Luna was not in the library.
It had been obvious within five minutes of walking into the dead silent and completely empty room that Luna was not there. Even Madame Pince was gone, presumably taking her lunch break. Ginny had never really thought about when the staff ate, which had seemed odd to her. It was always odd, though, remembering that other people were truly alive and not just pieces of herself and her world.
For an obscene amount of time, Ginny had merely sat at a table and stared into the empty air in front of her. It was not as though she did not have much to think about. She thought of Ron and Harry and Hermione and wondered, for the millionth time, what they were doing and how she could help. This, of course, led her to think about her family. Her parents were in a constant state of worry, what with her father working at the ministry under constant surveillance. Her mother never said much about the details, afraid of worrying Ginny needlessly (in her words). There was also the fear of Ron's fake illness being discovered. Her other brothers were all itching to do something. Fred and George especially needed to do something without their shop to distract them. Ginny could relate.
It was hard being at war without being in a war. She lived in a twilight zone where everything appeared as it had been before, but underneath that, she knew the world was different. Like a giant secret, everyone just walked right over or around or through the war. They had to. Ginny had to. But she hated it.
The more time she spent at Hogwarts, the more restless she grew. Fighting back against the Carrows and Snape had helped, in the beginning, but now she could feel the unrest again, creeping back into her dreams and thoughts. The thing with Malfoy was her only distraction now, so it was no wonder she clung so quickly to it.
Shoving away from the table angrily at having thought of Malfoy yet again without having answers, Ginny stood up and went to the aisles. Maybe a book could distract her, though she doubted it. If what she really wanted was a distraction, she had plenty of homework to do. The war that was not a war was really affecting her grades, she thought cynically, and then wanted to hit herself for thinking it. The war might not feel real where she was trapped, but people were dying out there, muggles and muggleborns. She knew it, they all knew it, but again, it was not acknowledged out loud.
Ginny's fingers traced along the book spines with fondness as she meandered through the aisles. Despite her history with foreign books, diaries to be exact, Ginny did love them. Not to the degree Hermione did obviously but certainly, she liked them more than Ron or Harry did. She was honestly surprised they had even been in the library.
So distracted by her thoughts, Ginny had just paused with her finger on the spine of a book that had caught her eye, when she felt two hands clamp down on her shoulders and yank. Gasping, she sucked in a breath of air to scream but before she could, she was flipped around and one of the hands smashed down over her mouth. Pure terror overtook her for a moment, blinding her to where she was. Flashes of the Chamber overlaid her eyes, as they always did when she was afraid. The dank smell invaded her nostrils and it was like she could feel the giant snake sliding around her ankles. Ginny blinked away the memories, short of breath, and scrabbled to claw at the hand over her mouth. The person released her, hissing, and she spun around, ready to dual but she froze when she saw who it was.
Draco Malfoy stood inches from her looking for all the world like he wished to murder her.
Dark red scratches were beginning to leak blood as Draco stared at them in anger. He had not thought the Weasley girl would scratch him like a damned cat. It was a girly maneuver, and somehow, he had expected more from her. Of course, wasn't that the entire reason he was there? He had expected too much of Ginny Weasley on multiple accounts apparently.
Trying to tramp down on some of the anger boiling in his lungs, Draco looked up. He started slightly when he met her eyes, surprised by the raw fear he saw there. Her hair was slightly mused from their struggle and she was breathing rather hard, but it was her eyes that betrayed her. She had bright brown eyes normally, striking eyes even, but now they held shadows Draco had only ever seen once. They were the shadows that had haunted her eyes her first year at Hogwarts, and Draco would never forget that look. It was pure fear, and it struck him that he had caused the same reaction. A weird sensation travelled down his spine, and he lost his words at the disheveled sight of her, and his anger as well, but Ginny Weasley had clearly recovered.
"What the bloody hell, Malfoy?" she shouted, stepping forward and harshly shoving him.
He stumbled back, the imprint of her palms stinging on his chest, and his anger flared back to life. "What am I doing?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "What in Merlin's sake have you been doing? Are you suicidal?"
That seemed to confuse her, for Weasley stepped back, her eyes blinking stupidly at him. It only made him angrier, that this girl somehow, through everything she had gone through, could be so naïve still. He pressed his advantage, stepping closer and cornering her against the bookshelf. He wanted to be closer still, to be in her face as he demanded to know what the bloody hell she had been thinking.
"For what?" she challenged back, sidestepping him with her back against the books. "Yelling in the library? And I thought you were a scary Death Eater now."
Those two words leaving her mouth froze Draco to the core. His anger left, along with every thought and emotion. He became ice, as cold as he always was. Frozen. It was how he maintained control, and he needed that control now. He made sure not to reach for his forearm, not to fidget or look at it. He gave no outward indication that she had struck a sore spot, because, of course, she did not know it was a sore spot.
"No," he hissed, aware his eyes were probably hard as diamond when he glared at her. She held his eyes, but he did not miss the quiver of her lip. "But you are completely mad to be going about asking questions about me. Do you want to reschedule the detention, Weasley? Or better yet, do you want to be killed?"
She flushed, from what Draco would guess was a mixture of embarrassment, resentment, and defiance. "We wouldn't be killed for missing detention."
"No," Draco corrected, still whispering in an angry hiss. "I would not be killed, but I would still be punished, and you, well the Carrows would deal with you. Are you quite sure they would not kill you, Weasley? Because I am not."
He could tell his words had struck home, and he almost felt bad about it. He had not wanted to scare her so completely, but watching her face, he reasoned that it was perhaps the only way she would listen. Draco relaxed slightly, hopeful that this time she would listen. But again, he was too hopeful about Ginny Weasley.
Ginny's eyes narrowed suddenly, and a warning rang out in Draco's head. "How did you know I was asking questions?"
Draco stepped back, going on the defensive. "Did you think I wouldn't hear you were showing that note around?" he snapped, arms folding across his chest. "Really, Weasley, you haven't been careful about it." He had no idea why he sounded so defensive about it, as though he had done something wrong. It was foolish. She was the one being an idiot.
"Well if you had just told me what I wanted to know I wouldn't have had to go around asking," she snapped back, pressing her advantage with a step forward. Draco refused to retreat.
"And what does confirming that it's my handwriting do? Was I not clear enough yesterday, Weaslette? Of course it is my bloody handwriting!"
Ginny Weasley clamped her lips together and said nothing, glaring at him.
Draco wanted to run an irritated hand through his hair but fought the urge. He had already lost his temper twice with her, lost his icy exterior, and he needed that icy exterior. Whatever it was about Ginny Weasley that made him react so emotionally, he needed to get control of it. Or better, he needed to leave her alone. The next words out of her mouth though, made him forget all of that.
"If you had just told my why you didn't come to the detention, I wouldn't have had to ask Neville about his-"
Without thinking, Draco was pressing her back against the bookshelf, his face inches away from hers, and his mind in a downward spiral of fear. "You did what?" he demanded.
Ginny Weasley flung her hands up and pushed against his chest, but Draco did not budge an inch. He could see traces of fear on her face again, but this time she was glaring as well. "I asked Neville about his detention with you."
"Why?" Draco demanded. "Why would you do that and where did you ask? Please tell me you were not stupid enough to ask in the halls." But he had his answer as soon as he said it. Ginny blushed, bright red, and he knew. He wanted to throttle her in that moment, wanted to shake her and demand to know if she was aware of how much trouble he had gone through to protect her, to make sure she was happy or at least content. And now she was running about the halls asking dangerous questions in front of Merlin knows who. She must have a death wish, Draco thought harshly, and I must as well, for continuing this nonsense.
"No one was around when I asked Neville," she responded, hands still shoving at his chest. He could tell that she hated the way his arms caged her in, but he did not care. He hoped he was scaring her now. She needed to be scared. She needed to be as scared as he was. She needed to understand.
"And how do you know that?" he demanded. "How do you know for certain that nobody was around the corner listening? Obviously people were listening when you were flashing my note around. I heard about that, who else do you think heard about it?"
Her face flushed yet again, and Draco could only think about how open her face was, how easily she gave away what she was feeling and thinking. She could be broken so easily, cracked wide open to spill not only her secrets but his. She did not know it, but she had the power to decimate him. And he had been the fool who gave her that power. Draco had unwittingly handed Ginny Weasley the key to his very life.
"What do you want Malfoy?" she demanded, changing tactics and dropped her hands only to fold her arms. "Do you want me to apologize? To just drop my questions because you're too stubborn to answer? Well too damn bad. I deserve to know what the hell you're playing at."
Draco backed off and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving one short, frustrated laugh. "And isn't that the kicker?" he muttered mostly to himself. "For once, I'm not playing at anything."
"What's that mean?" Weasley looked suspicious again, standing there with hands on hips and robes open over her uniform. She should look ridiculous, like a little girl in her skirt and tie, but she did not. She looked demanding, fierce, like a force to be reckoned with.
Draco shot her a harsh look. "Nothing, Weasley. None of this is your business. I missed the detention because I did not feel like torturing you until you passed out, alright? Next time, I'll make sure to get over it."
"I don't believe you," she snapped.
"Yes, well I don't care," he shot back, childishly. He was feeling unbalanced again, and open. He was like a wounded animal out in the open, completely vulnerable, and it didn't matter that nobody else had realized how weak he was; he knew how weak he was, how weak Ginny Weasley had made him. He was half-crazed because of it.
"I didn't believe you before either," she continued, studying him with calm eyes and pursed lips. Distractedly, Draco noted that she still had light freckles sprinkled across her face. It made her look even more innocent and vulnerable. It made him anxious. "I have seen your handwriting before."
"Yes!" Draco yelled, throwing his hands up in complete irritation and forgoing every rational instinct in his body. "Yes you've seen my bloody handwriting before! What does that matter?"
Her eyes lit up like she had just won, and Draco wanted to hit himself. "Where?" She looked feverish, as curious as a Ravenclaw discovering a new subject. "Where have I seen your handwriting before? I tried to figure it out, tried for hours, but there's nowhere I can think of. Nowhere that makes sense."
Draco could feel the power shifting between them even now. She had already had all the power, had had it since he decided not to show up to that damned detention, but now she was becoming aware. She was gaining ground, getting answers, and Draco knew, just as he had known that night she had confronted him, that she would not stop until she got those answers. This was how he rationalized what he did next, but it was not the true reason. Truthfully, Draco blurted out those next words because he wanted to see her eyes darken with confusion, wanted to see her bite her lip as she puzzled it over.
And so Draco said, "In potions."
Just as expected Ginny Weasley took a step back and withdrew from him. He could see her revert back to inside her memories, trying to puzzle it out. Her eyes darkened and she bit her lip, just as he had predicted, and Draco hated himself for it.
"You've never been in my Potions class," Ginny stated, looking back up at him with the most open expression she had ever looked at him with. Her eyes were wide and honest, just looking for answers. Her lips were parted slightly, as though she would drink in the information he gave her. She was innocent, so innocent still, somehow, and Draco could not stand it.
Backing up, Draco shook his head, his earlier anger returning. "Forget it, Weasley." He was angry that she had not immediately understood, though he saw no reason she would. Of course she did not remember. But he was angrier with himself, and he could not pinpoint exactly why. "In fact, forget all of it. Do not ask anyone else about that note or so help me, I will find you and burn it myself. Do not ask Longbottom about his detention again, or I'll make sure to be assigned to your next one. And if you tell anyone I didn't show up to the first one," he paused and watched the open expression leave her face, telling himself he was glad it was leaving and ignoring the pain he felt as her eyes again became shadowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line. "If you tell anyone I didn't show up to your detention," he continued, voice a threatening whisper, "I'll kill you."
He did not wait to see what his last words would do to her face. He was suddenly certain watching her face fall into a hurt mask was the last thing he ever wanted to see. Draco simply spun on his heel and marched out of the library, ignoring the alarmed noise Madam Pince, who was clearly just returning, made as he brushed out the door past her. His confrontation with Ginny Weasley had gone nothing like he had planned. It had only made the shift in power between them more obvious to him. She unsettled him. Draco could no longer deny that fact. Whatever it was Ginny Weasley did when she spoke with him, some little tick or habit, it unsettled him down to his very core. He would not speak to her again, and if she spoke to anyone about him he would Crucio her, detention or not be damned. His interactions with her were over.
With that rather painful thought, Draco set his mind to a different target. He needed to find Blaise Zabini.
Finding Blaise proved tricky, however, as the dark-skinned Slytherin was not in the dorms or common room, as Draco had expected. It was only when Draco was standing in his own room that he remembered classes were still going on. In fact he had missed his last three classes of the day. He was hardly bothered, but the revelation at least told him where Zabini would be.
Draco was waiting outside of Transfigurations when the class emptied, and it was not hard to spot the tall head of Blaise Zabini. Blaise spotted him, as well, and the two held eyes, only breaking the staring contest when Draco jerked his head to indicate a side hallway. Blaise complied, changing his direction and leaving the girl he had been walking with without a second thought. She looked quite put out until she saw Draco heading toward Blaise; then her eyes widened in fear and she scampered off. Draco was glad that someone at least still feared him.
Blaise was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall, when Draco rounded the corner. Draco wanted to knock the quiet boy over when he noted his casual pose. It was childish however, an impulse left over from his argument with Weasley.
"You know it's strange that you missed Transfigurations, Draco," Blaise said casually, his voice devoid of inflection. "But not as strange as this rumor I heard about a Slytherin seventh year interrupting McGonagall's earlier Transfigurations class. Though I'll admit it's just as strange as hearing that a certain red-headed Gryffindor has that same Slytherin's handwriting on a note and is asking around about it."
In that moment Draco wanted to punch Blaise Zabini more than he had ever wanted to strike another person. He wondered, how in the name of Merlin, Blaise had already heard about his appearance in McGonagall's class when he had been searching for Weasley, but he refused to give the boy the satisfaction of asking. Instead, he focused on the later part of that sentence.
"Where did you hear about the note Zabini?"
Blaise smiled, and when he did Draco could admit that he knew why girls found Blaise Zabini so charming. His smile was not nice, not by any means. It spoke of secrets and destruction, and the person being destroyed might be you but it might be someone else. Blaise Zabini's smile promised adventure and danger and heartbreak. His smile was a risk but you wanted to take that risk. This was the smile he gave Draco now, the smile of knowing a secret without promising to keep it, no matter who the truth would hurt.
"From the fair redhead herself," his eyes danced and Draco stole quickly into his mask of ice, trying to keep from reacting at Blaise calling Ginny Weasley fair. It was the way he had said the phrase that bothered Draco, and judging by Zabini's widened smile, he knew how he had sounded and he also knew that it bothered Draco.
Draco sighed and promptly dropped the mask, which frankly never worked on Blaise anyway. Instead he fixed the boy with an irritated glare. "What exactly was she asking?"
"Don't fret Draco. She did not go so far as to ask directly if others recognized it as yours. But young Ginevra did show it to quite a few people and she asked if they recognized it. I could lie to you and say it was not a big deal, but well," Blaise shrugged carelessly. "Weasley was not exactly subtle or relaxed about it. Quite a few people walked away looking curious."
Draco wanted to bang his head against the stone wall. Did he need to teach Weasley how to act? Did he need to teach her fear? For Merlin's sake, the girl had no sense of self preservation. "I don't suppose you informed those curious students," Draco eyed Blaise suspiciously.
"Now Draco what kind of friend would I be if I went around diverging your secrets?"
"Exactly the kind of friend I always suspected you would be," Draco muttered, but nonetheless he was appeased by Zabini's answer. He was unsure still about the exact details of their newfound friendship, but whatever it was, it had begun at the beginning of this year. Whatever had changed within Draco since last year, Blaise Zabini could relate. Perhaps it was just that Blaise had no connection to Voldemort. More likely, it was the fact that Blaise was a coward, and since Draco now planned to run when he got the chance, he supposed that made him a coward too.
Blaise pulled away from the way and gave Draco a slap on the back. "Chin up, Malfoy. I'm sure nobody suspects your secret. I mean it is ludicrous. A Malfoy helping a Weasley for all those years, doing-"
Draco waved him off. "Yes, yes, alright. You gave me your opinion on the whole matter two years ago when you discovered what I'd been doing." He shot another irritated glance at Zabini and smacked Blaise's hand off of his back.
"Tsk, tsk." Blaise surveyed Draco and then that damned smile pulled at his face again. "You really did interrupt McGonagall's class earlier, didn't you? Don't tell me you were looking for Weasley, Draco."
Draco said nothing, installing his icy mask again. He had interrupted that class earlier, barging in. McGonagall had looked murderous, but she had asked if he was there to oversee it, as Crabbe was clearly not there. Draco had denied he was, claiming to have been looking for Crabbe himself when he saw that Weasley was not there. McGonagall had looked suspicious but Draco had paid her no mind, already trying to figure out where Weasley was when he had practically run out of the room.
Blaise chortled. "I knew my warning would make you antsy, Draco, but really what were you thinking?" Though Blaise still had a smile on his face and his tone had been joking, Draco could see the other boy analyzing him, figuring him out as though he was easy to understand. And that was the other thing about Blaise: he could always figure people out. Draco had never met someone as good at understanding people as Blaise Zabini. Now his eyes widened and Draco feared what Blaise had figured out, but the boy just raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Weasley has quite the effect on you, Draco, and I don't mean that in a good way. Missing detention was a major risk, for you and her."
"I warned her," Draco muttered. "I found her in the library and I threatened her, but she's still so bloody curious. I had no idea she would recognize my handwriting."
Blaise nodded along thoughtfully. "Yes I thought that was odd as well. Perhaps you made more of an impression than you thought you did. The girl is known to idolize her saviors."
"Do not compare me to Potter," Draco practically growled. "And if you give Crabbe and Goyle any information, no matter how vague, that could hurt me or Ginny, I'll hex that pretty face of yours until it isn't pretty any longer." The threat was genuine and had come out sounding like the promise it was. Draco completely meant what he said.
But instead of looking the least bit concerned, Blaise crossed his arms and really studied Draco. His smile fell off of his face, and his eyes darkened a bit.
"What?" Draco snapped, already on edge and done with Blaise's cunning and frankly annoying games.
"You called her Ginny."
"What?"
Blaise maintained his look of careful consideration, but Draco could detect a new emotion in his eyes: worry. "You called her Ginny," he repeated.
Draco opened his mouth to refute it, but closed it again almost immediately. He had called her Ginny. It was not the first time that Draco had found himself referring to her with her first name only, but it was certainly the first time he had ever said it out loud. Fear gripped his stomach and sudden nerves made his hands clammy. He had called her Ginny. He had called her Ginny. He had called her Ginny. Draco looked up at Blaise, worry on his own face, he knew.
Blaise simply looked back, his dark eyes calculating and uncomforting. "Be very careful, Malfoy." He gave Draco one last clap on the shoulder and then he left, sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling as he walked away.
Draco could only stand there, on the verge of something terrible.
Ginny was still standing in the library. Madame Pince had given her a very strange look when the woman had entered, but Ginny had hardly noticed. She was too busy trying to figure out Malfoy's strange clue.
In Potions. She could still hear his voice clearly in her head, and he had sounded strained as he said it, as though he had not wanted to say it at all. He had looked like he regretted it instantly as well, fearfully looking at her as though she would immediately remember. She hadn't, and Malfoy had left too quickly afterward for her to press her advantage.
Her hands were still shaking from the encounter, even as she stood thinking. The rush of adrenaline had not quite left, and Ginny bitterly realized she had enjoyed it. Aside from the black terror that had overwhelmed her at first, verbally sparring with Malfoy had been the most excitement she had experienced all year. It had truly felt as though she were doing something, even though all she was doing was arguing. She had no idea why it had felt so good to argue with him, to invade his personal space and have him invade hers. She knew it was probably not good that she wanted to seek him out again, for more than one reason, and yet she hardly cared. If she could do nothing for Harry, for her family, for this war, then she could do something for herself, something besides boosting student morale by serving detentions and smarting off.
His threats at the end were another story, and was Ginny not completely consumed with the mystery of his handwriting, she would probably be more worried about them. Malfoy had certainly sounded like he meant it, but Ginny could not waste time on his threats when he had given her a clue.
In Potions. The phrase repeated, and Ginny thought again over every Potions class from this year. Draco did not even monitor that class, Pansy Parkinson did. Ginny thought of the girl with distaste. Parkinson hated her, had always hated her for some unknown reason, but the hatred had only increased when Pansy had realized Ginny was good in Potions. And Ginny was very good in Potions, great even. Snape tolerated her and even complimented her on occasion, an almost unheard of feat. Ginny just wanted to tell the spiteful Slytherin girl that it was not her fault she was good at Potions. It was just luck.
She had always been alright at the subject, better than Charlie or Ron. She thanked the twins for her knowledge of Potions mostly, what with their sweets and all. But truly it had not been until Ginny's second year that she had become great at the subject, and that had only been because…
Ginny gasped. She knew where she had seen Malfoy's handwriting before. Without another thought, Ginny tore out of the library, all out sprinting toward Gryffindor tower. She still had them; she knew she did. It had seemed silly to keep them at first, but Ginny had been unable to part with them. And now she was glad she had kept them, because she was certain they held all the answers. She just couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before.