CHAPTER 4
Ginny returned to the common room and found it empty. She considered, for a moment, trying to find Hermione, but discarded the idea quickly. Ron wasn't around either, and she didn't want to walk in on them making out. Eeeeew, she thought. Ginny was neither ignorant nor frigid, but the thought of seeing her own brother in the throws of passion was something she hoped she?d never have to deal with
She curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, glad t have some time alone with her thoughts. Madam Pince was away for the holidays, so no one was allowed to check books out of the library, one reason why Ginny was there so often. But why had Malfoy been there? He had brought his own book ? he could have read that in his common room. Would have suited me fine, Ginny thought. And why the hell didn't he go home for Christmas? He used to wind Harry up about that, and now he's here himself...
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ron and Hermione, who were coming down from the girls' dorm and trying to look as if nothing had happened. Way to go, thought Ginny. Like none of us notice.
She was pretty sure she knew what they had been doing; if they'd just been making out, they wouldn't be looking so guilty. She wondered if either of them would talk to her about it. Ron probably wouldn't ? it probably wasn't his first time, and he had never talked to her about his love life before; to him, she was his kid sister that had to be protected from the harsh facts of real life. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Of course she didn't want to talk to him about his love life, and somewhere deep down she thought it was kind of cute hat he cared enough about her to want to protect her like that. But wanting to beat up her boyfriends went too far. He couldn't just interfere in her love life while keeping his own so secret.
"We're going to dinner." Hermione interrupted her thoughts. "You coming?"
"Yeah, sure."
Harry joined them in the Great Hall, noting the dreamy expression on Ron's face.
"You look pretty love-struck there, mate," he said, and grinned.
Ron grinned back.
"I am. I can't believe how lucky I am. I love her so much, it's like every little thing she does is..." He trailed off, looking for the right word.
"Magic?" Harry suggested.
Ron looked at him curiously for a moment. "No shit."
Harry couldn?t help but laugh in spite of himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend your intelligence there. It's a Muggle saying."
"Figures," Ron muttered.
~*~
Christmas morning dawned cold and white; the first snow of the season had fallen overnight. Ron was the first one awake, and lay in his bed enjoying the calm around him, the stillness broken only by Harry's soft snores.
Half an hour later Hermione came into their dorm. She saw that Harry was still asleep, and quietly added his and Ron's presents to the piles at the ends of their respective beds, before tiptoeing over to Ron to give him a kiss. He pulled her closer to him and she lay down next to him, on top of his covers. He interlocked his hands behind her back, and they were kissing and giggling, and didn't even realize how much noise they were making until:
"Oh come on you two. I can't believe that's the first thing I have to see on Christmas morning!"
Hermione nearly fell out of Ron's bed. Harry was propped up on his elbows, grinning at her. Then his expression changed suddenly, as if someone had hit him with an invisible frying pan.
"You haven't been here all night, have you?"
She grinned mischievously.
"You slept like a baby throughout the entire performance," Ron called out from behind her, and then "Ow!" as Hermione hit him playfully over the head with his pillow.
"I can't believe you haven't opened your presents yet!" Ginny said, coming up the stairs in her pyjamas and carrying a pile of parcels.
"I can't believe it either," Harry told her, and promptly began tearing the wrapping off his presents.
Mrs Weasley had sent them all home-made jumpers and toffee. Harry's jumper was blue, Ginny's was a very pretty shade of green, and Ron's and Hermione's were a matching maroon.
Mrs Weasley had picked out just the right shade, so that it clashed with neither Ron's hair nor Hermione's complexion. (?Hah!? Ron said, "She just couldn?t give up on the 'maroon jumper for Ron' thing. It's like a fetish.?).
Hagrid had sent each of them a box of Honeydukes sweets, Ron gave Hermione a pretty bracelet, and Remus had sent Harry some very expensive-looking cologne. Hermione caught sight of it, smelled it and passed it to Ginny.
"Wow, this smells really good," she said. "Ickle Harrykins is going to be a girl-magnet. Just don't forget to thank Remus for it, boy." She grinned at him.
"Thanks, Ginny. You really know how to keep me humble."
"That's what I'm here for," she told him, and dodged the pillow he threw at her.
Ginny gave Ron a book about the Chudley Cannons, and Harry a book about Puddlemere United. Ron and Harry gave each other purses made of moke-skin, and laughed out loud when each saw what the other had gotten him.
~*~
There were so few students left at Hogwarts that there was only one student?s table in the Great Hall, but usually the people from different houses ate at different times, sometimes even skipping meals and going directly to the kitchens. The Christmas feast was the first time that all remaining students were in the hall together, and the first time anyone except Ginny noticed that Malfoy was still at school. Furthermore, his
cronies didn't seem to be with him. There were only two other Slytherin students: a sneaky looking third year, and a pretty girl Ginny knew to be a chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Ginny was sitting between Hermione and Harry, both of whom were looking extremely surprised to find Draco sitting at the other end of the table.
"Did you know he was here?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Yeah," she told him. He looked even more shocked. She frowned at his expression, but decided not to say anything.
After they had eaten, everyone started pulling crackers, even, Ginny noticed, Malfoy, although he stuffed his party hat into his pocket. I bet he wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of those, she thought.
His appearance totally contrasted Harry's; Harry had a broad forehead and quite a big nose (which didn't attract attention, due to his glasses, but Ginny had decided it suited him anyway), and his hair was always untidy. Draco's face was narrow and looked like it had been chiselled out of marble. He had high cheekbones, an aquiline nose and no blemishes whatsoever. And his hair was always immaculate, even after a Quidditch match.
She wondered if he was part-veela. That would definitely explain his complexion and hair-colour, which was very light, almost like white gold. But it didn't explain the colour of his eyes. Veela had blue eyes, Ginny was pretty sure of that, but Draco's eyes were platinum-gray. How can someone have eyes that colour, she mused. When she was fighting out one of her verbal battles with him, there were speckles in his eyes, like a snowstorm, and right now they were like slate-coloured glass, and as impenetrable as a Gringott's vault.
She wondered what he was thinking. She could read Harry's face like an open book, knew the matching emotion for every shade of green in his eyes: vivid when he was angry, making it look like a green fire was burning under his lashes; darker when he was moody or sad, and lighter, more bottle-green, like the sun hitting the roof of a dense forest, when he was happy.
Draco's face was unintelligible to her.
Suddenly the awareness of what she was thinking hit her. She scowled. Why do I even care?
~*~
Draco was lying on his bed in his dorm, Blaise next to him. They were the only two Sixth Year?s left in Slytherin and, even though neither of them would admit it, they were both lonely. She had spent the first evening of the holidays in his dorm, and the next evening, she hadn't left. There wasn't anyone to miss her if she didn't return to her own bed at night.
At first, they had just cuddled up to each other for warmth and comfort, but their bed-sharing hadn't stayed innocent for long.
Now she sat up, looked down at him lying with his hands behind his head, and grinned mischievously. She climbed on top of him and sat just above his knees, running her hands up his thighs. She ran them further up, let them linger for a moment, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He put his hands under her top and smirked at her. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
She pulled off his unbuttoned shirt, forcing his arms up over his head, then started undoing his trousers. He pulled her down to him, and pressed his mouth down on hers, forcing his tongue through her lips. Their kisses were fierce and deep.
She made a sound between a squeal and a purr as he pushed her off him and down into the pillows, and sat on top of her. He pulled her top up over her head, revealing creamy-white skin.
She was stunned at what he could do to her. He was savagely dominant and infinitely gentle at the same time, more or less gentle depending on his mood, but never gruff. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and it rocked her to her core. He gave her pleasure she hadn't even dreamt of.
He didn't act any differently tonight, but the last of her power of observation told her that part of him was absent. She couldn't put her finger on it, though, so she ignored it.
Draco felt her weight on him, moving his body in time to the beat of their heavy breathing and the contrapuntal rhythm of their hearts. Her eyes were closed, and the only thing he could make out in the dark room was her white skin and flaming hair. The realization of whom he was thinking about hit him so hard it almost winded him. Where the hell did that thought come from? He tried to transfer all energy into his bodily activities and shut down his mind, but he couldn't block out his thoughts, thoughts of a person who was definitely not Blaise.
~*~
New Years Eve came, inevitably. Ron and Hermione wanted to 'celebrate' alone, so Harry and Ginny went to the Astronomy Tower to let off some Filibusters Fireworks.
"We're the only ones up here," Harry said. "I wonder where everyone else is ? I can't believe they're inside."
We're the only ones up here. The words echoed in Ginny's head. There were still remnants of her crush on Harry in her system, like traces of a drug that had not quite worn off. She had never dated Harry, and by now, most of her feelings for him had gone, or reversed, but her stomach still knotted when she looked into his eyes.
He produced a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey and grinned a Fred-and-George-grin at her.
"We've got to keep warm."
She didn't even ask how he had gotten hold of it. Ginny had scrounged a supply of Butterbeer from the house-elves in the kitchens, and they challenged each other to see who could skull theirs faster. Then came the bottle of Firewhiskey. It was sufficient to make Ginny completely drunk. Her self-control disappeared along with the whiskey and she was completely uninhibited. She was sitting next to him, head on his shoulder and when he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards him, she didn't struggle.
She felt him kissing her before she actually registered what was happening. Then she leaned into the kiss, white-hot fire coursing through her veins. I?m burning, she thought. Every single nerve ending was a thousand times more sensitive to everything around her, in the universe that had narrowed down to Harry and her.
Her skin felt like ice on fire wherever he touched her, and the last of her reason crumbled to dust as she let herself fall backwards, pulling him on top of her and arching her back to mould her body to his. He put an arm under her back and held her there. He ran his tongue around her lips, kissed her eyelids, her forehead and throat, causing her to moan with pleasure. Don't ever stop, she begged silently.
Draco was wandering up the winding staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower. He had left Blaise in the common room. She hadn't been pleased, but he wanted to be alone. He was lost in thought, and almost walked into the couple snogging on the floor of the top of the Astronomy Tower. Oh good lord! he thought. Is that Weasley and Granger? No, it isn't ? it's... OH, GOOD LORD.
Draco felt as if his insides were melting. They ran in rivulets down the inside of his stomach, to settle in a heavy puddle where his abdomen had been. It was very unpleasant.
The girl on the floor gave a quiet moan. Draco squirmed. He did not want to be watching this. He had stuff to do. People to meet. Well, maybe not people to meet. But he had to get away from here.
He went back very quickly the way he had come only minutes before, trying very hard not to think about what he had just seen, and failing miserably. His liquefied insides sloshed around unpleasantly every time he thought of that quiet little moan.
What he needed now was chocolate. He had heard somewhere that it was the best remedy for molten insides. There's probably chocolate in the kitchens, he thought. Right. The kitchens it is.
It took him longer than expected to get there, as he had not been watching where he was going, and had walked into a wall. His forehead and nose had taken the brunt of the collision. His eyes had watered, the tears cascading freely down his cheeks, and the pain had been almost unbearable. He had just stood there in shock for two minutes.
The pear hadn't turned into a handle. Well, maybe he had been scratching rather thank tickling it, but a few fingernail marks were no reason to refuse entry, not even for an over-sensitive pear, he thought impatiently. He threw a small tantrum, shouting at the pear and kicking at the wall. He subsequently stubbed his toe. He started hopping around on one foot, feeling incredibly stupid, but the sharp pain that knifed through his foot also seemed to cut through the red fog in his mind.
It occurred to him that he was not being rational, and he managed to calm down enough to tickle the pear without chipping even more paint off it. He finally found himself in the kitchens, surrounded by house-elves waiting to do his bidding, and his mood improved drastically. He barked a few sharp orders, and sat down on one of the tables. The surface around him was soon covered by chocolates, éclairs, tarts and cookies. It felt good to be shouting at the house-elves, even though his anger did not subside completely.
He was caught totally unawares by the echo of a small moan that pierced the silence of his subconscious. He winced, and accidentally shattered the glass he was holding. A drop of deep red spilled over a larger cut and brazenly ran across the surface of his palm.
Great. Now his hand was bleeding, too. This is really the best New Years I've ever had, he muttered quietly to himself.
When he got back to the Slytherin dungeon, he went straight to bed, leaving a very disgruntled Blaise standing outside his door.
But he stayed up late, thinking. The thought of Ginny and Potter together wasn't a nice one. Why Potter? He really couldn't see why she was wasting her time with that arrogant bastard.
Not that it was anything to him.
~*~
Ginny woke up the next morning with a hangover the size of Brighton.
"Bloody hell," she said out loud to her empty dorm, but that only made her headache worse. She went back to sleep.
When she woke up again, her headache was slightly better, and she decided to have a glass of pumpkin juice; she wanted to have something in her stomach, even if it was only fluid.
She set out to the Great Hall on wobbly legs and was relieved to find it Harry-free. She would talk to him when his words wouldn't reverberate inside her skull, making her want to throw up.
She poured herself a glass of juice, and lay her head down on the table next to it.
"Hangover?" a voice drawled next to her. Oh no. Not you ? not now. She looked into Draco Malfoy's steel-gray eyes
.
"Yes," she said wearily. He looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something more witty.
"I was expecting something more witty."
"Malfoy, I am not in the mood like you wouldn't believe, so please sod off," she mumbled.
He looked as though he was going to comment on that, when, suddenly:
"I feel sick!" she blurted, and ran to the nearest toilet. He ran after her, into the girls' bathroom on the first floor and found her bent over the toilet in the first cubicle.
"Lord, Weasley, you're going to retch all over your hair," he mumbled to himself, and held it for her. He looked away, looking a lot like he was going to be sick himself, but stood his ground. When she was done, and had rinsed her mouth, she looked at him, grateful but confused.
"Why did you do that?" she asked him.
"I couldn't let you throw up all over your hair. I'll see you around." he said and left, leaving her sitting on the bathroom floor feeling very stupid.
After a while she went back to the Great Hall to get a piece of unbuttered toast and ate it on her way to the library. There, she curled up in an armchair, willing her heaving stomach to not reject the toast, and tried to straighten out her thoughts. She didn't get very far though, before falling soundly asleep.
Someone was shaking her gently. She looked up into Hermione's soft brown eyes.
"Harry's looking for you," the older girl told her.
Ginny shook her head.
"I really don't want to see him."
Hermione blinked at her.
"What happened?" she asked.
Ginny told her. Told her about the butterbeer and the whiskey, about the kiss, and about how she had thrown up this morning. The only thing she didn't tell Hermione was Draco holding her hair for her. She had to ponder that for herself first.
"'Moine ? I was completely and utterly drunk!" she ended her recitation.
"So you don't have a crush on him anymore?"
"I don't know," Ginny mumbled. "I definitely enjoyed that, you know, last night..." she trailed off. She was fighting an internal battle. She wanted to confide in Hermione, but something inside was telling her to get it sorted out first. She couldn't be sure if Hermione wouldn't tell Harry, and Ginny would rather he heard it from her. Also, admitting she didn't like Harry anymore might lead to questions about why not, and who the object of her affection was now. Those were questions she wasn't prepared to answer.
Still, it was hard to catch Hermione alone these days, so this was a chance she probably wouldn't get again very soon. And it couldn't hurt to tell her at least a little bit of what she was feeling, could it?
"You know," she continued, "I've been in love with Harry since I was ten years old. I've put those feelings aside as best I could, and I think they'll always be there. But," she added with vehemence, "It's something I've learned to live with. It's like a constant pain I've gotten used to. But if he's suddenly decided he wants to go out with me, and I convince myself he loves me and it doesn't work out, then I'd rather just leave it the way it is. I think that his actions were caused by alcohol, and frankly, I don't need my bruised heart broken. I'm scared of the way he can hurt me." She looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, willing her to understand.
Hermione sighed and nodded, obviously not realising that Ginny had not told her the whole truth.
Ginny was grateful when she left.
Ginny returned to the common room and found it empty. She considered, for a moment, trying to find Hermione, but discarded the idea quickly. Ron wasn't around either, and she didn't want to walk in on them making out. Eeeeew, she thought. Ginny was neither ignorant nor frigid, but the thought of seeing her own brother in the throws of passion was something she hoped she?d never have to deal with
She curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, glad t have some time alone with her thoughts. Madam Pince was away for the holidays, so no one was allowed to check books out of the library, one reason why Ginny was there so often. But why had Malfoy been there? He had brought his own book ? he could have read that in his common room. Would have suited me fine, Ginny thought. And why the hell didn't he go home for Christmas? He used to wind Harry up about that, and now he's here himself...
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ron and Hermione, who were coming down from the girls' dorm and trying to look as if nothing had happened. Way to go, thought Ginny. Like none of us notice.
She was pretty sure she knew what they had been doing; if they'd just been making out, they wouldn't be looking so guilty. She wondered if either of them would talk to her about it. Ron probably wouldn't ? it probably wasn't his first time, and he had never talked to her about his love life before; to him, she was his kid sister that had to be protected from the harsh facts of real life. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Of course she didn't want to talk to him about his love life, and somewhere deep down she thought it was kind of cute hat he cared enough about her to want to protect her like that. But wanting to beat up her boyfriends went too far. He couldn't just interfere in her love life while keeping his own so secret.
"We're going to dinner." Hermione interrupted her thoughts. "You coming?"
"Yeah, sure."
Harry joined them in the Great Hall, noting the dreamy expression on Ron's face.
"You look pretty love-struck there, mate," he said, and grinned.
Ron grinned back.
"I am. I can't believe how lucky I am. I love her so much, it's like every little thing she does is..." He trailed off, looking for the right word.
"Magic?" Harry suggested.
Ron looked at him curiously for a moment. "No shit."
Harry couldn?t help but laugh in spite of himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend your intelligence there. It's a Muggle saying."
"Figures," Ron muttered.
~*~
Christmas morning dawned cold and white; the first snow of the season had fallen overnight. Ron was the first one awake, and lay in his bed enjoying the calm around him, the stillness broken only by Harry's soft snores.
Half an hour later Hermione came into their dorm. She saw that Harry was still asleep, and quietly added his and Ron's presents to the piles at the ends of their respective beds, before tiptoeing over to Ron to give him a kiss. He pulled her closer to him and she lay down next to him, on top of his covers. He interlocked his hands behind her back, and they were kissing and giggling, and didn't even realize how much noise they were making until:
"Oh come on you two. I can't believe that's the first thing I have to see on Christmas morning!"
Hermione nearly fell out of Ron's bed. Harry was propped up on his elbows, grinning at her. Then his expression changed suddenly, as if someone had hit him with an invisible frying pan.
"You haven't been here all night, have you?"
She grinned mischievously.
"You slept like a baby throughout the entire performance," Ron called out from behind her, and then "Ow!" as Hermione hit him playfully over the head with his pillow.
"I can't believe you haven't opened your presents yet!" Ginny said, coming up the stairs in her pyjamas and carrying a pile of parcels.
"I can't believe it either," Harry told her, and promptly began tearing the wrapping off his presents.
Mrs Weasley had sent them all home-made jumpers and toffee. Harry's jumper was blue, Ginny's was a very pretty shade of green, and Ron's and Hermione's were a matching maroon.
Mrs Weasley had picked out just the right shade, so that it clashed with neither Ron's hair nor Hermione's complexion. (?Hah!? Ron said, "She just couldn?t give up on the 'maroon jumper for Ron' thing. It's like a fetish.?).
Hagrid had sent each of them a box of Honeydukes sweets, Ron gave Hermione a pretty bracelet, and Remus had sent Harry some very expensive-looking cologne. Hermione caught sight of it, smelled it and passed it to Ginny.
"Wow, this smells really good," she said. "Ickle Harrykins is going to be a girl-magnet. Just don't forget to thank Remus for it, boy." She grinned at him.
"Thanks, Ginny. You really know how to keep me humble."
"That's what I'm here for," she told him, and dodged the pillow he threw at her.
Ginny gave Ron a book about the Chudley Cannons, and Harry a book about Puddlemere United. Ron and Harry gave each other purses made of moke-skin, and laughed out loud when each saw what the other had gotten him.
~*~
There were so few students left at Hogwarts that there was only one student?s table in the Great Hall, but usually the people from different houses ate at different times, sometimes even skipping meals and going directly to the kitchens. The Christmas feast was the first time that all remaining students were in the hall together, and the first time anyone except Ginny noticed that Malfoy was still at school. Furthermore, his
cronies didn't seem to be with him. There were only two other Slytherin students: a sneaky looking third year, and a pretty girl Ginny knew to be a chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Ginny was sitting between Hermione and Harry, both of whom were looking extremely surprised to find Draco sitting at the other end of the table.
"Did you know he was here?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Yeah," she told him. He looked even more shocked. She frowned at his expression, but decided not to say anything.
After they had eaten, everyone started pulling crackers, even, Ginny noticed, Malfoy, although he stuffed his party hat into his pocket. I bet he wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of those, she thought.
His appearance totally contrasted Harry's; Harry had a broad forehead and quite a big nose (which didn't attract attention, due to his glasses, but Ginny had decided it suited him anyway), and his hair was always untidy. Draco's face was narrow and looked like it had been chiselled out of marble. He had high cheekbones, an aquiline nose and no blemishes whatsoever. And his hair was always immaculate, even after a Quidditch match.
She wondered if he was part-veela. That would definitely explain his complexion and hair-colour, which was very light, almost like white gold. But it didn't explain the colour of his eyes. Veela had blue eyes, Ginny was pretty sure of that, but Draco's eyes were platinum-gray. How can someone have eyes that colour, she mused. When she was fighting out one of her verbal battles with him, there were speckles in his eyes, like a snowstorm, and right now they were like slate-coloured glass, and as impenetrable as a Gringott's vault.
She wondered what he was thinking. She could read Harry's face like an open book, knew the matching emotion for every shade of green in his eyes: vivid when he was angry, making it look like a green fire was burning under his lashes; darker when he was moody or sad, and lighter, more bottle-green, like the sun hitting the roof of a dense forest, when he was happy.
Draco's face was unintelligible to her.
Suddenly the awareness of what she was thinking hit her. She scowled. Why do I even care?
~*~
Draco was lying on his bed in his dorm, Blaise next to him. They were the only two Sixth Year?s left in Slytherin and, even though neither of them would admit it, they were both lonely. She had spent the first evening of the holidays in his dorm, and the next evening, she hadn't left. There wasn't anyone to miss her if she didn't return to her own bed at night.
At first, they had just cuddled up to each other for warmth and comfort, but their bed-sharing hadn't stayed innocent for long.
Now she sat up, looked down at him lying with his hands behind his head, and grinned mischievously. She climbed on top of him and sat just above his knees, running her hands up his thighs. She ran them further up, let them linger for a moment, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He put his hands under her top and smirked at her. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
She pulled off his unbuttoned shirt, forcing his arms up over his head, then started undoing his trousers. He pulled her down to him, and pressed his mouth down on hers, forcing his tongue through her lips. Their kisses were fierce and deep.
She made a sound between a squeal and a purr as he pushed her off him and down into the pillows, and sat on top of her. He pulled her top up over her head, revealing creamy-white skin.
She was stunned at what he could do to her. He was savagely dominant and infinitely gentle at the same time, more or less gentle depending on his mood, but never gruff. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and it rocked her to her core. He gave her pleasure she hadn't even dreamt of.
He didn't act any differently tonight, but the last of her power of observation told her that part of him was absent. She couldn't put her finger on it, though, so she ignored it.
Draco felt her weight on him, moving his body in time to the beat of their heavy breathing and the contrapuntal rhythm of their hearts. Her eyes were closed, and the only thing he could make out in the dark room was her white skin and flaming hair. The realization of whom he was thinking about hit him so hard it almost winded him. Where the hell did that thought come from? He tried to transfer all energy into his bodily activities and shut down his mind, but he couldn't block out his thoughts, thoughts of a person who was definitely not Blaise.
~*~
New Years Eve came, inevitably. Ron and Hermione wanted to 'celebrate' alone, so Harry and Ginny went to the Astronomy Tower to let off some Filibusters Fireworks.
"We're the only ones up here," Harry said. "I wonder where everyone else is ? I can't believe they're inside."
We're the only ones up here. The words echoed in Ginny's head. There were still remnants of her crush on Harry in her system, like traces of a drug that had not quite worn off. She had never dated Harry, and by now, most of her feelings for him had gone, or reversed, but her stomach still knotted when she looked into his eyes.
He produced a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey and grinned a Fred-and-George-grin at her.
"We've got to keep warm."
She didn't even ask how he had gotten hold of it. Ginny had scrounged a supply of Butterbeer from the house-elves in the kitchens, and they challenged each other to see who could skull theirs faster. Then came the bottle of Firewhiskey. It was sufficient to make Ginny completely drunk. Her self-control disappeared along with the whiskey and she was completely uninhibited. She was sitting next to him, head on his shoulder and when he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards him, she didn't struggle.
She felt him kissing her before she actually registered what was happening. Then she leaned into the kiss, white-hot fire coursing through her veins. I?m burning, she thought. Every single nerve ending was a thousand times more sensitive to everything around her, in the universe that had narrowed down to Harry and her.
Her skin felt like ice on fire wherever he touched her, and the last of her reason crumbled to dust as she let herself fall backwards, pulling him on top of her and arching her back to mould her body to his. He put an arm under her back and held her there. He ran his tongue around her lips, kissed her eyelids, her forehead and throat, causing her to moan with pleasure. Don't ever stop, she begged silently.
Draco was wandering up the winding staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower. He had left Blaise in the common room. She hadn't been pleased, but he wanted to be alone. He was lost in thought, and almost walked into the couple snogging on the floor of the top of the Astronomy Tower. Oh good lord! he thought. Is that Weasley and Granger? No, it isn't ? it's... OH, GOOD LORD.
Draco felt as if his insides were melting. They ran in rivulets down the inside of his stomach, to settle in a heavy puddle where his abdomen had been. It was very unpleasant.
The girl on the floor gave a quiet moan. Draco squirmed. He did not want to be watching this. He had stuff to do. People to meet. Well, maybe not people to meet. But he had to get away from here.
He went back very quickly the way he had come only minutes before, trying very hard not to think about what he had just seen, and failing miserably. His liquefied insides sloshed around unpleasantly every time he thought of that quiet little moan.
What he needed now was chocolate. He had heard somewhere that it was the best remedy for molten insides. There's probably chocolate in the kitchens, he thought. Right. The kitchens it is.
It took him longer than expected to get there, as he had not been watching where he was going, and had walked into a wall. His forehead and nose had taken the brunt of the collision. His eyes had watered, the tears cascading freely down his cheeks, and the pain had been almost unbearable. He had just stood there in shock for two minutes.
The pear hadn't turned into a handle. Well, maybe he had been scratching rather thank tickling it, but a few fingernail marks were no reason to refuse entry, not even for an over-sensitive pear, he thought impatiently. He threw a small tantrum, shouting at the pear and kicking at the wall. He subsequently stubbed his toe. He started hopping around on one foot, feeling incredibly stupid, but the sharp pain that knifed through his foot also seemed to cut through the red fog in his mind.
It occurred to him that he was not being rational, and he managed to calm down enough to tickle the pear without chipping even more paint off it. He finally found himself in the kitchens, surrounded by house-elves waiting to do his bidding, and his mood improved drastically. He barked a few sharp orders, and sat down on one of the tables. The surface around him was soon covered by chocolates, éclairs, tarts and cookies. It felt good to be shouting at the house-elves, even though his anger did not subside completely.
He was caught totally unawares by the echo of a small moan that pierced the silence of his subconscious. He winced, and accidentally shattered the glass he was holding. A drop of deep red spilled over a larger cut and brazenly ran across the surface of his palm.
Great. Now his hand was bleeding, too. This is really the best New Years I've ever had, he muttered quietly to himself.
When he got back to the Slytherin dungeon, he went straight to bed, leaving a very disgruntled Blaise standing outside his door.
But he stayed up late, thinking. The thought of Ginny and Potter together wasn't a nice one. Why Potter? He really couldn't see why she was wasting her time with that arrogant bastard.
Not that it was anything to him.
~*~
Ginny woke up the next morning with a hangover the size of Brighton.
"Bloody hell," she said out loud to her empty dorm, but that only made her headache worse. She went back to sleep.
When she woke up again, her headache was slightly better, and she decided to have a glass of pumpkin juice; she wanted to have something in her stomach, even if it was only fluid.
She set out to the Great Hall on wobbly legs and was relieved to find it Harry-free. She would talk to him when his words wouldn't reverberate inside her skull, making her want to throw up.
She poured herself a glass of juice, and lay her head down on the table next to it.
"Hangover?" a voice drawled next to her. Oh no. Not you ? not now. She looked into Draco Malfoy's steel-gray eyes
.
"Yes," she said wearily. He looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something more witty.
"I was expecting something more witty."
"Malfoy, I am not in the mood like you wouldn't believe, so please sod off," she mumbled.
He looked as though he was going to comment on that, when, suddenly:
"I feel sick!" she blurted, and ran to the nearest toilet. He ran after her, into the girls' bathroom on the first floor and found her bent over the toilet in the first cubicle.
"Lord, Weasley, you're going to retch all over your hair," he mumbled to himself, and held it for her. He looked away, looking a lot like he was going to be sick himself, but stood his ground. When she was done, and had rinsed her mouth, she looked at him, grateful but confused.
"Why did you do that?" she asked him.
"I couldn't let you throw up all over your hair. I'll see you around." he said and left, leaving her sitting on the bathroom floor feeling very stupid.
After a while she went back to the Great Hall to get a piece of unbuttered toast and ate it on her way to the library. There, she curled up in an armchair, willing her heaving stomach to not reject the toast, and tried to straighten out her thoughts. She didn't get very far though, before falling soundly asleep.
Someone was shaking her gently. She looked up into Hermione's soft brown eyes.
"Harry's looking for you," the older girl told her.
Ginny shook her head.
"I really don't want to see him."
Hermione blinked at her.
"What happened?" she asked.
Ginny told her. Told her about the butterbeer and the whiskey, about the kiss, and about how she had thrown up this morning. The only thing she didn't tell Hermione was Draco holding her hair for her. She had to ponder that for herself first.
"'Moine ? I was completely and utterly drunk!" she ended her recitation.
"So you don't have a crush on him anymore?"
"I don't know," Ginny mumbled. "I definitely enjoyed that, you know, last night..." she trailed off. She was fighting an internal battle. She wanted to confide in Hermione, but something inside was telling her to get it sorted out first. She couldn't be sure if Hermione wouldn't tell Harry, and Ginny would rather he heard it from her. Also, admitting she didn't like Harry anymore might lead to questions about why not, and who the object of her affection was now. Those were questions she wasn't prepared to answer.
Still, it was hard to catch Hermione alone these days, so this was a chance she probably wouldn't get again very soon. And it couldn't hurt to tell her at least a little bit of what she was feeling, could it?
"You know," she continued, "I've been in love with Harry since I was ten years old. I've put those feelings aside as best I could, and I think they'll always be there. But," she added with vehemence, "It's something I've learned to live with. It's like a constant pain I've gotten used to. But if he's suddenly decided he wants to go out with me, and I convince myself he loves me and it doesn't work out, then I'd rather just leave it the way it is. I think that his actions were caused by alcohol, and frankly, I don't need my bruised heart broken. I'm scared of the way he can hurt me." She looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, willing her to understand.
Hermione sighed and nodded, obviously not realising that Ginny had not told her the whole truth.
Ginny was grateful when she left.
To Be Continued.
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