A Summer to Remember by KaleidoscopeEyes

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 31/12/2004
Last Updated: 16/01/2005
Status: In Progress

Ginny's back at Grimmauld Place for the summer, where her mother, who's trying to
protect her, is withholding information she desperately wants. Narcissa Malfoy, meanwhile, is up to
no good and wants Draco out of her way, so she's shipped him off to Snape. Our favorite
professor, left choiceless in the matter, consulted with Dumbledore about the dangers of this
arrangement. Knowing that a close watch would need to be kept on the young Slytherin, the
Headmaster decided that it would be best if Draco spent the summer...where else?...at Grimmauld
Place.




1. From Bad to Worse
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A Summer to Remember

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*Part One, chronologically, of what will most certainly have a sequel and probably be a trilogy.
I'll tell you now that you'll really be able to start with part one or part two (which will
be called A Summer Forgotten), but as I haven't written part two yet this is what you're
stuck with. Part three, I'm afraid, you'll just have to read last, but that's when
I'll post it, so it'll all work out. This story, suffice to say, is elaborately planned
out…and I've even written *****gasp* a PLOT OUTLINE! Not my usual style, but it sure makes
writing a whole heck of a lot easier, I've found. This seems to be coming along quite quickly;
I'm very proud of it. Other chapters are in the works, and progressing quite rapidly. So far.
When school comes back, that might not be the case…so please don't freak out at me or something
if a chapter isn't up as soon as you'd like.

A bit about the story: it's D/G, as you probably should have already figured out. I'm
sure I'll manage to throw some minor R/Hr in here (but if that's not your cup of tea,
don't worry, it'll only be a mentions of if at all, so I'll edit it out for the story I
post on portkey.org), and there will be at least mentions somewhere within this trilogy of SS/OC
(who has basis in canon). This part, here, takes place two weeks after the beginning of the summer
holidays up until the last day…Draco will be in his sixth year and Ginny her fifth upon their
return to Hogwarts. And that, I think, is all you really need to know…so on with the story!

Oh, and in the future, I promise to keep my A/Ns shorter…sorry…

Disclaimer: I renounce all ownership of everything except the plot. We all know the rest belongs
to J.K.

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From Bad to Worse

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Ginny Weasley carefully unthreaded the only remaining button on one of her - well, one of
Percy's, really - old shirts. Buttonless, the plaid, threadbare rag hung loosely on her petite
frame. It gaped open in the front without anything to hold it together. Ginny thought this was
rather unbecoming, as it revealed the giant hole near the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. So
Ginny stuck the button between her teeth, twisted the two ends of the t-shirt into a knot, and
decided that even though the bottom of it didn't pass her bellybutton, her outfit was less of
an eyesore now than when that awful tear was visible.

Of course, her outfit wasn't exactly her top priority at the moment. Flickering her eyes
upward, Ginny directed her gaze toward the kitchen, where she was sure a meeting was being held.
The only question was whether or not the Extendable Ears would be of any use to her. She doubted
it; her mum had been very consistent with her use of an Imperturbable Charm to prevent her from
eavesdropping. Ginny was getting quite fed up with it. It wasn't as if keeping information from
her qualified as protecting her!

`Not that I need that,' Ginny thought furiously. All she needed were answers, and Ginny felt
that she deserved them. Hadn't she been right there with everyone else in the Ministry that
night, too? She'd seen enough, been through enough that she should be entitled to a share of
knowledge, too. Not to mention that besides all that, she'd had to deal with all that business
in first year, too…Ginny shuddered, abruptly tearing her thoughts from a place she tried very hard
not to let them drift.

But here she was, leaning over the hallway banister, alone, the baby, while they were all
allowed - albeit reluctantly - to know every little thing. And no matter how much she prodded them
(Ron, Hermione, and even Harry, who had been there for a week already), they wouldn't say a
word about what went on in the meetings. “Don't you remember how you felt last summer?” Ginny
had screamed, red-faced and exasperated, at Harry.

“Look, I don't really want to talk about it…too much depressing stuff,” he'd told her
tiredly, shaking his head. “You don't want to hear it, anyway, trust me; you think you do, but
you don't. C'mon, forget about it - you want to play chess or something?” He gave her a
little lopsided grin, and she supposed it was meant to be encouraging or something, but it only
made her all the more irritated.

No, thank you very much, she did not want to play chess. She wanted to know something, anything,
no matter how depressing. So every day, like clockwork, she bent over the balustrade, Extendable
Ear at the ready, and tested for an Imperturbable Charm.

Ginny removed the button from her mouth, wiped it off a bit on her pant leg, and, holding it up
to the light, gave it a long look. “Too bad I'm out of Dungbombs…they worked so much better,”
she muttered. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent the button flying toward the kitchen door.
It arched upwards and began to fall, slowly, towards the ground…

…But every day, like clockwork, whatever she threw was deflected, and she knew her test was
positive.

“Urrrggggg!” Ginny groaned in frustration, letting out all the breath she'd been holding. It
wasn't as if she'd been expecting her mother to forget to do the Charm, but it still
angered her to no end. Why did they insist on babying her? She felt so utterly worthless…a war was
going on, and the only thing they would let her do was get the doxies out of the curtains! In the
two weeks she'd been there she'd spent just about every waking hour snooping about and
pumping anyone she ran into for information, and the only thing she had was “Snape, mumble mumble,
real problem, mumble, a Death Eater in the house!” And though this was suspicious, it wasn't a
whole lot to show for her relentless search for information.

`I'd make a lousy spy,' Ginny thought as she kicked the railing. They always shut her
out of those meetings, and covered every base to keep her from knowing what went on in them.
Naturally, the more she thought about it, the more infuriated she became, and it threw her into a
towering rage. It was the same situation with every meeting. Normally Ginny went somewhere quiet to
fume, but today she felt like making a scene.

Down the staircase she pounded, giving each individual step a good, solid thump. The banister
even shook as Ginny made her noisy descent. She didn't say anything, though; she'd spent
all summer screaming, and had only just recovered her voice. Instead, she marched over to Mrs.
Black's portrait, yanked the curtains open, and satisfied herself by kicking everything in
sight.

The commotion Ginny was making did not go unnoticed by Mrs. Black, and it provoked the portrait
into adding to the racket. She broke into an ear-splitting diatribe about how her house had been
defiled, and Ginny hoped it was loud enough that the members of the Order couldn't even hear
themselves think.

Violence was one of the best outlets for anger, Ginny thought, as she shattered a vase. She was
sure she'd be in loads of trouble later, but Ginny didn't care…she was a true redhead:
hotheaded and impulse driven. The consequences of her actions were the furthest thing from her mind
at the moment. Right now, Ginny just needed to vent.

Her foot connected with an elaborately decorated bucket filled with, among other things,
sinister looking umbrellas. The container flew across the room and hit the wall with a metallic
clunk, spilling its contents onto the floor. One of the umbrellas had a handle that looked
disturbingly like a dead bowtruckle, while another had been intricately carved into a very lifelike
image of a snake. Ginny promptly smashed its head, and it splintered into thousands of tiny
fragments.

But the scattered pieces did not stay scattered for long. As if drawn together by some invisible
force, the bits of wood pulled back together to reform the serpent. Restored to its previous
malevolent glory, the snake bore no mark of its recent encounter with the bottom of Ginny's
shoe. Its eyes seemed to gleam wickedly (this Ginny probably imagined; she hated snakes, and to her
even the shoe button eyes of a stuffed one would seem to be gleaming wickedly) out of its wooden
head. Ginny took this look as a challenge, and crushed it again.

Time and time again the snake magically repaired itself, but Ginny, who was taking pleasure in
her brutality, continued to pummel it. After awhile it quit resembling a serpent to her, as she
began to picture her mother and all the other members of the order in its place. They positively
enraged her! They absolutely overwhelmed her with fury! She could stand having to spend her summer
in a moldering old house filled with dark objects, she could put up with her decontamination
responsibilities, but it couldn't get any worse than the not knowing!

She was livid, and as her mood grew darker, so did the corridor. But the shadow that loomed over
her was not just a byproduct of her rage.

Ginny had become so engrossed in beating the snake to a wooden pulp that she hadn't noticed
that someone had entered Grimmauld Place. Suddenly aware of their overbearing presence, she froze
mid-stomp, and slowly raised her eyes.

Of course. Of all the people who could have caught her wrecking the hallway, it had to be
Professor Snape. Ginny stared at him wide-eyed in disbelief. How could her luck be this bad?

“Miss Weasley,” he drawled, looking down his greasy nose at her with his surliest expression on
his face. “Determined as you seem to be to destroy that umbrella, I must inform you that your
efforts are wasted. Perhaps you are blinded by your irrepressible stubbornness, but you have
clearly failed to notice that there is a very strong anti-breaking charm on the object beneath your
shoe,” he said silkily. “If you could call that tattered thing on your foot a shoe,” he amended,
giving her - well, George's really - sneaker a disdainful look.

Realizing that she hadn't moved a muscle since she first noticed Snape, Ginny quickly
switched to a normal standing position. “You'd be incorrect in that assumption. I was perfectly
well aware that there was an anti-breaking charm on it,” she answered primly, completely ignoring
his last remark.

Looking unconvinced, he merely raised an eyebrow.

Ginny threw up her hands. “Look, obviously I tore up the room. But, contrary to what it might
look like, my primary objective wasn't to break everything in sight.” Ginny surveyed the
wreckage around her. She grimaced; it looked like a niffler had been let loose in there. Ginny
briefly considered asking Snape to magic the mess away for her, but then thought better of it.

“Could have fooled me,” he muttered, turning away from her and heading back towards the door he
had entered in. For some reason, he always let her off the hook after only a couple gibes. Ginny
figured he probably held some sort of grudging respect for her because she was exceptional at
potion making.

“What the bloody hell happened here?” a familiar voice asked as the door shut behind him. Ginny
immediately turned her attention to the doorway, which framed the most terrible addition to her
nightmare thus far.

Draco Malfoy! What the bloody hell happened here, indeed.

Then something clicked into place in her brain. Snape, who was leading a Malfoy right into their
headquarters, was obviously the Death Eater she'd heard mentioned. She turned on the greasy
git.

“You are a complete idiot!” she snarled. “This is Malfoy! He supports You-Know-Who! And you, you
just led him right into our headquarters! You've betrayed our secrets to the enemy! You've
- AAAGH!” Ginny cried as Snape grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, not hard, but enough to
get her to cease her fanatical prattling, her accusatory finger still poking his chest.

“Calm down, you blithering ninny,” he instructed, releasing his grip on her shoulders.

Ginny made only a mild attempt to do so. Still breathing heavily, she gritted out, “Explain.
Yourself.”

“You are aware that my role in the Order requires me to associate with the…opposition, are you
not, Miss Weasley?”

“I wasn't aware that it required you to invite them over to our base of operations!” Ginny
snapped.

“It does if I don't want to betray myself as a double agent,” Snape responded coolly.
“Narcissa Malfoy expressly asked me to take Draco off her hands for the summer…”

For the summer? As in the whole summer? As in the entire month and a half left before they
returned to Hogwarts? “What?” Ginny shrieked, horrified.

“Yes, I'm afraid that Mr. Malfoy will staying here for the remainder of the summer,” Snape
affirmed, and Ginny felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“As I was saying, Mrs. Malfoy apparently has some `big plans,'” Snape continued
contemptuously, “and felt she needed Draco out of the way to get on with them. You can see my
predicament, of course,” he explained. “If I refused to aid a…fellow…Death Eater it would arouse
suspicion, but young Mr. Malfoy would surely figure out my secret if he were to stay with me. I
discussed the situation with Dumbledore, and the old man told me to bring the boy here, where many
close eyes will be kept on him. Naturally, Malfoy's memory will have to be modified at the end
of his stay. Undesirable as it is, it's the only solution.”

Ginny glanced over at Malfoy, who looked like he had a Blast-Ended Skrewt up his arse about the
whole thing. Well, of course he did: his mum had kicked him out of what was probably some Death
Eater convention and unknowingly sent him to spend a month with the enemy! She supposed he himself
must not be a Death Eater yet, but she realized: “Moody must have been talking about him when I
overheard him say there'd be a Death Eater here!”

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Snape sneered.

Well, she'd been trying. “Not as effectively as I would have liked!” Ginny answered.

“Not as effectively as you would have liked?” Snape repeated.

“It's really hard to listen in on conversations in this place. That's the only thing
I've actually managed to overhear,” Ginny admitted, bitterly. And if that wasn't bad
enough, her miserable summer had worsened severely in just the past ten minutes. She didn't
dare think that it couldn't get any worse than this, though, for fear that it would.

Eying Malfoy distastefully, Ginny realized that maybe he was worse off than she. He was being
denied all the information he wanted, too. His father was in Azkaban, his mother was busy plotting
and preventing him from joining in on any of the fun, and he had to live with the Order of the
Phoenix…things couldn't get much worse than that.

If you were evil.

As if he sensed her look, Draco glanced toward Ginny, and met her gaze with his hooded one. His
gray eyes were cold and spiteful, and she was fairly certain she saw his nostrils twitch in fear
(she doubted he would ever forgive her for the Bat-Bogey Curse she'd hit him with at the end of
the year). Just for good measure, he looked her up and down, slowly, in a way that would have
unsettled any other girl.

And bless him, as displeased with his current position as he must have been, Draco Malfoy could
still smirk.

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to Snape, fixing him with a pointed look. “Well?” she
asked, folding her arms and bracing herself for a cutting comment about her lackluster spying
skills.

If that's what she was expecting, Snape would end up disappointing her. “Well, Miss Weasley,
if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. Why don't I leave you two here to…catch
up?” he drawled.

Catch up? Now that was certainly an unattractive prospect.

“Oh, and why don't you give Mr. Malfoy the tour? After all, he will be staying here for
quite a while…”

And with that, Professor Snape turned on his heal and strode out of the hallway, his cloak
billowing behind him. The door swung closed after him with an audible click that echoed through the
corridor, leaving Draco and Ginny very much alone.

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Fin de capitulo uno. Please review, I love feedback! And I can't believe I actually put a
Bierce reference in here…anybody catch that?

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2. Confrontations
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A Summer to Remember

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A/N: Chapter two already! Hey, that didn't take too long, did it? I'm quick little
writer…that's why they call me Speedy Gonzalez! Well, okay, it's actually because I run
fast, but I now see that particular nickname can be applied to more than just that.

Disclaimer: You know it's not mine, save for that plot. All other credit duly given to J.K.
Rowling.

Also, many, MANY thanks to my wonderful new beta Red (The Lovely Lioness)!

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Chapter 2: Confrontations

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Draco and Ginny were completely alone. They hadn't moved since Snape had left (though that
was only a moment ago), as they had no desire to lessen the distance between themselves. Ginny was
watching Draco with a horrorstruck look on her face, while Draco stared unflinchingly back, his
features contorted into an expression of revulsion. They stood in silence.

“…filthy Muggle-lovers, contaminating my noble house! Besmirching it, tainting it…”

Well, save for the ranting of Mrs. Black, who had yet to shut up.

The hallway door suddenly swung open to reveal Mrs. Weasley, her face as red as her hair. “What
on earth is that ungodly noise?” she demanded angrily of Ginny. “You know full well that we are
trying to have a meeting right now!”

“Oh, gee, you know, I actually forgot about that,” Ginny replied saccharinely. “It's not
like I go to those meetings; sometimes the scheduling slips my mind, you see,” she said in a tone
that sounded equal parts flaky and insolent. “I'm so sorry to have disturbed you,” she
apologized, or rather didn't apologize, sending her mother a very fake, doe-eyed look of
innocence.

But Mrs. Weasley was now surveying the disarray Ginny had thrown the room into, and she looked
even angrier than she had when she first opened the door. “What have you done in here?!” she
yelled, looking murderous.

The object of her rage ought to have been inspired with terror. Ginny, however, was a master at
keeping her composure in that right. She could most definitely hold her own.

“Well, first I opened the curtains to Mrs. Black's portrait - I wanted her to make a fuss,
you see - and then, I think I headed for those shelves…yeah, and I wiped everything off of them,
and kicked the stuff around a bit. And you see those shards of glass over there? It's really
unfortunate, I threw a vase against the wall and it broke! Who would've thought?”

Ginny felt a sinister pleasure in seeing that her mother looked deadly. It filled her with a
sense of accomplishment.

“You will clean up this mess this instant, Ginevra Molly Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, using
the dreaded *full* name. She advanced on her daughter, pointing an accusatory finger. “Oh, are
you ever in trouble! You had better get to it *right now*, don't just stand there! And
what have you done with your shirt? Honestly, wear it decently…”

Ginny flinched, and suddenly was very aware of the fact that her midriff was quite naked. She
didn't untie her shirt, however, for Draco Malfoy was still there, and the pitiful hole the
knot was hiding would only be more ammo for him.

Ugh, Malfoy…and she still had to give him “the tour,” didn't she? Well, despite the fact
that Snape had told her to, she hadn't actually intended to. But now, with her mother seething
not more than two centimeters away from her, the prospect had become much more appealing.

Ginny worried her lip between her teeth as she weighed her options. She'd have to face the
ferret sooner or later, she figured, and decided it might as well be sooner, when she had things
just as bad to face, than later.

So she grabbed Malfoy by the arm and dragged him along, saying, “As much as I'd love to
clean this all up, Professor Snape told me I had to give Malfoy here the tour, and you know, I
really must do that right now,” as she swept swiftly past her mother and out of the room.

Ginny steered them safely away down a darkened corridor, but they hadn't gotten very far
before Draco shoved her roughly away.

“Get your grubby hands off of me!” he spat, his detestation of her clearly written across his
face. “Ugh, now I've got Weasley germs all over me,” he muttered disgustedly, maneuvering his
arm so that he could inspect it.

“Oh, I'm sorry, have I besmirched your skin? Have I tainted it with the touch of my
Muggle-loving hand?” she asked mockingly, borrowing a few of Mrs. Black's favorite phrases.

“Why, yes, you have,” he sneered, “but look what else you managed to do!” He turned his arm so
that she could clearly see the glaring red imprint her hand had left. Something about the way that
each of her fingers was distinctly visible, and the way that the red mark contrasted with his pale
skin almost made her feel guilty. Only almost, of course.

“I'm terribly sorry,” Ginny replied without conviction, rolling her eyes.

Draco's glare intensified, and he opened his mouth to say something rude, no doubt, but
Ginny cut him off.

“I wouldn't figure you to go and throw a fit over a mark on your arm, though,” she remarked,
looking pointedly at the spot she'd grabbed him…on his left arm, precisely where another mark
would probably soon be appearing.

“Excuse me?” he snarled.

“I just don't see the big deal,” she said undauntedly, shrugging. “That little spot'll
fade, for one thing. And besides, I was under the impression that you were planning to put a
different, permanent mark there,” Ginny finished incisively.

A new look came into Draco's eyes; they seemed to brighten from cloudy gray to lucid silver.
It didn't take Ginny long to figure out that this new look was anger. He advanced on her
slowly, until she could actually feel his breath, soft and even, on her skin. It made the hair at
the base of her neck prickle.

“If I am,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper, “I don't think it's any of your
business.”

With this, it was quite obvious that the subject had best be closed, but Draco glared fiercely
at Ginny, as though daring her to say something more. Ginny of course picked up on this, and being
a Gryffindor and a Weasley, she was not the sort to back down from a challenge.

“Oh, but Malfoy, we're housemates!” she said, her words full of mock enthusiasm. “And there
are no secrets in the house.”

Draco gave a derisive snort. “Aren't there?” he asked, sounding amused. “Remind me then…why
exactly were you destroying that room just now?”

Ginny's face fell abruptly. “Okay, so maybe there are secrets in the house,” she said
darkly. “My mum won't tell me a bloody thing about…well, a bloody thing…but from the sound of
it you're in the same boat, so don't get cheeky with me about it.”

Draco decided to comply, and not be cheeky about the matter. Instead, he thought he would be
cheeky about (one of his favorite subjects to insult) Ginny's mother in general. “Speaking of
your mum, you know, I knew she was rather…rotund,” here he paused to let out a sharp, derisive
laugh, “but every time I see her she looks even dumpier.” Ginny looked nearly unmoved (she had only
flushed a bit pink), so he plowed ahead, searching for a more painful barb. “And what in the name
of Merlin was she wearing? What did she do…knit together what was left over after your litter of
brothers was done with their robes?”

“No,” Ginny snapped, her fists clenched tightly at her side, “I got those.”

“Did you?” Draco asked softly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “And what about
the rags you've got on now? Must be hard having all your clothing come from a load of boys…it
clearly doesn't fit you properly.” He moved even closer, and Ginny felt a surge of discomfort
course through her veins. “Love what you've managed to do with it, though,” he breathed
sardonically, as he reached one pale hand forward and grasped the knot Ginny had made, his cool
knuckles brushing against her bare stomach.

Ginny recoiled at the touch and backed quickly away. “Do you have a problem with respecting
personal space?” she hissed.

“No,” he drawled musingly, “but I do have a problem with respect. I have a lack of it…in
particular, for you.”

“How touching. You'll be glad to know that I haven't a shred of respect for you,
either,” Ginny spat viciously.

“Yes, well, your opinion isn't really worth much, is it, Weasley?” Draco's eyes locked
directly with hers, cold and calculating. “As for me, on the other hand…the name Malfoy commands
respect in the wizarding world. From those in a decent position, of course…dirt poor, ridiculously
large, Muggle-loving families like yours, I'm afraid, are quite insignificant.”

Ginny's face had turned a furious red, which quite matched her furious demeanor. “For your
information, Malfoy,” she growled, nearly foaming at the mouth, “families like mine have a lot more
power and a lot more sway than you might realize. In case you hadn't noticed, we've got a
war going on at the moment, and here on the other side the name Weasley is very prominent. And as
for the name of Malfoy…well, I think that it was suitably sullied not too long ago. You know, when
news of your father's recent trip to Azkaban was published,” she bit out scathingly.

“When I say the name Malfoy is foremost in the right places, I'm not necessarily including
the Ministry and all that rubbish, though I daresay our reputation there hasn't faded too
much,” Draco sneered with such chilling certainty that it sent shivers down Ginny's spine.
“What I mean is that when this war is over, the prestige of the Malfoys is going to soar to even
greater heights. You know why? Because once this war is over, Weasley, we'll have won.”

“Oh, decided to renounce the Dark Lord, have you?” Ginny asked flippantly, quickly dispelling
the fear that had suddenly crept into her mind: the fear that Malfoy might actually be right.

“Very funny, Weasley,” Draco remarked dryly, and laughed, a hollow, bitter laugh. “No, you know
very well where my loyalties lie. But you know what, I'll tell you what I told Potter,” he
drawled, drawing in a hissing breath between his teeth, “you've chosen the losing side. It was
only by luck that the Dark Lord was defeated last time, and now he's stronger than ever.
You've got no chance.”

Ginny forced herself to swallow in spite of the lump that had formed in her throat. “There's
always a chance,” she said bravely, feeling more hopeless in that moment than she ought to have,
since she knew perfectly well the side she was on had quite a good chance.

Draco wrinkled his nose disgustedly at her words. “You're such a Gryffindor,” he said
contemptuously, as though that were supposed to be a bad thing. “You always think you're so
noble, so right…”

“*You're* such a Slytherin!” Ginny shot back heatedly. “You don't even stop to
consider what *is* right!”

Draco fixed his eyes on her, studying her coolly. “There's nothing to consider,” he said
simply, calmly.

It was the kind of reaction Ginny would have imagined, but upon hearing those words she
couldn't keep her eyes from bugging out in surprise. “Nothing to consider?!” she repeated
loudly and incredulously, taken aback. “How can you not even think about something so important?
Ugh, it's what I'd expect from you, though…can't even think for yourself, that's
clear enough! `Father says' this, `father says' that; you're just like him!” Ginny
seethed venomously. After the words had left her mouth, however, she couldn't help but feel
like what she'd just said would seem a compliment to him.

Oddly enough, Draco actually looked -could it be? - offended! “You don't know the first
thing about me or my father,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “He may be one of the few
people I actually have a high regard for, but I am *not* my father.”

Ginny looked at him quizzically. Merlin, who did the boy think he was kidding? Yet funnily
enough she almost felt like she could relate to him in that respect; having six brothers, she knew
quite well the symptoms of an identity crisis. This didn't soften her feelings toward him one
bit, though. “Open your eyes, Malfoy!” she retorted scornfully. “Your father is directly
responsible for every bit of who you are. And,” she pointed out virulently, “believe me, I know
*exactly* what kind of a person your father is. He's a ruthless, heartless, evil person; a
pitiful excuse for a wizard and a worthless human being, that's what he is!”

Draco fixed her with yet another hard look; he seemed to be considering her. “Do you hate him?”
he asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Ginny snarled with startling intensity.

In response Draco raised his pale eyebrows and allowed his smirk to become more pronounced.
“Hate is a strong word, Weasley,” he said quietly.

“It's no less than what he deserves!” Ginny cried. “And, really, don't you think that
hate is something that your dear father is oh, I dunno, intimately familiar with? It's the
driving force behind him; it's what carries him through the day and gets him through the night,
I bet! Only people who don't know about anything but hate can be like him…and you, too!”

“Clearly there's more to whatever it is you're going on about than I know,” Draco said
sneeringly, “and certainly I don't have anything to do with it.”

“Don't play dumb, Malfoy,” Ginny snapped. “Everyone at Hogwarts knows about what happened to
me in first year, and I'd wager you'd know more, what with your father's involvement in
it.” Drawing in a shaky breath she continued, “And don't tell me you weren't disappointed
to find that I survived that whole ordeal! That's why you're nothing more than a spiteful,
hateful monster, nothing more than your father! Because you just live on hate, and find joy in
other people's pain, and think it'd have been better if I was lying dead, rotting in the
Chamber, because wasn't that the plan?”

Without another word, Ginny stormed out of the room, feeling that she'd left him with
something to think about. She had, of course, but that didn't mean that Draco would so much as
consider what she'd said. Numerous people had rationally contradicted his beliefs before, but
Draco wasn't about to let logic interfere with his way of thinking. He was so sure of his
values; he felt their truth right to his very core! Never had he questioned them or doubted them,
not even for a fleeting instant.

What Draco Malfoy believed had been thoroughly ingrained in him by his father, formed into a
solid, indestructible wall that mere words wouldn't even scratch the surface of. So yes, Ginny
Weasley had left him with something to think about. But he wouldn't think about it. He would,
instead, tuck her comments away in the deepest recesses of his mind, deliberately ignoring
them.

It would take a much stronger catlyst than the angry, passionate, truthful insults Ginny hurled
to make Draco Malfoy reconsider his standards. After all, Draco Malfoy never reconsidered anything
at all.

~*~-------------------------------------------~*~

Sorry about all the fighting…but it was kind of unavoidable. I really wanted them to have a
civilized conversation, but at this stage I know it's not even a possibility. They really
needed to have a good go at each other, not only to clear things up but also because they hate each
other and weren't about to have a pleasant little chat. Besides, Ginny was already in a
fighting mood…but after a bit things will start to calm down.

Anyhow, there's chapter two, so you know what to do: review! (That all kind of rhymed,
didn't it? Amazing.)

Also, many thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 1:

**Anonymous:** It will get longer as I add more chapters. And, er, you only have to hit the
submit button once, you know…

**emvee:** Thanks! I'm trying very hard to keep everyone's characterization as close
to canon as possible…hopefully you like Draco's, too!

**reemy:** Thank you…yep, I'm keeping to my word: here is the update that I promised, and
it's come pretty soon. I appreciate the constructive criticism about Snape, too…I guess I was a
tad off on his characterization, because another person told me he seemed a bit OOC, too. Now that
you mention it, that comment does seem like something Malfoy would say…or any Slytherin for that
matter, though, but Snape is a bit grown up to say something like that.

**Remus' sweetie:** You're the first person to pick up on the Bierce thing! Yay…I was
beginning to think that no one would notice that! Good job! :) And thanks for the review!

-->



3. Futile Attempts at Civility
------------------------------



**Chapter 3: Futile Attempts at Civility**

**~*~**

**Disclaimer:** Oh, you know the only thing I own of this is the plot. There, I admit it. The
rest belongs to the lovely J.K., of course!

----------------------------

**A/N:** Firstly, a thanks to my wonderful beta!

Now…well, it has been a little while…longer than I expected, but the wait isn't the only
thing longer than expected: the chapter is, too! So there's your compensation! Seriously, this
is the longest chapter that I've ever written, and it's also the first that completely
ignored me to when I told it to hurry up and get finished, already! It was content to drag on for
twelve full pages…and for me, that's a lot. I'm so proud of this accomplishment!

**~*~**

Ginny bounded noisily up the stairs, though she was not, for once, being intentionally loud; she
herself didn't want to be disturbed. She was sick of fighting, sick of yelling herself hoarse,
and sick of this wretched summer! Between what she had to put up with from the Order *and*
Malfoy, Ginny was all set to go back to Hogwarts and would happily face her stressful O.W.L. year.
But the furthest away from this whole mess she could get at the moment was the solitude of the room
she shared with Hermione. She sighed thankfully as she reached the door, and put her hand on the
handle to open it…

…And promptly snatched her hand back, remembering that she couldn't go in there. Unless, of
course, she wanted to her nostrils to be assailed by the pungent smell of decay. A rather large
bindimun had holed itself up in there yesterday; she had gone into a room further down the corridor
to decontaminate it and the thing had taken off, later to be discovered in her room.

Annoyed, she reset her course for Harry and Ron's room and upon reaching it yanked the door
open. She barely took a step forward before she flopped face-first onto the bright orange Chudley
Cannons comforter spread over Ron's bed.

She felt absolutely spent after the argument she'd just had with Malfoy. Suddenly realizing
that she'd forsaken the Slytherin on his “tour,” she sniggered meanly. She'd led him down
one of the house's lesser-used passages, so she figured it would probably be awhile before
either someone found him or he found his way back. Although she hadn't taken him very far, she
had managed to make a number of turns along the way.

Ginny toyed with a loose string on the bedspread, and vaguely hoped that Draco managed to
stumble into a room full of doxies or something else even more unpleasant.

Rolling onto her back, Ginny groaned, “Ugh, this sucks,” in reference to her entire situation.
There were two soft thuds as she expertly slipped off her sneakers without even bothering to untie
them, and they dropped to the floor. She closed her eyes and the sea of orange surrounding her
disappeared, replaced by the soothing blankness of the backs of her eyelids. Sliding the tips of
her sock-clad feet back and forth over the smooth wood floor, Ginny hummed the Weird Sisters'
latest tune and tried to clear her mind.

“This isn't your room,” a snide voice cut into her thoughts (or lack thereof), and for a
brief, terrible moment Ginny thought it was Malfoy. Startled, her eyes flew open, but she quickly
realized that nobody had entered the room. She propped herself up on her elbow so as to get a
better look about, scanning the room for an intruder. She saw there was no one else in there but
herself, and was confused as to where the noise had come from until her gaze fell upon a portrait
of a pointy bearded man on the wall.

“Oh who *cares*?” she asked in a long-suffering tone. “Can't I go anywhere without
someone getting snippy?”

“I was merely saying,” he returned lazily, “and if anyone's getting snippy it sounds like it
is *you*.”

Ginny, after glaring at the portrait, allowed the arm supporting her to give way and collapsed
onto the bed yet again. “Just leave me be!” she demanded irritably.

“I'd be more than happy to,” the man said, turning up his nose at her. “I have no interest
in speaking to silly little girls - ”

Sitting bolt upright at this remark, Ginny interrupted snappishly, “I'm not silly or a
little girl!”

“Rather snippy though, aren't you?” he inquired sarcastically.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at the man, who she noticed was decked out in green and silver. It would
figure he was wearing *those* colors, wouldn't it?

“Could you tell me,” she asked, annoyed, “whether Slytherins are capable of having a civilized
conversation?”

The man in the portrait bristled, looking highly affronted. “As Slytherin is the most civilized
of the four houses, I should say so!” he proclaimed, though he did not look at her but instead
inspected his silken-gloved hand.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “If by `civilized' you mean `full of themselves,' then sure,” she
muttered dryly under her breath. More loudly, she said, “Why is it, then, that every time I try to
talk to one I end up getting in a row with them?”

The man looked at her now with mild distaste. “You must be a Gryffindor,” he sneered
matter-of-factly.

“Well, yeah!” Ginny exclaimed defensively. “But that's no answer!”

She was given a look from the man that obviously meant he thought she was being thick. “Everyone
knows that Gryffindors have too much `pride,'” he said this last word mockingly, and probably
would have used air quotes for it had he not thought himself above such things, “to associate with
Slytherins. So I doubt you've ever actually *tried* to talk to one. And there's no way
a civilized conversation could arise between the two of you when you've got *that* kind of
attitude.”

Ginny couldn't believe her ears. *He* thought *she* had an attitude? “Maybe
I'd be more inclined to talk with a Slytherin if they were, oh, I don't know,
*polite*?” she suggested snottily.

“*This*,” he said haughtily, waving a hand at her, “is exactly what I mean. And I have
better things to do than put up with it,” he declared as he swept out of the frame, still mumbling
to himself.

For the third time, Ginny fell back onto the bed, letting out a lengthy sigh. Mostly she wanted
to think about nothing at all, but bitter thoughts about Slytherins (as a whole) kept invading her
mind. And besides that a little voice might have said, `maybe that portrait does have a point,'
but if it did Ginny didn't hear it.

Aside from her feelings of irritation directed towards the man, Ginny also couldn't shake
off a feeling of deja vu. It seemed like she'd seen him somewhere, she just couldn't put
her finger on it. It was odd; that nasally voice was one she should have easily been able to
recognize.

She let her thoughts drift for a while, when suddenly it hit her. It was no wonder she could
hardly remember him as the only time she'd glimpsed him was very unclear in her memory. Still,
she could recollect seeing his other picture, as if through a haze, and hear his thin, snobbish
voice dimly; the moment she could pinpoint to the night of her father's attack, and the place
in Dumbledore's office. And as much as her mind was on other things that night, she could still
recall the vague feeling of dislike she had felt for him even then. Ginny believed that this first
impression was quite reliable.

Feeling that settled it, she decided to fully disregard everything he had said to her. And
really, as if she'd take advice from such an arrogant git!

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Ron poked his head in. “Oh, you're in *here*,” he
said, as if he had been looking all over for her. Well, he probably had.

“I would have gone to my room, but with the bindimun in there I rethought that one,” Ginny
replied without even so much as looking up.

Probably wondering why she hadn't just cleared it off herself he asked bewilderedly, “You
know you can just use a scouring charm to get rid of those, right?”

“Yeah, but it's a pretty big one, and you know I'm just about as good at those as Tonks
is,” she responded. “I was just planning on letting mum take care of it, but she still hasn't
gotten around to it.”

“Didn't have to wander into my personal space just because you can't use your room,” he
muttered.

Ginny pushed herself up into a sitting position, her feet still dangling over the edge of the
bed. “Oh yes I did,” she said crossly, folding her arms. “Malfoy's down there, and I'd
really like to do what I can to avoid him.”

Ron turned red at the mention of his enemy's name, but didn't look at all sheepish that
he hadn't bothered to caution Ginny of Malfoy's imminent arrival. “I can't believe
Dumbledore actually *recommended* that he stay here. I mean, it was his idea! And for the
whole fucking summer!”

“Ron, language,” she reprimanded teasingly, mentally echoing his sentiments. “I can't
believe you didn't warn me, though!” she said more harshly, sounding a little hurt.

“Gin, you know I'm not allowed to tell you anything at all! I mean, I would if I could, even
if it would be just to shut you up,” he said, flashing her an apologetic grin.

Normally Ginny would have yelled at him in spite of his perfectly good reasons to be withholding
information from her, and the fact that he even had the decency to feel guilty about it. She had
already decided that she'd had enough of the yelling for the day, though, and instead forced
herself to pursue a polite conversation. “Didn't count on me running into Malfoy right as he
walked through the door, did you?” she asked lightly.

Now Ron did look sheepish. “Well, no,” he admitted, the tips of his ears slightly pink. He
cleared his throat unnecessarily and, looking at the ground, asked, “How'd the tour go?”

“Do you even have to ask that?” Ginny returned with a wry smile. “It didn't go. He started
being a git and after awhile I just couldn't take it anymore.” Unconsciously, she began to pick
at the knot in her shirt. “Was it Snape who told you about the tour?” she asked curiously.

“Nah, mum. She wasn't too pleased with you, you know.”

Ginny snorted. “Yeah, well…I wasn't too pleased with her, either. Leaving me out of
everything, and letting me get stuck with a nothing but a bunch of Slytherins for company!”

Ron looked puzzled. “Who else besides Malfoy are you stuck with?”

Holding up her hand, Ginny began to count people off on her fingers. “Well, I had a lovely chat
with Snape today, and Mrs. Black is always blaring loud enough so that I can hear her - ”

“You're the one who always sets her off!” Ron cut in.

“ - and then there's what's-his-name from the portrait in your room,” she continued,
gesturing to the empty frame. “That's really about it, but I think you'll agree it's
basically the worst group I could have to hang out with over the hols.”

“Hey, you've still got the three of us - me, Harry, and Hermione, that is,” Ron offered
consolingly. “And, er, maybe Malfoy's really not that bad…” he trailed off, immediately looking
appalled at his own words. “No, never mind, he really is that bad,” he amended; he only wanted to
make Ginny feel better, not to lie to her.

“Don't I know it,” Ginny said. “Hey, are you ever planning on telling me what you came up
here for?” she suddenly asked.

“It *is* my room,” he said defensively.

“You were looking for me,” she pointed out.

Ron shrugged and then nodded. “Yeah, okay, actually, I was. Mum wanted me to tell you that
dinner was ready. You and our favorite Slytherin, too…would you happen to know where he is?”

Ginny laughed (it was more of a cackle, really) with genuine glee. “Nowhere he wants to be,” she
announced happily.

“That's real specific,” Ron replied, rolling his eyes. “This whole house is nowhere he wants
to be.”

“It's nowhere I want to be either, to tell you the truth,” Ginny said. “But I led him a ways
down that passage to the right of the entrance hall. I just kind of left him there, too…he's
probably wandered off by now,” she answered.

Ron eyed her warily. “There's spiders down that way,” he said uneasily. “Look, I don't
really want to ask you to do this, but could you go and find him?” he asked pleadingly. “I mean,
I'd go with you, but you know how I am about those awful, eight-legged…ugh, things,” he
finished with a fairly violent shudder.

He still wasn't her favorite person at the moment, but Ginny managed to fight the urge to
make her brother come along with her and shove him into the first cobweb they came across. With a
grimace on her face, she nodded in consent.

“Yay,” she muttered unenthusiastically as Ron walked away. “I get to be the search party for
Malfoy.”

Amazingly, Ginny found as she turned the corner, the prat was right where she had left him. He
was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, apparently resigned to the fact that
he had no idea where he was. He was sulking, as he was wont to do when things weren't going
exactly as he wanted them to, and looked rather pathetic in Ginny's opinion. The sight of him
almost made her laugh.

Draco's head suddenly snapped around towards her when he became aware of her presence. “Come
back for me, have you, Weasel?” he sneered.

Ginny swallowed the giggle she was repressing and put a sneer to match his on her face. “Against
my own will, I'm afraid,” she said curtly, moving up next to his side to glower down at his
sitting form.

Draco's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he feigned surprise. “Really? You
aren't here because you actually *want* to see me?” he said sarcastically.

In response, Ginny gave him a swift kick in the region of his upper leg. She doubted it hurt, as
she wasn't even wearing shoes. “That's enough of your being an arse,” she declared.

“That's enough of your *touching* my arse,” he shot back, looking at the spot she'd
struck him, revolted. He was probably thinking about how she'd managed to transfer some of her
`Weasley germs' onto him.

Ginny almost wanted to protest that it was actually his leg she'd kicked, thank you very
much.

Instead, she decided just to get to the point. “I hope you show some semblance of manners in
front of the adults,” she admonished him with a scowl. “Dinner's ready, and you've got to
come eat it. So get up.”

The Slytherin didn't budge. “I think I'll pass on your gruel, thanks,” he scoffed,
having paid no heed to anything Ginny said to him and still being his usual arse-y self.

“I'll have you know that my mum's cooking is probably the best you would ever taste,”
she said, putting her hands on her hips. “But if you want to go to bed starving, that's your
loss. And you can stay right here for the rest of the summer, too, for all I care,” she told him,
turning around and starting to walk away. “Good luck finding your way out of this maze of
hallways!” she called over her shoulder.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco stand up reluctantly but gracefully; keeping his
distance, he followed her out of the passage, sulking the whole way. Neither of them said a word
until they reached the kitchen.

“This is where the food is,” Ginny informed him rudely, pausing outside. She didn't know why
she was even bothering to tell him, though, as the distinctive and delicious smell wafting through
the door spoke for itself. “I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going to go
eat,” she said, reaching for the handle.

The door swung open before she grasped the knob, however. Snape strode out, but he only took a
couple of steps before stopping in his tracks as he caught sight of them. He spared the two of them
a sweeping, sour look and turned back toward the open door to speak with someone out of sight.
“Never mind, Molly, they seem to have found their way here on their own,” he announced dryly. “It
took you long enough,” he said to Ginny, whom he regarded coldly as he beckoned her and Draco into
the room.

The latter entered the kitchen grudgingly. He hovered doubtfully around Snape, who Ginny noticed
seemed to have decided to stay for dinner for the first time ever. She supposed he was there to
give Malfoy moral support or something.

While Draco looked as if he would rather stuff a dirty sock in his mouth than eat the food on
the table, Ginny was starving and didn't waste a second in filling her plate.

“Well, my summer's ruined,” she declared as she plopped down in her usual seat between Tonks
and Hermione, giving Malfoy an resentful look. “Not that it was great already, but…” she trailed
off as she popped a potato into her mouth.

“You're right, it does kind of put a damper on things,” Hermione said darkly, glaring across
the table at the blonde.

Ginny cocked her head to the side. “It puts a damper on *what* things? Things like
happiness…or something else?” she asked, giving Hermione a very prying look.

“I'm talking about happiness, yes,” Hermione said briskly, picking at her peas uneasily.

“Liar…there's things you aren't telling me,” she muttered, violently stabbing a potato
with her fork. However, in the spirit of courtesy, she chose not to push the subject.

“Ooh, Tonks, that shade of red is really your color!” she exclaimed good-naturedly, spotting the
Auror's newly crimson locks.

“Thanks!” Tonks said brightly, running a hand through her hair. “I don't know how long
it'll last before I get tired of it, though.”

The three girls lapsed into pleasant conversation as they finished their meals, surrounded by a
bubble of cheerfulness for which Ginny was eternally grateful. She was beginning to feel much
better; her “cooling off” process was coming along quite smoothly. And Tonks could always make her
laugh hysterically…in the middle of one such giggle she felt Hermione poke her about ten times
before she was able to settle down.

“Ow, stop that!” Ginny whined at Hermione between big gasps for air, rubbing her shoulder.

“Don't look at me,” Hermione replied, holding up her hands innocently. She leaned back in
her chair so that the person sitting on her other side was in Ginny's clear line of vision, and
jerked her head in their direction.

Ginny saw that it was Bill; he grinned and waved to her.

Ginny did not return the gesture. “What was that for?” she asked him with a slight pout.

Bill shrugged casually, the corners of his mouth quirking up even more. “You know I never tire
of hearing your melodious laughter…it's like the tinkling of pretty little bells…” he began
jokingly, but Ginny could tell from the look in his eyes that he was actually about to turn serious
on her.

“You always say that I laugh like an ostrich,” she interjected, surveying him shrewdly. “And
perhaps someday I'll find out where you've ever heard an ostrich laugh,” she added under
her breath.

Her brother chortled, stretching languidly and tilting his chair back so that only the back legs
were still touching the floor. He was now gazing, calmly, straight ahead. “That Malfoy character is
staring at you…well, glaring daggers, more like,” he said abruptly. “I don't like it,” he
concluded, turning back to her with a concerned expression.

Ginny scanned the room for Draco and found him near Snape, leaning sullenly against the wall.
Sure enough, he had fixed her with a very penetrating and threatening look; it was so intense that
Ginny couldn't figure how she hadn't detected it herself. She was so taken aback by the
sheer force he had put into that gaze that she couldn't help flinching. Though it was hardly
perceptible, Malfoy was unfortunately very observant when it came to things like that. She
couldn't believe that she'd actually allowed herself to give him exactly the kind of
reaction he wanted.

Now that he'd caught her eye, Draco's eyes brightened to reflect smugness rather than
sullenness, but they remained locked with Ginny's as firmly as ever. He didn't say
anything, and Ginny didn't expect him to. He relied so heavily on the power of those kind of
looks, the terribly unnerving ones, that he didn't need words to convey his meaning.

“What's he looking at *you* that way for?” a new voice asked curiously. Ginny forced
herself to tear her gaze away from Draco to look at Harry, who had pulled up the seat across the
table from her.

“Well, we *do* hate each other,” Ginny pointed out.

“Yeah, but I thought I was the one who was his arch nemesis and all that. You'd think
he'd be trying to glare me to death, not you,” Harry clarified, looking at Ginny for an
explanation.

As if Ginny were supposed to know why it was she who ranked number one on Draco Malfoy's
“most hated” list.

There had always been a very strong mutual hate between the two of them; she figured they had
probably loathed each other before they even had met.

As for why he was giving her such a fierce look right now, Ginny figured it was that their last
fight was probably still fresh in his mind. She really didn't feel like rehashing that for
Harry, though.

“I don't know, maybe he still hasn't gotten over that Bat-Bogey Hex,” she responded
evasively. It was lame, it was an excuse, and it wasn't true, but it was all she could come up
with.

The glare Ginny could peg to their quarrel, but the hate between them was more complicated.

After all, it wasn't as if today's fight had been the first. Ginny ran into Malfoy in
corridors at Hogwarts often enough, and they would nearly always have a go at each other then. It
had never gotten this heated before, however, Ginny had to admit.

Still, Draco had been brought up to detest her for who she was; Ginny knew that. But in that
regard she wasn't the only one. So why was it that it was she who he abhorred the most?

The common thread of hatred could easily be traced back to Lucius Malfoy, and it was tied
securely around his pure-blooded pinky. He was the reason that Ginny hated the Malfoys so much. He
was the reason Draco hated.

“Are you sure, Gin?” Hermione asked softly, disrupting Ginny's thoughts. Worry was etched
plainly across her face. “I don't think I've ever seen him look like that…”

Next to Harry, Ron nodded in agreement…Ginny hadn't even noticed that he'd come over
until just now.

“Well, now, getting hit with one of those things *can* scar you for life. Just ask Fred and
George,” Bill told Hermione of the Bat-Bogey Hex. Even though he was defending her pathetic excuse,
Ginny could tell he didn't believe it. Hermione wasn't buying it, either.

Ginny chanced another glance at Malfoy (his expression remained unchanged), and sighed. “Look, I
know you're his bitter enemies and all, but I'm - er - bitter*er* enemies with him, I
suppose. Unlike you, I can't avoid him or ignore him…I just tell him off a lot, and he
doesn't like it.”

Harry understood; Ginny *was* an instigator. But Draco continued to glare at Ginny, and he
wasn't the only one who it was making very uncomfortable. It was equally disturbing that the
Slytherin was being so quiet, so Harry decided to fix that.

“*I'll* tell him off,” he growled, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oy,
Malfoy!” he called in an angry-big-brother tone of voice. He was about to yell, “Quit staring at
Ginny like that!” when the girl in question socked him in the arm. “What?” he asked, temporarily
abandoning his internal debate of whether to call Malfoy a git, bastard, or prick.

“Leave off, I can handle this myself,” she told him out of the corner of her mouth.

Malfoy abandoned his position against the wall and strutted toward their group, presumably
because he didn't want any of the adults to overhear whatever “conversation” they were about to
strike up.

“Defending your girlfriend's honor?” he drawled, smirking at Harry.

“No,” Ginny answered sharply as Harry simultaneously responded, “What girlfriend?”

Ginny found it highly ironic that Harry's comment, which would once have made her stomach
sink miserably through the floor, didn't bother her in the least.

“I would appreciate it if you'd stop trying to bore a hole through my head with your eyes,”
Ginny informed Draco calmly.

“I can look wherever I want,” Draco replied, his lip curling.

“And you chose at me? Why, Malfoy, I'm flattered,” she said, her voice dripping with
sarcasm.

Draco's features contorted into a more pronounced grimace. “If I wanted to stare at red hair
and freckles I could have looked anywhere around the room,” he shot back. “But,” he said in a low
voice, “it was *you* I was trying to get a message across to.” His gray eyes were still
trained on her with unblinking coldness.

“Wouldn't it just have been easier to walk over and say, `I hate you'?” Ginny snarled,
standing up and leaning aggressively toward Malfoy, her palms flat on the table.

“I think this did the job better,” he leered, leaning right back in Ginny's face.

“All it did was make me and everyone else think that you have some twisted obsession with me,”
she spat, her voice escalating.

Draco looked appalled. “You're not worth that,” he returned quietly.

Ginny looked ready to explode. Her face had turned a deep shade of red, and her hands were
gripping the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles were white. It took every ounce of energy
within Ginny to restrain herself from shouting out a string of expletives at Malfoy. “Just - leave
- me - alone,” she hissed in a dangerously soft voice.

“Leave you alone?” Draco scoffed. “That would make for a boring summer, wouldn't it?”

“You're such a child, entertaining yourself by seeing if you can get a rise out of someone!”
Hermione snapped, unable to sit by silently and watch any longer.

“Stay out of this, Mudblood!” Draco retorted, not even sparing her a glance. He and Ginny
remained engaged in the murderous stare-down they were having over the dinner table.

There was an instant uproar. Ron wore an expression akin to the one he'd worn the day he
belched slugs, the first time he'd heard Malfoy use that insult. Harry's mouth dropped open
in outrage, and from Hermione there was a sharp intake of breath. Tonks, who had been quiet thus
far, shrieked, “How dare you!” while Bill stood swiftly up from his seat and looked ready for a
fight.

Ginny was ahead of him, though. The foul word had hardly left Draco's mouth before she
lunged at him, knocking the bowl of pudding off the table as she did so.

“That's enough!” Mrs. Weasley suddenly bellowed, and there was an immediate hush. Ginny
froze with her hands halfway to Draco's throat and her knee in the butter dish. “I think
it's time we get to bed,” her mother announced firmly.

Naturally, no one was about to argue with her.

“I'll show Mr. Malfoy to his room,” Snape offered. He was never too keen on hanging around
longer than he needed to, and took this as his cue to leave. Draco followed him out of the kitchen,
managing to limit himself to only one nasty look thrown over his shoulder as he left.

Ginny, still trembling with anger, climbed off of the table and attempted to compose herself.
“Well, to bed, then,” she told them all in what she hoped was a controlled voice. “Oh, speaking
of,” she said, turning to Hermione, “do you know where we're supposed to be sleeping
tonight?”

“The room Fred and George used to have, I think,” Hermione answered.

“No,” Ron butted in urgently, “that one isn't yours, that's the room that
*Malfoy*'s going to be staying in.”

Ginny, while amazed that her brother had been capable of remembering this information, was also
none to happy that Hermione had mixed it up. “*You're* supposed to be the one to know
those things!” she cried, rounding on Hermione with an incredulous look on her face. “What if Ron
hadn't known and we'd gone up there, and wandered in only to find ourselves face to face
with Malfoy again!”

Hermione appeared more miffed about the fact that she'd actually been wrong about something
than at Ginny's furious exclamation. Pulling a notebook out of her robes, she riffled through
it until she found the page she was looking for. “Oh, and I even wrote it down!” she lamented,
tapping her finger on what apparently was the spot she had made a note of Draco's sleeping
quarters. “Don't worry, I wrote us down, too,” she assured Ginny as she snapped the note pad
shut. “We're taking the room next to Tonks'.”

The two girls bid the others goodnight, and tramped off to bed. Thankfully, their things had
already been moved to their temporary bedroom, so neither of them had to brave the bindimun's
smell to retrieve their pajamas.

“What was up with you and Malfoy?” Hermione inquired conversationally after she had returned
from brushing her teeth.

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, genuinely confused. “Hateful behavior and fights are nothing
out of the ordinary when he's concerned.”

Hermione sat down cross-legged on her bed, facing Ginny. “I know,” she conceded, chewing her
bottom lip thoughtfully. “But there were more than just words exchanged between the two of you.
Between Harry and Ron, I've had to witness a number of fights involving Malfoy, but somehow I
got the feeling that there was something I didn't know about going on here,” she said
slowly.

“It was just an argument!” Ginny countered quickly - perhaps a bit too quickly to be convincing.
Ginny was no stranger to the argument, especially when it was with Malfoy, but she couldn't
deny that those disputes tended to be more heated and passionate. She couldn't explain why;
there had always been a spark that had fueled the hatred between the pair more than what was on the
surface, and more than Lucius had, even.

Hermione just studied her worriedly, but seemed to have decided it wouldn't be wise to push
the subject. “If you say so,” she said uneasily.

“Well, I do,” Ginny replied rather more forcefully than she had intended. Trust Hermione to make
her question the hateful relationship she had with Draco Malfoy, which she had been perfectly
content with up until right then.

“Well, good night, then,” Hermione said from the next bed.

“Yeah, g'night,” Ginny returned in a rather distant voice. There *was* something deeper
between herself and Draco, something deeper than the arch-rival type of dislike that the trio had
with him. Maybe it was more than just hate…but what could be deeper than hate?

She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice Hermione turn off the light.

**~*~**

I was planning to give an explanation as to why the trio is allowed into the Order, and Ginny
isn't, and why they're not allowed to tell her anything (and actually go by that rule)
during this last conversation of Hermione and Ginny's. But it just didn't fit…maybe
I'll find somewhere to put it in later, or maybe I'll just post it separately if there
really is nowhere to put it. But if that's been bothering you, just know that there is a
plausible reason!

As always, I will take this time to remind you to review! And to thank everyone who reviewed for
the last chapter!

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