(AN: Woo! Another update. I'm in the writing mood lately and I kind of feel guilty for not updating for two weeks, so here have another chapter! No promises still about when I'll update. It happens when it happens, man. Thanks for reading!)
"Are you sure?" Ginny demanded, pressing the note harder into the girl's hand.
The Ravenclaw girl looked at her with alarm, and Ginny could not blame her. She was acting crazy but this girl, one of Luna's acquaintances, was the fifth student she had asked today. Desperation was beginning to shred her mind.
"No Ginny," the girl shoved the note back, taking a step away from Ginny clearly anxious to escape. "I'm sorry but I've never seen that handwriting before!" She took off, nearly running away in her haste. She had not even looked at the note again.
Ginny sighed and folded the note back up, shoving it into her pocket angrily. Nobody had recognized the handwriting yet, confirming, in Ginny's mind at least, that it was in fact Malfoy's. The night before last, when she had returned to her dorm room, Ginny had felt doubt growing in her mind, gnawing at her stomach. Maybe she had just imagined seeing the handwriting before; maybe it was someone else's handwriting, someone who she knew or saw often enough to recognize their handwriting. It certainly made more sense than her knowing Malfoy's handwriting.
The next morning she had shown both Neville and Luna but neither had been able to identify it, and now five other students had not either. She knew it was Malfoy's, had known the entire time, but she had almost hoped it was similar enough to someone else's, someone's handwriting she would have seen before. She wanted it to be anyone's handwriting, anyone besides Malfoy.
Ginny sighed and began walking to her next class. She would surely get in trouble for lingering in the hallways, and Malfoy's jab about wanting more detention this week echoed through her mind in warning. She effortlessly weaved her way through the crowded halls, her mind distracted. She knew she had seen Malfoy's handwriting before, absolutely knew it, but she could not place where. It made no sense, just as his behavior made no sense.
All day yesterday, Ginny had waited for Malfoy to do something, to give some indication or make some comment, but he had not. He had simply ignored her. In the halls he studiously looked the other way and in Potions he had slept – actually slept rather than look at her. It was infuriating. This week had been hellish, and she was glad it was the last day of classes. She needed the weekend to think.
"Hey, Gin," a familiar voice called out.
Ginny glanced over her right shoulder to see Neville loping up to her. He shortened his step as he caught up with her so that they fell into step with one another. "Hey, Neville," she greeted back listlessly.
"No luck with the note then?" Neville's brow creased.
Ginny shook her head, hand itching to pull out the note again, but she resisted. It was already badly creased, if she kept impulsively studying it, it was sure to tear. Besides, Neville had already seen it.
"And you have no idea who sent it to you or what they meant?" Neville's eyes were open and earnest, completely trusting, and Ginny felt the deep burn of guilt at having lied to him. She had lied to Luna as well about the origin of the note, claiming it had just shown up on her desk in Potions and that she had no idea who had sent it or what they meant. While Luna's keen-eyed gaze had looked suspicious, Neville had immediately swallowed the excuse and suggested she ask around. Ginny had, but of course, that had proved futile. She had asked no less than twenty people the day before, and another five just this morning. All replied in the negative, eyeing the message with obvious curiosity.
"No, Neville," Ginny replied, avoiding his eyes. "I already told you, it just appeared on my desk."
"What's it say again?"
Ginny bit her lip. That was the hardest part of asking around, when people asked her what the message meant. It was rather straight forward. Do try to act more harmed, Weasley. Unless you want Carrow to know you weren't tortured last night. Then by all means, continue to act like you've committed a murder. It was not exactly easy to explain without admitting that she had not been tortured during her detention. So far she had simply lied when people asked. Of course she had been tortured, it was Malfoy after all. Yes, it had been hellish and terrible, etc.
Most people bought the lies right away, convinced by the long-standing hatred between their families, but a couple had still looked at her warily and then hurried away. If Ginny had been rational she might have tried harder to convince them, but she was far too consumed with the mystery.
Ignoring Neville's question, Ginny changed the subject. "Neville, what exactly happened when Malfoy tortured you?"
Neville's face darkened and he looked straight ahead. "What do you want to know about that for?"
"I'm sorry," Ginny blurted, feeling guilty for making him relive such a terrible memory. "It's just this note, and Malfoy has been acting weird. I just wanted to know if…if you'd noticed anything, that's all." She sounded like she was lying to her own ears, and she winced.
Neville simply stared at her for another moment, and then grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the stream of students. He ducked around a statue, coming to a halt in a wide alcove and releasing Ginny. His arms crossed over his chest and he faced her. "I don't remember too much, Gin," he admitted, shrugging. "I showed up in the dungeon and Malfoy was already there. He didn't even say anything, which I guess was weird. I kind of assumed he would brag, I mean it's Malfoy, right? But he just cast the curse, and then my mind goes blank."
Ginny bit her lip again. "You don't remember what you felt during the curse?"
Neville shifted. "I remember going into a dark place, almost a void really, but it was sharp, as though made of glass. It was painful, just pure pain. Isn't that what you felt?"
"Oh," Ginny quickly nodded, nearly giving herself whiplash. "Ya, that's exactly what it felt like."
"Then what was weird about it?" Neville tilted his head in question.
Searching for something, anything that contained some of the truth, Ginny could not meet Neville's eyes. "Malfoy was late," she finally said. "And, like you said, he didn't gloat. I expected him to gloat." That was honest enough, Malfoy had technically been late and she had expected him to gloat originally.
"Especially with you being a Weasley and all."
Ginny nodded, guilt washing over her again at lying to Neville so much. She didn't want to alarm him, though, by admitting that Malfoy had not showed. She also didn't want to isolate him, make him hate her for not experiencing the same pain he had had to. "That's what I thought, but he didn't say anything. In fact, he hasn't said a word to me since."
Neville frowned but simply shrugged again. "I have no idea what it means Ginny, but we noticed Malfoy wasn't himself almost right away, right? Maybe whatever it is he does is finally getting to him. Maybe Malfoy is just beginning to act more like Snape. Removed, you know?"
Ginny nodded, unable to bear disagreeing with Neville when he was only trying to help her. But Malfoy did not remind her of Snape, not in the least.
Neville seemed to sense her reluctance. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiled and said, "Don't let it worry you, Ginny. Whatever Malfoy's deal is, he is one of them, the bad guys. We'll get him; we'll get them all." His smile was so bright, his eyes so confident, that Ginny couldn't help but smile slightly back.
"Sure Neville," she placed her cheek against his hand, squeezing it between her shoulder and her face in a manner that resembled a hug. "We'll make them all pay."
Neville released her, still smiling, and then took two steps back, still looking at her. "Well I have class to get to, can't be late. Will you be alright?"
"Sure," Ginny smiled, forcing brightness into the gesture. "I have McGonagall now anyways. I shouldn't be late or else she'll tear into me."
Neville laughed and walked away, yelling "See you later, Gin!" over his shoulder.
Ginny couldn't help the small smile that fell across her face as she watched him make his way through the halls, hurrying to his next class. Neville was truly a wonder, so cheerful and optimistic still. He was a good friend. It just made her feel even guiltier for lying to him about Malfoy and her suspicions, and now she had lied to him again.
Ignoring the growing guilt, Ginny turned to walk in the opposite direction of her next class, knowing she couldn't sit through it. She hoped McGonagall would cover for her, almost positive the head of Gryffindor would. Ginny would have to answer questions the next time she saw her head of house, but she just could not sit through another forced class, everyone pretending Hogwarts was the same.
Instead she headed towards the library, hoping Luna would be there by chance.
Draco Malfoy was wandering the halls again, though this time it was the middle of the day. He probably should not be missing class. His father would be irritated if he heard, but Draco did not fear him. Draco did not fear many people these days, not even Snape. Thoughts of his old mentor made Draco's lip curl.
He had trusted Snape immensely when he was younger, perhaps even idolized the Potions Master. During his sixth year he had taken his frustrations and his fears out on the man, but Snape had forgiven him, as much as the man ever forgave anyone. Snape even appeared to like him and had invited Draco into the Headmaster's office the first week of school. Draco had been surprised at the invitation, but had gone. He wished he had not.
Snape had told him a secret that afternoon, a story from his past. Draco could clearly remember his surprise and then his outrage. When Snape had tried to warn Draco about his decisions, Draco had snapped. What he had been doing was not the same. He was not Snape; he was loyal to his family still. Snape had let him go then, but Draco had seen the fear in the man's eyes, fear that Draco would say something. Draco had not, and would never, but Snape's fear of exposure gave Draco a lot of freedom, freedom Draco needed. So he exploited it.
Thinking of Snape always put Draco in a foul mood. It was not that he hated the man for his decisions. In fact, it was just the opposite. Draco could completely understand Snape's actions and his reasons for those actions. And that scared Draco. What he had been doing, his one saving grace, was nothing compared to what Snape had done, but it was still treasonous. Draco had feared his father finding out about his little acts of kindness when he was younger, but now he feared Voldemort. That creature was unstable, and Draco feared what he would do if he caught wind of what Draco had done, had been doing since his third year.
His kindnesses hardly seemed noteworthy, but it did not take much for Voldemort to snap. If Voldemort found out about his interactions with Weasley…
"Draco!" a voice bellowed and interrupted Draco in the middle of his worrisome thought.
Draco turned, unimpressed and not the least bit thrilled to see Crabbe and Goyle ambling towards him. He did not hate the two boys, but that did not mean he enjoyed their company either. They had been decent friends, he supposed, or at least worthy goons, especially during the last year, but more and more this year, Draco was finding he did not have the patience to deal with them. He avoided them on principle.
"Draco what are you doing?" Goyle demanded, grinning stupidly as he and Crabbe stopped a few feet shy of where Draco was standing, his hands in his pockets and his face smoothed into a mask of blankness. "Don't you have class?"
"Don't you two?" Draco replied back, carelessly.
Crabbe grinned. "We're supposed to be monitoring classes right now, but that's a right load of rubbish. Who cares if McGonagall does something? She'll get caught, no doubt. Not like we can punish the old bat anyways."
"Wish we could," Goyle threw in. "I'd certainly like to punish Binns." He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
"Binns is a ghost, idiot," Draco sighed. "You couldn't physically harm him."
"Oh," Goyle appeared stunned at this news and Draco repressed the urge to sigh again. The boy recovered quickly, however, smiling again. "Well, still, it would be fun to be able to curse McGonagall, 'specially during this class. Bunch of Gryffs in there, now. Imagine their stupid little faces." Both of the goons began cracking up.
Draco felt a drop in his gut mixed with a sense of relief. He had not realized, or perhaps had forgotten, that Crabbe monitored Ginny Weasley's class with McGonagall. Even if he had known it before, it hardly seemed important. McGonagall would never let Crabbe do something to her students during class, helpless as the woman was to stop the detentions. Still, the thought now of Crabbe or Goyle anywhere near the youngest Weasley made Draco anxious, and that made him irritated.
"Well this has been fun," he snapped suddenly. "But I really must be going."
He turned and began to walk quite quickly away.
"Where ya going?" Crabbe called after him, sounding confused.
Draco ignored him.
"Wait, Draco," Goyle demanded. "We almost forgot. We heard something."
"What?" Draco yelled back, not stopping in his departure.
"Zabini told us something," Crabbe sounded as though he was struggling to remember the details. "Something about that Weasley bint."
That stopped Draco cold. He almost forgot to breathe as he registered Ginny's name coming out of Crabbe's mouth, and then he had to talk himself out of running back and grabbing Crabbe's robes while demanding answers and shaking him. Crabbe was much larger than him, for one, and it would seem extremely odd. So calmly, Draco turned and surveyed the two. "Oh?" he tried to inject apathy into his voice. "And what did Zabini have to say?"
Goyle shrugged. "He just said she had something of yours and was flashing it around. He said we should warn you."
Draco wanted to throttle Blaise Zabini in that moment. Of course the coward would not tell him directly. Blaise was not known for directness after all, but like most Slytherins, for cunning. He probably thought it was funny giving Crabbe and Goyle this information; information that, if they were smarter, they could use against Draco, and against Ginny Weasley as well.
"What's he mean?" Crabbe asked, looking confused again.
"Nothing of importance," Draco forced himself to look calm, though he itched to race off and find Weasley, and then shake some sense into the damn girl. He had no doubt Blaise was referring to the note with his handwriting on it, a note he had never thought Ginny would be stupid enough to show others. Clearly, he had overestimated the youngest Weasley. "You know how Zabini is, always likes to play games."
Crabbe and Goyle nodded stupidly, grinning like two fools. Draco felt disgust well up in his stomach at the sight. Without another word, he turned again and walked off, his pace quick and his mind thinking of where McGonagall's classroom was.
"What about your class?" one of the two idiots called after him, but Draco ignored them. They would write it off as more odd behavior, not uncommon for Draco these days. He had no doubt that they would soon forget the entire conversation, so long as Blaise did not give them anymore messages. He made a note to find Zabini later and shout at him, but first, Draco needed to find Ginny Weasley.