You met her at work through Alex," Mama said dismissively. "You're young. You need to go out to clubs and dance and drink, and then stumble home completely "smashed". You need to run the risk of waking up with a new piercing- which you boys will no do until you are twenty one," she added fiercely to Sean, Tyler and Jet, pairing her tone with an intimidating glare and wagging a finger in front of her. "Is that clear?"
"Yes Mama," the boys grumbled obediently, turning their eyes downcast to their plates.
"Baby," Mama said softly. "You've got no one to please here. There's no standard you have to live up too. No expectations." Ginny looked into Mama's warm eyes, feeling comforted, safe and contented – and mortally embarrassed. "Except mine," she added bluntly. "And I want you to have a lead a life you have fun with. Play the fucking piano, attempt to wear yellow with that hair. I don't care what you do as long as you stop just letting life happen to you. You moved here for a fresh start so fucking start already." Ginny just stared at her, at a loss as to how to respond. "Peas?" Mama offered.
Ginny sat in thought, hoping feverously that the heat in her cheeks would subside, while quietly nibbling her way through her plate and a generous helping of peas. She turned her head sharply, shocked, as Alex whispered into her ear. "It's a good thing Mama isn't the type to discuss private issues in front of people, isn't it?" He winked at her as she laughed lightly, glancing fondly at Mama as Alex rolled his eyes, effectively breaking Ginny out of her reprieve.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"And she said all that with the boys there?" Angie asked, pouring herself a glass of wine.
"Yep," Ginny replied, popping a Maltesa into her mouth. "I swear the woman is missing some kind of lobe!"
"You love her," Angie teased lightly.
"Course I do," Ginny replied swiftly and sincerely. "I don't know what I'd do without her."
"When Adam died, she brought dinner over every night and just chatted to me until I had eaten every morsel. It really was torture." Angie smiled sadly, picking up the sterling silver frame from the cabinet. Running her fingers over her late husband's face, she spoke softly, "It's a year next week," she said abruptly. There was no emotion in her voice. It was simply a statement of fact. Ginny moved to stand behind her, rubbing her back lightly in a comforting gesture she recognised as her Mother's.
"We'd just found out we were having a girl and he was so excited. He had to get her something." She laughed slightly at the memory, a tear running down her cheek. "Something pink. He said he couldn't wait, he had to go get it right then. He got her this pink elephant. It's still bigger than her! He went out to get it and never came back."
Ginny stared at the picture in Angie's hand, feeling helpless. She knew from experience that the only way to help someone through the grief was to simply let them feel it. Still, she felt helpless. Ginny continued rubbing Angie's back, silently letting Angie know she was here and that she was listening.
Angie placed her husband's picture back on the mantle carefully. "The last thing I said to him was 'you're an idiot'. Not 'I love you'. Not some cute pet name. I didn't even give him a kiss. I hit his back and called him an idiot. And then he died. Alone. On some dirty street. The last thing he saw was a barrel of a gun and a filthy gutter and… the last thing I said to him was 'you're an idiot'."
"He knew you loved him," Ginny said softly. "Just look at the way you're looking at him in these photos," she said, gesturing to the many photos of Angie and Adam that decorated the walls and tabletops.
"Sometimes I wonder," Angie murmured absently. She slowly placed the photo back on the cabinet, running her finger once more across her husband's smiling face. Finicky, she straightened the picture until it sat in the perfect position. Angie stared at the picture silently, until suddenly, she caught sight of her tear stained reflection in the frame.
"Oh God," Angie exclaimed, pressing her palms to her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean too get all - its just hard…without him."
"I know," Ginny replied inadequately. "I'm- I'm always here if you want to talk." Angie smiled thankfully at Ginny, squeezing her hand.
"Well," Angie said, shaking her head as if the motion would clear away her remaining tears and took a deep breath. She breathed out loudly, expelling one more tiny vestige of her grief. "In the spirit of opening up all these emotional wounds," she began, desperately needed a distraction. "can I hear about your disastrous relationship with the infamous Harry Potter?"
"There's not a large wound," Ginny said, turning away from Angie. "No big story." She walked to the middle of the room and picked up her glass of wine, swirling the dark red liquid around, watching pensively as it licked the rim. "We were together. He was wrong for me. It didn't work out." Ginny shrugged, still not looking at Angie. It felt wrong to discuss something so trivial when Angie had so recently had her husband taken from her. "That's it."
Angie raised her eyebrows. "That's it?" she questioned, unconvinced. Ginny nodded, smiling tightly at Angie.
"That's it."
"So there was an article about your 'abduction' in the Prophet and you haven't contacted your family since because 'that was it'?"
"What am I meant to say?" Ginny exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, suddenly finding herself flying off the edge of an unspeakably high cliff. "Sorry, Mum, Dad. I know that leaving England in the middle of the night without some much as a cheery-bye was not the most rational decision I have ever made but I was scared that if you knew where I was you'd come and drag me back and I wouldn't be able to say no and I would end up living the life that they always wanted for me. Marrying Harry, having a Quidditch team of kids and hating my fucking life more and more because I can't stand being with Harry bloody Potter anymore who, while we're on the subject, my entire family adores and can't wait till he's an official member of the Weasley family, because I'm in love with fucking Draco Malfoy who took sadistic pleasure in breaking my heart into a million little pieces and who-"
"Whoa, Gin!" Angie exclaimed. "Take a breath. Calm down." She grabbed Ginny's flailing hands, caging them in hers, afraid that Ginny would dislocate her shoulder if she were allowed to continue with the large, almost comic gestures. "You had a relationship with Draco Malfoy? While you were with Harry?"
Ginny's eyes widened as she the realisation of what she had said sinking in. She began to deny ever being with Draco but stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath. "Just a little thing," she conceded meekly.
"Don't Weasleys and Malfoys hate each other for something that neither side can remember but still feel the need to hold a grudge over?"
"Yes," Ginny grumbled, flopping down on Angie's couch. "Oh and Weasleys are blood traitors," she added flippantly.
"How did you two happen?" Angie asked shocked, tapping Ginny's legs. Ginny raised her legs, allowing Angie to sit, before lowering them onto Angie's lap.
"Not much to tell really," Ginny shrugged. "He was assigned chaperone duties to my piano lessons in my 4th year by Professor Umbridge. She didn't think it was acceptable for me to have private music lessons given my allegiances; didn't trust me to roam the castle after curfew."
"And he was different than usual? So nice to you when he didn't have an audience that he had to impress?" Angie asked, swooning, a far away look clouding her eyes.
"No," Ginny snorted, bringing Angie crashing back to reality. "He was an utter bastard."
"What?" Angie asked shocked. "Then how did you fall in love with him? You're so sweet!"
Ginny snorted again, earning herself a glare from Angie before answering softly. Thoughtfully she said, "I don't know. I guess at some stage there just wasn't that malice between us. I don't think he's really capable of nice." she added as an afterthought.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
"Malfoy!" Ginny called, chasing him down the crowded corridor, pushing through the throng of first and second years she had found him in the middle of. "Hey! Would you slow down, I gotta talk to you!"
Draco stopped abruptly and turned to her, resisting the urge to flinch as she barrelled towards him, stopping mere millimetres from him. "Was that so hard?" she asked condescendingly, rummaging through the pieces of frayed- well, he supposed it was hessian or a similarly heinous fabric – that she used as a bag.
"Here," she said, thrusting a crumpled piece of parchment at him. He plucked the parchment from her, holding it with just his thumb and fore finger. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"And this would be?" he asked, holding the parchment a safe distance from his person.
"My lesson schedule. Umbridge said I had to give you a copy so you could 'suitably allocate your time around my imposition," she said in a perfect imitation of Umbridge. "Oh, and apparently I'm meant to thank you for so generously giving up your spare time so I can pursue 'frivolous extra curricular activities.'"
"Your gratitude is coming off you in waves," Draco sneered sarcastically. "Was there something wrong with an owl?" he inquired, folding the parchment as neatly as he could given its crumpled state and dropped it in his bag- that he was happy to say was made of the finest quality leather.
"I was afraid you wouldn't open it if you knew it was from me." Ginny replied simply as she turned on her heel and started down the corridor. "Don't be late," she bellowed over her shoulder. Draco rubbed his temples until he felt the headache that always accompanied her presence eased. God, he hated Umbridge.
GMGMGMGMG*~*~*
Ginny sat at the piano glaring at Malfoy as he walked across the stage, concentrating on the boards that creaked – loudly.
"Malfoy, would you give it a rest?" Ginny growled through gritted teeth.
"I am simply fulfilling my role as head of the Inquisitorial Squad and assessing the weaknesses of the school in order to report back to Professor Umbridge." Draco informed her pompously. "She has been such a good influence on the school, wouldn't you agree?"
"Master Draco," William interrupted tiredly rolling his eyes. "Would you kindly stop prancing around and give me some semblance of peace so I may educate my pupil?"
Draco's head snapped towards him. "Malfoys do not prance."
"I shall interpret that as a 'yes, sir'."
Draco slowly made his way down the stairs of the stage, making a show of levitating a chair from across the room towards him, despite the presence of a neat stack pushed up against the wall behind him. Ginny sighed heavily. "Ignore him, Miss Ginevra," Sir William advised. "Unfortunately it is in his nature to irritate."
"You've got that figured out after two lessons?" Ginny asked with a grin. "Always knew you were a good judge of character," she concluded smugly.
"On the contrary, Miss Ginevra, I tutored Master Malfoy for almost year,"
"He was so bad that you gave up access to his parents Gringotts account?" Ginny asked with sinful glee. She grinned at Malfoy who glared disdainfully back.
"Quite the opposite," William said, correcting her assumption. "Master Draco had vast potential and more than necessary skill. Long, nimble fingers and a technique that may well surpass yours, Miss Ginevra."
"Then why did you refuse to teach me?" Draco asked, loathe to ask in front of Weasley yet curious despite himself.
"Because you had no heart, Master Malfoy," William replied, impassioned, his fist clenched before him. "No heart at all," he repeated mournfully.
"Heart?" Draco scoffed. "Heart doesn't make you any good."
"Quite true, Master Draco," Sir William conceded with a sorrowful nod of his head. "Heart makes you great."
Draco didn't make a sound for the rest of the hour, preferring to track the progress of a spider across the wall opposite him. He was disappointed to note that the lesson ended just as the spider came to rest above the piano. A quick spell and it all could have been thoroughly entertaining.
Nevertheless, he took the stairs at a faster pace than he would usually have to ensure the Weaslette was always a sufficient distance away from him, struggling to keep up.
"Malfoy, slow down," Ginny puffed. "Any one would think you didn't enjoy my company."
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, waiting impatiently for her to join him. Why did the music department have to be so bloody far away from everything? It was worse than the Divination tower. What was wrong with a simple silencing spell?
"Anyone would be right," he answered unnecessarily.
"Hey, this is as painful for me as it is for you." Ginny replied indignantly, glaring nastily and crossing her arms defensively across her chest.
"I highly doubt it,"
"Careful, Malfoy," Ginny said, rushing to catch up to him. "You might hurt my feelings."
"Now that would be a shame."
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Ginny realised that she didn't recognise this part of the castle. She surveyed the empty corridor intently, noting the absence of portraits and the many cobwebs lining the ceiling. "Ah Malfoy," she began, coming to an abrupt stop. "Where are we?"
"What do you mean – oh bloody hell," Draco swore. "Come on, Weasley," he ordered, brushing past her quickly. He quickened his pace as he heard her following him. Mentally, he cursed himself. He had been so intent on making the trek back to Gryffindor tower as difficult for her as possible that he completely missed the corner he was supposed to turn down.
Draco was surprised when she fell into step beside him. "How long did you play the piano for?" she asked curiously, sounding breathless.
"Why do you care?" Draco asked disdainfully, finally turning down the right corridor.
"Just curious." She shrugged. "Thought it may pay to at least be civil seeing as I'm stuck with you for the rest of the year."
"You're stuck with me?" he asked, staring at her as if she had just suggested he and Hagrid copulate. "I'm the one who was forced to be here to ensure you didn't cause any trouble!"
Ginny waved her hand in the air dismissively, making a soft noise of indifference. "Either way, being civil is not going to hurt. Give it a go, Malfoy. You may even find you like it," she said with a grin. She skipped a few steps ahead of him and then turned around walking backwards. "Come on, Malfoy. How long have you been playing the piano?"
Draco watched Ginny critically as she walked into a suit of armour – "You could have warned me, Malfoy!" – and decided that perhaps he could use being civil to the Weaslette to his advantage. After all, who was closer to the do-good trio but her?
"Since I was seven," he said guardedly. Ginny smiled brightly at him causing Draco to roll his eyes.
"Me too," Ginny reciprocated. "Bill bought me a beginner's guidebook for my birthday. Said he got sick of listening to me banging on the keys all hols."
"A guidebook?" Draco repeated sceptically. "You can hardly say you started playing the piano when you came into possession of a guidebook."
"I can too," Ginny replied indignantly. "I could play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' by the end of the day!"
"When did you start lessons?" Draco asked sounding bored.
"Few months after my birthday. There was a woman in town who taught about five different instruments," she answered nostalgically, a soft smile gracing her freckled face. She looked up at his expressionless face and fought back a sigh. "Bet you had some famous instructor."
"Father procured Alexandro Roukie." He glanced at Ginny to gage her reaction. She was looking at him blankly. He rolled his eyes and informed her testily, "Roukie is one of the finest instructors in Europe."
"I'm sure he was a great teacher," Ginny supplied, placating.
"Mother had him travel to Hogwarts during the school year until she learned Sir Brackensouth taught here," Draco stated, ignoring Ginny's comment. "I think my mother had dreams of me being a concert pianist."
"Clearly if she was willing to pay William's fee."
"What use does ghost have for money anyway? It's not like he can do anything with it."
"You never saw his private quarters, did you?" Ginny asked, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Why would I need to see him outside my lessons," Draco sneered disdainfully. "My father wasn't paying him for his conversational skills."
Despite his indifferent tone, Draco suddenly felt inferior to the youngest Weasley and he didn't like it. He hadn't even known the ghost had private quarters. None of the other Hogwarts ghosts had private quarters and it was perfectly reasonable to assume the same of Sir Brackensouth, Draco rationalised. And yet she knew.
Brackensouth had clearly said that he was the more skilled of the two and yet she was the one he focused on. She was the one he thought was so talented that she deserved to receive free lessons while he, the more skilful player, had to pay the stupid ghost an unreasonable amount and then suffer the indignity of being unceremoniously cut from Sir Brackensouth's student list. It was preposterous. It was wrong. Weasleys were under no circumstances better than Malfoys. No, Draco did not like it one iota.
"William collects things," Ginny replied, ignoring his response to her question. "Antique, priceless things. Paintings, vases, plates, carpets, I think the odd stamp. That all costs money. Lots of money."
"Why does a ghost need expensive crockery?" Draco asked perplexed, unconsciously opening the door to the main part of the castle for her and standing aside to let her pass in front of him.
"William enjoyed a certain standard when he was alive," Ginny explained, choosing not to comment on Draco's impromptu display of chivalry. "And he doesn't think he should change that just because he's dead. Much like Professor Binns," she added thoughtfully. "just less sadistic."
GMGMGMGMGMGMG*~*~*