Pawns and Fairy Tales
If Ginny was exhausted, emotionally numb and terribly sore from her misadventures the night before, her outward appearance when she met Blaise Zabini outside the Three Broomsticks certainly didn't show it. She greeted him enthusiastically, seemingly full to bursting with nervous energy. If there were dark circles under her eyes, a tightness about her mouth and a stiffness of movement in her step, Blaise seemed happily ignorant of it.
She'd popped her head briefly into the Three Broomsticks, to reassure herself that things had been set to right after the ordeal the previous night. All the tables and chairs were back in their rightful spots, and there was no broken glass littered about. A steely-faced Hermione was standing behind the bar, meeting her friend's eyes with a cool nod before turning away and treating her to a bout of silence. Rosmerta had shaken her head at the girl, demanded to know what she was doing out when she should have been at home resting and ordered her not to get into any trouble.
"I don't get into trouble. Trouble just has a special knack for finding me," Ginny had laughed brightly, trying (and failing) to present a light-hearted front. Rosmerta needed to believe that she was truly alright, otherwise Ginny had no doubt she'd be owling her parents, and who knows what would happen from there.
"Well, see that you keep away from it for at least a little while. If either of you," Rosmerta said, with a pointed look in Hermione's direction, "bring that kind of trouble into my establishment again, I'll send you both off packing without hesitation."
Ginny had laughed, and played off the whole situation with feigned breezy indifference, and practically skipped outside to wait for Blaise. She'd brought her broomstick, hoping that she could talk him into flying for awhile. Her stomach was a mass of panicked knots, and she really wanted some time in the air to clear her mind. She couldn't figure out what she was so nervous about - her and Blaise had developed enough of a friendship now, and had many easy-going conversations, that her unease made little sense.
But it was there, nonetheless. When he walked up to her, she thought that her stomach would jump into her throat. He was as beautiful as ever, dressed smartly in a dark jacket and scarf, with the winter wind having added just a slight flush to his cheeks. He seemed to be in a fairly contemplative frame of mind, assuming the moody silence that had marked the very beginning of their friendship. So distracted by her nerves and desperate to regain the easiness that had been between them before he'd kissed her, she'd begun chattering away and bounding after him like an energetic puppy, barely noticing until they were sitting down that he'd ushered her into one of the stuffy tea shops off the High Street that she'd never really cared for.
And now, they were sitting in awkward silence, staring at each other over steaming cups of tea. Her broomstick was propped against the window beside their table, and as all conversation seemed to have become impossible between the two, she couldn't help but stare at it longingly, thinking of how the cold, crisp air would feel against her skin. Blaise seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and Ginny's stilted attempts to encourage him to talk kept failing. He'd response with a few disinterested words, and Ginny couldn't help but sense that he seemed to be bored and completely uninterested in everything that was happening around him.
She sighed.
"Seriously, what's going on in that head of yours?" Ginny finally asked, feeling a bit exasperated by his silence after her latest attempt to get him talking had failed. He met her eyes, blinking in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten that she was there.
"What makes you think that there's something going on?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow and a sly tone to his voice. Ginny frowned.
"Don't talk like that, I don't like it," she said coldly. "Just be yourself, not the version of you that you present to girls who you don't know very well. I'm not Georgia, and if you insist on treating me like I am, I will get up and leave."
Blaise looked at her, and the fake smile dissolved into a genuine one, and he leaned forward, suddenly engaged.
"Tell me, Weasley. How on earth have you and Malfoy gotten on for so long without killing each other?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with laughter.
"There have been a few near misses," Ginny said solemnly, before smiling. "When he first asked me out - well, demanded that I meet him, more like - I was certain that he was challenging me to a duel. A duel! Then we were locked in the Astronomy Tower overnight. And there was the incident with Claire - although, that wasn't nearly us trying to kill each other as Claire trying to kill Malfoy, although we argued with each other most of the way through it."
"Remarkable that you're both still alive," he said, with a warm smile.
She remembered what Malfoy had told her when he'd flatly rejected the idea that they could ever be just friends with each other. "There's too much passion, too much energy between us. We're either going to be a pair of passionate lovers, the kind they write epic stories about, or we're going to be mortal enemies, consumed only with the thought of destroying each other for the rest of our lives. Often, we'll probably be both at the same time. But we're never going to be just friends."
She shivered involuntarily, recalling the smoothness of his voice, the cool confidence in his eyes as he'd spoken them to her. Blaise leaned forward, meeting here eyes.
"Where did you go just now?" he asked, amused. She shook off the memory, but decided to share it with Zabini - eager to keep their previously stilted conversation alive, now that there was a topic they could both discuss with energy and enthusiasm.
"Do you know what he told me once? He said that it was like we were destined to either be great lovers or mortal enemies - and that we'll often be both at the same time," she said confidingly.
"Typical Draco. Always speaking in superlatives and absolutes," Blaise laughed.
"I'm positive that it's how he gets everything he wants. He just keeps stating it as an absolute truth until reality shifts to suit his whim," she said, her eyes sparkling as she remembered all the times she'd adamantly refused him something, only to find herself doing it anyway.
"People most often assume that he's incredibly good at getting what he wants, but the truth is that he's just incredibly talented at making it impossible to do anything other than what he wants. He's been born into it, and to him, getting what he wants is as natural as breathing," Blaise explained.
"It sounds like you're making excuses for him," Ginny said with a frown. "Have you even spoken to him at all since that night on the beach?"
"Ha! No thank you. I rather like my face the way it is, and I should hope that you do as well," he said, laughing. "I'm actually surprised he hasn't confronted me yet, but I know he will. We fight over things all the time - have ever since we were little. He's always wanting things he can't have, and takes his disappointment out on those closest to him."
"You're incredibly important to him, you know," she said, looking down at her hands as she began to fidget. She couldn't help but notice that he'd inadvertently referred to her has a thing, but she tried to brush it off as an unthinking comment. "He doesn't have a lot of people in his life that he trusts."
"Don't tell me that you've bought his poor little rich boy act. Really, Weasley. I thought you were supposed to be clever!" Blaise said with a laugh, startling Ginny to look up at him with a surprised frown.
"What do you mean?" she asked, a cold jolt of horror running through her.
"Malfoy doesn't have a lot of people in his life that he trusts because he's a selfish, violent, ill-tempered and cold-hearted bastard. I can't believe I have to explain that to you, of all people. How many times has he almost gotten you killed?" Blaise demanded, clearly amused.
"Then why have you been friends with him your whole life, if he's so terrible?" she asked, bewildered. A storm of emotions was raging through her - she couldn't deny the truth of what Blaise was saying, but instinctively, she knew that it wasn't an accurate portrayal of him. And she was horrified that one of the few people that Malfoy cared about more than himself could speak so callously about him.
"He's entertaining, so long as you're on his good side," Blaise said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. Ginny stared at him, unable to comprehend his indifference towards someone who was supposedly his best friend.
"If you're one of the people fortunate enough to be on his good side, he would recklessly throw himself in between you and absolutely anything that threatens you," Ginny snapped viciously, her eyes ignited with anger. "He withstood the Cruciatus curse repeatedly just because Claire threatened to scar my face, without even fighting back because they were threatening me."
"What's all this about?" Blaise asked mildly, and Ginny stared at him, shocked, as she felt her rage begin to build.
"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, slamming her hand down on the table in a display of fury. "Are you capable of feeling any emotion at all? You speak of Malfoy and his faults and all the things that make him an absolute terror to count among your friends, but he at least is capable of feeling anything! In fact, his biggest problem is that he feels everything too much - he feels it with every single part of him!"
"And you prefer that?" he asked, looking up at her drowsily, as if the effort of caring enough about her thoughts to ask her about it had exhausted him. She was incredulous at the sudden change in him - or, was it that Blaise had always been this indifferent to anyone that wasn't himself? Perhaps she had just been blind.
"Didn't you see his face?" she cried, unaware of the stares she was drawing from the other patrons. "How can you sit there and talk about him as if he were inconsequential to you? Your actions caused it - you kissed me and because of that, two people he cares about broke his heart. Yes, he's selfish. Yes, he's violent and ill-tempered. He's spoiled and extremely manipulative, and has an extremely irritating talent for getting what he wants and making it seem like it was your idea. But he's intensely loyal, and it would never even occur to him to do to you what you've done. And even if he did, he wouldn't be sitting here with an insufferable, infuriating bored expression on his face that I'm incredibly tempted to curse right off while talking as if his best friend meant nothing to him!"
With that, Ginny stood up, grabbed her broomstick and threw some coins down on the table. With one last, withering glare at her date, she stormed out of the tea shop.
* * * * * *
Flying always seemed to make her feel better. The wind was quite wild and it had taken all her concentration to hold her broom in check - exactly the kind of flight she loved. The exertion had stretched out her sore muscles, and even though by the time she set down on the Quidditch field her hands were shaking with exhaustion, the fresh air and blissful 90 minutes free from her thoughts had left her feeling refreshed, as if she'd just woke up from a long nap.
"Of all the places you can fly on that broomstick of yours, this is where you come?" Blaise said. She's spotted him out of the corner of her eye, sprawled lazily across the stands, leaning back while watching her.
"Too many regulations in town - how fast you can fly, how high, what time of day. But there's no one out here to hold me back," she said as she walked over to him. "What brings you here?"
"Knew I'd find you out here," he said with a shrug. She set down her broomstick and sat down next to him, having worked off most of her anger. Blaise had always the events happening around him with a high degree of disinterest, and it was part of what she'd been attracted to. She'd just thought perhaps he'd changed a little, since going off after Cho. Ginny had seen the way he'd treated Cho Chang, and it had been with anything but disinterest - it was a surprise that perhaps that didn't apply to anyone else, not even Malfoy. But there was also a strange suspicion taking root in the back of her mind, and now that she'd had a chance to clear her head, it only seemed to grow stronger.
"You mean I haven't frightened you away with my shocking temper tantrum?" she said, with a cautious laugh. He smiled at her, and answered with a shrug. "I had a bit of a bad day yesterday, and I guess you were the person unlucky enough to catch the full force of my anger."
"Oh, I think there was more to it than that," Blaise said, casting her a sidelong glance. "Most of what you said was fairly accurate."
"You're right, it was. And I think I said it because I'm confused, Zabini," she said with a heavy sigh. He raised an eyebrow, noting that she'd reverted to calling him by his surname. "The whole mess has been fairly confusing, and I can't help but wonder if there's something more going on than I know about."
"What makes you say that?" he asked. She stared at him for a long moment, a deep, penetrating look.
"Mostly because, despite my sometimes rash actions that would lead one to think otherwise, I'm a frightfully clever witch," she said slowly. She stood up, turning to face him. He was staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. Deciding that she was never going to have a moment's peace again unless she eliminated that growing suspicion from her mind, she grabbed his hand, and tugged at it until he stood up.
She looked up at him, gracing him with her most winning smile, as she moved in closer. He looked down at her with a sly smile on his face, undoubtedly suspecting what he had in mind. He bent his head over hers and reached a hand up to lift her chin towards him. She placed her hand against his chest.
"Are you testing me, Ginny?" he asked softly. She answered him with a wicked grin, before she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
After a quick moment, she pulled away slowly, and met her friend's eyes.
"Well, that answers that," Ginny said, with a shrug. Zabini titled his head, frowning at her.
"Answers what?" he asked, his voice rough.
"I think you know very well, Zabini," she answered brightly. She then, suddenly, slugged him on the shoulder, in the same manner that she often caught the Slytherin boys doing as a silly gesture of friendship she never understood. "This has been fun, but I have my own best friend in need of both a lecture and some forgiveness. Thanks for reminding me about that."
"Wait, Ginny!" he called after her, clearly surprised by her suddenness of her departure. "Where are you going?"
"I told you already!" she called back. She paused as she mounted her broom. "Oh, hey, Zabini!"
"Yes, Weasley?"
"If you ever again underestimate me or my intelligence, or try to use me in any kind of scheme without my consent, I promise you that you'll be very sorry," she said coldly. A laugh erupted from him at this threat, but when her face remained impassively cold, the laugh died in his throat, and he nodded.
She kicked off her broomstick, and left him staring up at her as she flew away.
* * * * * *
Hermione had experienced a rather unpleasant day. Madame Rosmerta had treated her with an unusual iciness, and most of the rest of the staff had avoided speaking to her unless absolutely necessary. A very sensible girl, Hermione was not often affected by this kind of behaviour, having experienced some rather brutal displays of prejudice against her due to her parents being Muggles, but Ginny's brief visit to the restaurant in the early afternoon, without trading any kind of conciliatory gesture, had left her feeling quite low, and made everyone else's censure more difficult to bear.
When Rosmerta had dismissed her just as it was starting to get dark and the street lamps were beginning to glow, she had retreated gratefully. She had a long, solitary evening planned, wanting to finish a few chapters of the Arithmancy textbook she'd obtained and to begin planning a new assignment that was due within a few weeks, and this ordinarily would have made her quite happy. But, seeing that she and Ginny would often spend their free Saturday nights rather cozily holed up in her room (as hers had the luxury of a working fireplace while Ginny's did not), studying and chatting over steaming mugs of tea and whatever baked treat Mrs. Weasley had sent that week, Hermione was hardly looking forward to it at all.
When she saw Ginny waiting in the street, she stopped in her tracks, all thoughts of textbooks and essays retreating from her mind. Ginny, spotting her, hurried over, her breath coming in white puffs of steam in the cold air.
"Can we agree that we're both wrong, but that it doesn't matter any more?" Ginny asked in a rush as she threw her arms around her friend. "Hermione, you're my dearest friend, and I don't know how I'd survive without you."
"Oh Ginny," Hermione sobbed, unable to contain her emotions any longer. It had been a horrible, long and lonely day, and she was so relieved to not only reconcile with Ginny, but to see that she was alright and put to rest worries that had haunted her since Ginny had limped away from the Three Broomsticks the previous night.
"Blimey, it's cold out! Fancy a Butterbeer? My treat! Consider it your just reward for the story I'm about to make you sit through! You won't believe the day that I've had," Ginny said, leading Hermione down the street, feeling infinitely lighter than she had all day.
* * * * * *
Draco Malfoy, having succeeded in frightening off the only two friends he had who had been brave enough to see him that day, was nursing a glass of Fire Whiskey and staring at the dusty wall of the private room in the Hogs Head. The whiskey was sub-par, but as the bartender had told him, the quality drink was becoming harder to procure and if it wasn't good enough for the underaged Slytherin, then he could drink elsewhere.
Despite his ill-humour, he had to acknowledge the rather heroic effort that Crabbe and Goyle had undertaken to distract their miserable friend. He wasn't sure how they knew, but they'd appeared just after noon, dragging a seething Draco from his bed, throwing him into the shower, and pulling him unwillingly along with them to the pub. Of course, the miscreants had spend a few minutes too many laughing at his expense, having never seen their esteemed friend nursing a hangover, but they promised a drink or two would help cure him of that ailment.
A few games of Wizards' chess and a few rounds of whiskey had incrementally improved his mood, but when Goyle foolishly tried to bring round the topic to Blaise, Malfoy's careful measure of control had combusted into all the rage that he was feeling.
"Malfoy, enough!" Crabbe said, slamming his hands down on the table. "Have you even thought about what kind of position you're putting Goyle and I in with all of this nonsense? You can be pissed all you want at Zabini - hell, I'm ready to take a swing at him myself, but if you don't stop taking it out on the two of us, you're going to suddenly find yourself without a single friend in this city!"
Crabbe had turned and stormed down the stairs, barking at the wait staff that Malfoy would be taking care of his bill before marching out of the pub. Goyle had sighed, wondering out loud why he couldn't have made friends with any sane people. Before he followed, he'd pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and left it on the table.
"Quit thinking with that black heart of yours, and start thinking with your brain, and maybe it will all become clear," Goyle said.
And now Draco was sitting in the semi-dark of the fading afternoon sun, drinking shoddy whiskey all alone. His misery was hanging about him like an incredibly heavy cloak that he was too weak to shake off. Recalling the way she'd cried out when he touched her, he was unable to banish the sound from his mind, and the swill in his glass wasn't helping to block it out like he had supposed it would.
Pensively, he studied the paper, and recalling Goyle's stinging assertion that he start thinking with his brain, he picked it up.
It didn't take him long to find out what Goyle wanted him to see. He read through the article quickly and spared only a moment's glance at the accompanying photo before tossing the newspaper aside, a cold fury burning every one of his nerve endings. Propping one leg up on the chair in front of him, he leaned back and sipped his drink, wondering what he should do next.
The bell above the door of the pub jingled, and he could hear two sets of footsteps and a pair of female voices echoing up to where he sat.
"Ginny, why don't we just go to the Three Broomsticks?" that Mudblood friend of Weasley's asked. Draco sat up straight in his chair, quite unsure of what to do with himself. He grabbed his wand, contemplating Disapparating far away, but as his eyes flicked to the discarded newspaper, he was just as compelled to stay where he was.
"And pay Rosmerta's prices for Butterbeer? Goodness no. Her patrons don't tip me well enough for that kind of extravagance. Besides, there will be too many people there I have absolutely no desire to see right now. I can just see Parkinson sitting there, waiting to pounce on me like she always is," Weasley said with a laugh. They had walked to the furthest end of the pub, and Draco could hear the sound of them pulling out chairs, and he figured they were sitting practically beneath where he was sitting. "Oy, Aberforth! Two Butterbeers, please! And mind you dust off the bottles this time, or I'll send them right back."
"Are you sure you're all right? I've been pretty worried about you," the Mudblood asked, her voice dropping. Draco strained to hear more.
"Mostly. A touch sore here and there, and I have some lovely bruises to testify to the strength of our noble Death Eaters' consternation for my actions, but nothing serious," Weasley said, her voice tight, belying the truth. Draco frowned, startled as he took in this news. After a moment , his fist clenched involuntarily as the pieces snapped into place in his mind - suddenly, everything about the way she had acted the previous night made sense, and the truth of it - and how blind he'd been - burned.
"How about we turn to a happier topic - one that's much safer to discuss in public?"
"Of course, you must be dying to tell me about your date with Blaise Zabini," the Mudblood said, and Draco was so gratified by her bringing up the topic, he tried to remember her name so he could stop referring to her as 'the Mudblood'.
He gave up any pretense of leaving and, recalling a handy charm that Tonks had taught him when they used to sneak out of their bedrooms and listen to the absurd conversation taking place during his parents' frequent parties at the house in London, he threw back the contents of his glass. Feeling the alcohol burn as ran it down his throat, he cast a charm to amplify noise, and the glass up to his ear, vowing he'd murder anyone who interrupted his self-interested act of espionage.
* * * * * *
"Hmm, I thought asked for a happier topic," Ginny said with a sigh. "It was a proper date, all right. We had tea, which I nearly picked up and tossed in his face, and ran out on him after scolding him rather spectacularly."
"Sounds like most of the dates you've had with Malfoy," Hermione commented with a sly grin.
"How absurd, of course not! Because, you know, we've never really been on a conventional date, so it's hardly fair to compare it. But at least when I quarreled with him, Malfoy had the decency to argue back."
"Zabini didn't?"
"That would require too much effort, and I think he'd exhausted it all, setting up the situation to begin with," Ginny said, a hard edge to her voice.
Hermione stared at her friend, and anything she could have said was interrupted as a waitress brought over their drinks. Ginny sipped hers and appeared to be lost in thought. Knowing her friend too well to press her for more information until she was ready, Hermione kept quiet, waiting for Ginny to continue.
"Have you read the Daily Prophet yet today? I read through it while I was waiting for you to finish work," Ginny said. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out an article she'd torn from the copy she'd found on the bench near where she'd waited, and handed it over to Hermione.
"Cho Chang is engaged? But I thought that she and Zabini..." Hermione trailed off, studying her friend's face. Ginny was looking down at the table, her fingers playing with the label on her Butterbeer bottle.
"No doubt he did too, but at least it explains what brought him back so suddenly to Hogwarts," Ginny said quietly. After a moment's reflection, she looked up at Hermione. There was a hollow look in her eyes, the one that Ginny rarely let show, but that Hermione recognized - the one that spoke of a grim understanding of the world she lived in.
"It's terribly mortifying to admit it, but one smile from a beautiful Slytherin boy combined with the far-fetched notion that he may actually fancy me, and I forgot the one thing I reminded myself daily since I set foot in that school," she said. "To the Slytherins, life is just one giant chess match. Which means, unfortunately for the lowly pawns of the world, that every single person is just a game piece to them."
"Surely not to all of them see the world that way," Hermione said softly, placing a comforting hand on Ginny's. Ginny smiled faintly, but there was a faraway look in her eye.
"I've yet to meet one... It's rather unjust, don't you think? We live in a world where fairies exist but where fairy tale endings don't. At least not for someone like me," she said wryly, taking a swig of her drink. "When I kiss the prince, I turn into a pawn - only it turns out that I was one all along."
A loud crack echoed throughout the pub, and the two girls jumped, their nerves still on high alert from the previous night. Hermione looked about, trying to find the source of the noise, while Ginny's eyes instinctively searched for the nearest exit.
"Just someone Disapparating," the waitress said, waving off their concern. "Happens all the time with the sort that come in here."
After a few deep breaths to steady her racing heart beat, Ginny looked across the table at her friend, and noted that she was watching her with a rather concerned look on her face. She gave her a smile, and decided to share something with her that would lighten the tone of their conversation.
"Would you like to know what I'm really quite angry about? It's irrational, really, and totally ridiculous, but I'm infuriated by the idea that he spoiled my record."
"What do you mean, record?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"My record. The times, situations and places where I've kissed someone. And the list of people. Zabini's kind of ruined it. I mean, the first kiss was hardly ideal, trick mistletoe and all, but the second... oh Hermione, the second one in a moonlit fairy garden? And that peck outside the school the morning after we escaped from the Astronomy Tower shouldn't really count, but the time in the Three Broomsticks... I pushed him off the bench that time," Ginny recalled with a sigh, a slight smile on her lips. "There was the time at the ball or on the island... even last night. Most of the time, I was furious with him, often surprised - he does like to catch a girl off guard! Sometimes we were teasing each other or screaming at each other... It doesn't seem to matter, though, because every single kiss was rather... magical."
"Ginny..." Hermione trailed off, at a loss for what to say. Ginny's cheeks were blazing red, and she put her hands to her face in embarassment.
"Oh, goodness, that was mortifying to say out loud! I can't believe I did. But there you have it. I had a perfect snog record - how many girls could say that? Zabini ruined it, and I'm quite put out by it," she said with a laugh.
"You're right, that is a rather ridiculous thing for you to be angry about!" Hermione agreed. "I think we're going to need more Butterbeer over here."
* * * * * *
Crabbe and Goyle had spent the larger part of their evening lamenting the strong-headed idiocy of their dear friend Malfoy, and the relaxed obliviousness of Zabini over a few pints at the Three Broomsticks. At turns amused and incensed, they ultimately decided that the best plan - short of contriving a way to maroon them both in Siberia without their wands, which after sober reflection, was deemed too complicated and re-purposed as a longer-term objective - was to send an owl to Malfoy's esteemed cousin, who would surely breeze back into town and bash both of their heads together until they started speaking sense again.
Congratulating themselves on their innovative thinking, they charmed a sheet of parchment paper and a quill from Rosmerta and dashed off their note. Stumbling, full of high spirits now that their main source of unease was about to be settled, they made their way to the owlery and, if slightly beligerantly, arranged to send their note to Tonks.
They were quite pleased, after completing their mission and having decided to make their way over to All Hallows to celebrate with some pretty girls, to find one of the objects of their machinations wandering down the path between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.
"Zabini! Fancy seeing you out tonight - we were just talking about you!" Goyle called out happily. Zabini looked up at them, as if surprised to see them, and shrugged.
"It's true. We just came to the conclusion that we needed to call in a higher power to rough up you and Malfoy until you agree to kiss and make up. We've had quite enough of this lovers' quarrel," Crabbe agreed solemnly. Zabini just looked at his friends and shrugged slightly, unperturbed by their threats.
Crabbe and Goyle wandered along behind him, competing over the best insults for their two offending friends and attempting to cajole Zabini into joining them at All Hallows.
"C'mon, mate. It'll be the best cure to rid your brain of that Quidditch-playing harpy who went and got engaged behind your back," Goyle said, tossing his arm around Zabini's shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off.
"Don't talk about her that way," Zabini said, his eyes flashing.
"So that's how it is," a cold voice said, and they all turned to see Malfoy standing a little way ahead of them. Crabbe and Goyle took one look at his face, and both instinctively reached for their wands. They could only recall ever once seeing that degree of fury on his face. His smaller bursts of temper were often grandiose and explosive, but burned out quickly. It was when his voice took on that patient, dangerously cold drawl that one really needed to worry, as it concealed a deadly rage.
To the casual observer, there wouldn't have been anything particularly foreboding about Draco Malfoy in that moment. He was leaning, arms crossed, against the stone wall of the alleyway ahead of them, half-obscured by the dim light and his dark clothing. But he was tapping his wand against one forearm in a seemingly idle manner and there was a piercing glint in his eyes as they fell on his former best friend that was positively frightening to those who knew him best.
"Oh, does it really matter to you Draco? Certainly didn't matter to Weasley," Zabini said, slyly raising an insinuating eyebrow.
"Blaise..." Crabbe warned, his voice pleading.
"Oh, come on, Crabbe - it's obviously taken Malfoy all day to work himself up to the hissy fit he's about to unleash on us. It's about time, too, because I, frankly, am sick of you making such a fool of yourself over that silly Weasley girl," Zabini said.
"You've become quite good at lying. When did that happen?" Malfoy asked.
"Maybe I always have been, and you've just been too thick to notice. The Weasley girl certainly was. Oh come on, Malfoy. Two months ago you would have been killing yourself laughing about the plain little peasant girl who actually thought one of us fancied her. Where did your sense of humour go?" Zabini said, his voice harsh and sarcastic. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged worried glances, and backed away, moving out of Malfoy's range.
"Weasley isn't plain, and one of us does fancy her," Malfoy said, his voice steady as he stepped forward.
"Now who is the liar, Malfoy? You honestly expect us to believe that you're in love with such a common, ordinary girl?" Zabini asked, his voice incredulous. "Except that she isn't just ordinary, is she? Even worse, she's also blood traitor and revolutionary! You're only pursuing this because she's the best way to punish your parents."
"And why exactly have you been pursuing her?" Malfoy asked, titling his head in what could have been construed as mild curiosity if it weren't for the cold hostility in his voice.
"Well, it's not like I had to try very hard," Zabini said with a shrug. "A few smiles and knowing looks, and she was practically throwing herself at me... so pathetic."
Malfoy just stared at him for a long moment, as if he were deciding what to do. He moved back a step, and made a movement as if to turn and walk away, but then, in the space of a blink, he swung back and punched Zabini, connecting his fist right below his left jawline.
Zabini's head snapped back with a terrible crack, and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground in a heap.
"Pathetic?" Malfoy growled, shaking his hand.
"Oh, you know her act - strong and independent, yet lonely and fragile outcast," Zabini said, his voice ragged. He sat up and gingerly touched his chin with a wince. "It would actually be rather manipulative, the way that she draws you in only to shove you away... if only she were capable of manipulating anyone. Although she's certainly been quite adept at manipulating you."
"Oh, I think you've proven to be the most manipulative among us," Malfoy shot back. "But I have to ask - has all of this been satisfying? So Cho ripped out your heart and sent you home. Has everything you've done since you came limping back to Hogsmeade a broken man been worth it?"
"Perhaps if it had actually been difficult. Why can't you make that girl love you? It was harder to make her realize that I could care less about her than it was to make her like me. As I said, pathetic."
"She may not want me, but I'm not going to let you turn her into a pawn for whatever pathetic revenge you've cooked up just because I want her," Malfoy said. "If you hurt her again, I'll destroy you."
"But you make it so easy, Malfoy. I have to hand it to the girl, one of her redeeming qualities is her fabulous predilection for rejecting you over and over again. It's so refreshing to see you obsessed with quite possibly the only girl in the world who would really rather have nothing to do with you."
"Better than a woman who fled the continent to get away from you so she could marry someone else," Malfoy said darkly. With one last glare at his former friend, he turned and started to walk away, his hands shaking with rage he was still struggling to contain. He heard the telltale crunch of snow, and turned back just in time as Zabini lunged for him, and the two tumbled to the ground.
* * * * *
Crabbe and Goyle watched with exasperated amusement as the two wrestled around, rolling in the snow, occasionally landing a blow.
"Foolish of Blaise to wait to attack while Draco's back was turned," Goyle commented, leaning casually against the wall.
"It's true. After that time when we were 12, Malfoy's always expects it," Crabbe said. A wave of snow kicked up as Malfoy, scrambling to extricate himself from Zabini's grip, flung him backwards into a snow drift.
"At least Malfoy's holding back. Can't imagine what would happen if he wasn't," Goyle said dryly. Crabbe dusted a sprinkling of snow off his shoulder, and continued to watch.
"Idiots," Crabbe muttered.
Malfoy managed to get in three heavy blows before Zabini managed to throw him back. Panting, Malfoy crouched in the snow, staring at his opponent, whose lip was split and nose was gushing blood. Zabini had managed a few good shots to face, and his eye felt swollen. No doubt he'd have quite the black eye in a few hours.
"Really, Malfoy? Is she really worth all of this?" Zabini asked, his voice rough. Malfoy stared at him, his expression so intense, Zabini seemed to draw back slightly, as if startled.
"I should be asking you the same thing," Malfoy drawled, his voice icy cold. "You've only done all this because I'm the one that sent you off after Cho in the first place. She's the one who ripped out your heart and stomped all over it with her designer Quidditch boots."
"You only sent me off to get me out your way so you could move in on Weasley!" Zabini shouted, jumping up to his feet.
"Of course that's why I did it!" Malfoy exploded, jumping up and lunging at his friend, his knee colliding with Zabini's stomach in one fluid motion. "I had to get you out of the way. If our roles were reversed, you would have done exactly the same thing!"
"You may be right. But, I know something that you don't," Zabini grunted, catching Malfoy's jaw with a right hook. He stumbled backwards. Slowly straightening out, he wiped a trickle of blood from his lip.
"Then please, enlighten me," Malfoy hissed dangerously.
"We had plenty of time to talk this afternoon," Zabini said, his tone suggestive. He tried to sidestep Malfoy's sudden and vicious strike, but Malfoy was too quick and managed to land the blow.
"Malfoy, this is all starting to get very dull. Haven't you had enough yet?" Goyle called, growing irritated.
"Only problem was," Zabini said, regaining his balance by planting his heavy arms on Malfoy's shoulders, steadying himself as he met his friend's eyes - his stone-cold eyes. "Was that she only stopped talking about you long enough to yell at me for being a horrible friend to you."
"What difference does that make?" Malfoy shouted, struggling to free himself from his grip. He wasn't done yet, his skin was still positively crackling with unspent anger. "Her actions don't absolve yours. I'm shockingly perceptive, Zabini. I know how she feels, even if she won't admit it to anyone - I don't need you to tell me that, and I won't let you use her - in any way."
"Malfoy, just listen," Zabini said, his voice insistent enough to break through Malfoy's rage. He frowned, and nodded, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Zabini to know that he was listening. He leaned in, aware that there was always an audience in this city. "You may know how she feels, but neither of you know how much. Her Patronus... it was a dragon."
Malfoy stiffened, as if jolted by electricity. He backed off, violently shrugging off Zabini's arms. Malfoy used emotional displays with the same precision as a weapon - it was very rare that he lost control, and on the occasions he did, it was because his anger got the better of him. Blaise, while physically exhausted, watched in fascination as a range of emotions crossed his friend's face and he struggled to conceal them.
A Patronus was a wizard's best defense, a concentrated burst of pure happiness aimed to protect from the abject hopelessness of Dementors. While not always the case, a Patronus was thought represent, in one way or another, the source of that happiness.
Malfoy closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, before opening them again, seemingly having regained his composure.
"You saw it?" he asked, his voice quiet. There was a glint of such desperate hope in his eyes, it was almost painful for Blaise to see it.
"I did. I saw it," he answered, straightening up. Malfoy's eyes widened, and he looked away, smiling to himself, almost in disbelief. Blaise felt himself relax slightly, even as his injuries began to ache. Perhaps it had been worth it after all.
But then Malfoy turned back, a puzzled look crossing his face. He stepped towards Blaise, his head cocked slightly, as if he were trying to work out a serious problem. Blaise could tell the exact moment when whatever he was figuring clicked into place, as Malfoy's eyes snapped up to meet his, a frighteningly cold look of fury on his face.
And then he attacked.
Blaise had barely enough time to throw his arms up to protect his face before a rain of vicious blows fell on him, too quick for him to fend off.
"What the hell?" Blaise grunted, baffled by the sudden attack. Something had changed - Malfoy's intensity and viciousness was ratcheted up to a whole new level.
"If you saw the whole thing, that means you were there," Malfoy raged. Unable to defend himself, Blaise fell to the ground. "And if you were there, that means you just watched. You just stood there and let that happen."
"Oy, Malfoy! What are you doing?" Crabbe shouted, the intensity of this new fight interrupting their disinterest. He and Goyle dashed forward, as Malfoy began kicking Blaise, who was lying on his side and curling into himself, trying to protect his vital organs.
"He's gone mad!" Goyle called out. They each grabbed an arm, and tried to drag him away, Malfoy thrashing around with a mindless violence that worried them both.
"We have to stop him - remember what happened last time he was like this?" Crabbe grunted as they struggled to pull him away from Blaise.
"If you were ever my friend, you would have done something!" Draco shouted.
"It would have made it worse," Blaise moaned from the ground. "You know that."
"Malfoy, stop!" Crabbe commanded, but he was too far gone. He wrenched his arms free, and he fell on Blaise again with a violent, bone-chilling determination.
* * * * *
Ginny and Hermione heard the shouting from almost a block away. They glanced at each other with a shrug and continued to make their way towards Hermione's flat, although they both quickened their pace, wanting to be safely indoors if there was trouble brewing.
"Malfoy, stop!"
Ginny stopped in her tracks. Hermione, who'd kept walking, turned back to her when she realized Ginny was no longer beside her.
"Ginny," she said with a warning tone. The echos of the shouting voices continued, and Ginny looked about her, trying to figure out where they were coming from. She was frozen, undecided and fighting competing instincts. The first was to follow Hermione, to run with her as fast as they could until they were inside four safe walls and could lock out the rest of the world. The second, the strongest, was to follow the sound of the shouting, to find him.
"Ginny, keep walking," Hermione commanded, seeing the struggle on her face. Another burst of shouting broke out and Ginny startled, zeroing in on the location the sounds were coming from.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I just... I have to," she said apologetically, and took off running.
A/N:
Sorry for the cliffhanger - more to come soon.
For those of you who are familiar with Hana Yori Dango, the inspiration behind this fic, the "main events" from HYD in this chapter: Ginny & Blaise's terrible date, and the show-down between Draco and Blaise, and the fact that Cho's engaged being discovered via print media. Characterizations have taken huge departures from the HYD plot - everyone in this fic have VERY different (and quite complex, in some cases) motives.
If Ginny was exhausted, emotionally numb and terribly sore from her misadventures the night before, her outward appearance when she met Blaise Zabini outside the Three Broomsticks certainly didn't show it. She greeted him enthusiastically, seemingly full to bursting with nervous energy. If there were dark circles under her eyes, a tightness about her mouth and a stiffness of movement in her step, Blaise seemed happily ignorant of it.
She'd popped her head briefly into the Three Broomsticks, to reassure herself that things had been set to right after the ordeal the previous night. All the tables and chairs were back in their rightful spots, and there was no broken glass littered about. A steely-faced Hermione was standing behind the bar, meeting her friend's eyes with a cool nod before turning away and treating her to a bout of silence. Rosmerta had shaken her head at the girl, demanded to know what she was doing out when she should have been at home resting and ordered her not to get into any trouble.
"I don't get into trouble. Trouble just has a special knack for finding me," Ginny had laughed brightly, trying (and failing) to present a light-hearted front. Rosmerta needed to believe that she was truly alright, otherwise Ginny had no doubt she'd be owling her parents, and who knows what would happen from there.
"Well, see that you keep away from it for at least a little while. If either of you," Rosmerta said, with a pointed look in Hermione's direction, "bring that kind of trouble into my establishment again, I'll send you both off packing without hesitation."
Ginny had laughed, and played off the whole situation with feigned breezy indifference, and practically skipped outside to wait for Blaise. She'd brought her broomstick, hoping that she could talk him into flying for awhile. Her stomach was a mass of panicked knots, and she really wanted some time in the air to clear her mind. She couldn't figure out what she was so nervous about - her and Blaise had developed enough of a friendship now, and had many easy-going conversations, that her unease made little sense.
But it was there, nonetheless. When he walked up to her, she thought that her stomach would jump into her throat. He was as beautiful as ever, dressed smartly in a dark jacket and scarf, with the winter wind having added just a slight flush to his cheeks. He seemed to be in a fairly contemplative frame of mind, assuming the moody silence that had marked the very beginning of their friendship. So distracted by her nerves and desperate to regain the easiness that had been between them before he'd kissed her, she'd begun chattering away and bounding after him like an energetic puppy, barely noticing until they were sitting down that he'd ushered her into one of the stuffy tea shops off the High Street that she'd never really cared for.
And now, they were sitting in awkward silence, staring at each other over steaming cups of tea. Her broomstick was propped against the window beside their table, and as all conversation seemed to have become impossible between the two, she couldn't help but stare at it longingly, thinking of how the cold, crisp air would feel against her skin. Blaise seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and Ginny's stilted attempts to encourage him to talk kept failing. He'd response with a few disinterested words, and Ginny couldn't help but sense that he seemed to be bored and completely uninterested in everything that was happening around him.
She sighed.
"Seriously, what's going on in that head of yours?" Ginny finally asked, feeling a bit exasperated by his silence after her latest attempt to get him talking had failed. He met her eyes, blinking in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten that she was there.
"What makes you think that there's something going on?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow and a sly tone to his voice. Ginny frowned.
"Don't talk like that, I don't like it," she said coldly. "Just be yourself, not the version of you that you present to girls who you don't know very well. I'm not Georgia, and if you insist on treating me like I am, I will get up and leave."
Blaise looked at her, and the fake smile dissolved into a genuine one, and he leaned forward, suddenly engaged.
"Tell me, Weasley. How on earth have you and Malfoy gotten on for so long without killing each other?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with laughter.
"There have been a few near misses," Ginny said solemnly, before smiling. "When he first asked me out - well, demanded that I meet him, more like - I was certain that he was challenging me to a duel. A duel! Then we were locked in the Astronomy Tower overnight. And there was the incident with Claire - although, that wasn't nearly us trying to kill each other as Claire trying to kill Malfoy, although we argued with each other most of the way through it."
"Remarkable that you're both still alive," he said, with a warm smile.
She remembered what Malfoy had told her when he'd flatly rejected the idea that they could ever be just friends with each other. "There's too much passion, too much energy between us. We're either going to be a pair of passionate lovers, the kind they write epic stories about, or we're going to be mortal enemies, consumed only with the thought of destroying each other for the rest of our lives. Often, we'll probably be both at the same time. But we're never going to be just friends."
She shivered involuntarily, recalling the smoothness of his voice, the cool confidence in his eyes as he'd spoken them to her. Blaise leaned forward, meeting here eyes.
"Where did you go just now?" he asked, amused. She shook off the memory, but decided to share it with Zabini - eager to keep their previously stilted conversation alive, now that there was a topic they could both discuss with energy and enthusiasm.
"Do you know what he told me once? He said that it was like we were destined to either be great lovers or mortal enemies - and that we'll often be both at the same time," she said confidingly.
"Typical Draco. Always speaking in superlatives and absolutes," Blaise laughed.
"I'm positive that it's how he gets everything he wants. He just keeps stating it as an absolute truth until reality shifts to suit his whim," she said, her eyes sparkling as she remembered all the times she'd adamantly refused him something, only to find herself doing it anyway.
"People most often assume that he's incredibly good at getting what he wants, but the truth is that he's just incredibly talented at making it impossible to do anything other than what he wants. He's been born into it, and to him, getting what he wants is as natural as breathing," Blaise explained.
"It sounds like you're making excuses for him," Ginny said with a frown. "Have you even spoken to him at all since that night on the beach?"
"Ha! No thank you. I rather like my face the way it is, and I should hope that you do as well," he said, laughing. "I'm actually surprised he hasn't confronted me yet, but I know he will. We fight over things all the time - have ever since we were little. He's always wanting things he can't have, and takes his disappointment out on those closest to him."
"You're incredibly important to him, you know," she said, looking down at her hands as she began to fidget. She couldn't help but notice that he'd inadvertently referred to her has a thing, but she tried to brush it off as an unthinking comment. "He doesn't have a lot of people in his life that he trusts."
"Don't tell me that you've bought his poor little rich boy act. Really, Weasley. I thought you were supposed to be clever!" Blaise said with a laugh, startling Ginny to look up at him with a surprised frown.
"What do you mean?" she asked, a cold jolt of horror running through her.
"Malfoy doesn't have a lot of people in his life that he trusts because he's a selfish, violent, ill-tempered and cold-hearted bastard. I can't believe I have to explain that to you, of all people. How many times has he almost gotten you killed?" Blaise demanded, clearly amused.
"Then why have you been friends with him your whole life, if he's so terrible?" she asked, bewildered. A storm of emotions was raging through her - she couldn't deny the truth of what Blaise was saying, but instinctively, she knew that it wasn't an accurate portrayal of him. And she was horrified that one of the few people that Malfoy cared about more than himself could speak so callously about him.
"He's entertaining, so long as you're on his good side," Blaise said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. Ginny stared at him, unable to comprehend his indifference towards someone who was supposedly his best friend.
"If you're one of the people fortunate enough to be on his good side, he would recklessly throw himself in between you and absolutely anything that threatens you," Ginny snapped viciously, her eyes ignited with anger. "He withstood the Cruciatus curse repeatedly just because Claire threatened to scar my face, without even fighting back because they were threatening me."
"What's all this about?" Blaise asked mildly, and Ginny stared at him, shocked, as she felt her rage begin to build.
"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, slamming her hand down on the table in a display of fury. "Are you capable of feeling any emotion at all? You speak of Malfoy and his faults and all the things that make him an absolute terror to count among your friends, but he at least is capable of feeling anything! In fact, his biggest problem is that he feels everything too much - he feels it with every single part of him!"
"And you prefer that?" he asked, looking up at her drowsily, as if the effort of caring enough about her thoughts to ask her about it had exhausted him. She was incredulous at the sudden change in him - or, was it that Blaise had always been this indifferent to anyone that wasn't himself? Perhaps she had just been blind.
"Didn't you see his face?" she cried, unaware of the stares she was drawing from the other patrons. "How can you sit there and talk about him as if he were inconsequential to you? Your actions caused it - you kissed me and because of that, two people he cares about broke his heart. Yes, he's selfish. Yes, he's violent and ill-tempered. He's spoiled and extremely manipulative, and has an extremely irritating talent for getting what he wants and making it seem like it was your idea. But he's intensely loyal, and it would never even occur to him to do to you what you've done. And even if he did, he wouldn't be sitting here with an insufferable, infuriating bored expression on his face that I'm incredibly tempted to curse right off while talking as if his best friend meant nothing to him!"
With that, Ginny stood up, grabbed her broomstick and threw some coins down on the table. With one last, withering glare at her date, she stormed out of the tea shop.
* * * * * *
Flying always seemed to make her feel better. The wind was quite wild and it had taken all her concentration to hold her broom in check - exactly the kind of flight she loved. The exertion had stretched out her sore muscles, and even though by the time she set down on the Quidditch field her hands were shaking with exhaustion, the fresh air and blissful 90 minutes free from her thoughts had left her feeling refreshed, as if she'd just woke up from a long nap.
"Of all the places you can fly on that broomstick of yours, this is where you come?" Blaise said. She's spotted him out of the corner of her eye, sprawled lazily across the stands, leaning back while watching her.
"Too many regulations in town - how fast you can fly, how high, what time of day. But there's no one out here to hold me back," she said as she walked over to him. "What brings you here?"
"Knew I'd find you out here," he said with a shrug. She set down her broomstick and sat down next to him, having worked off most of her anger. Blaise had always the events happening around him with a high degree of disinterest, and it was part of what she'd been attracted to. She'd just thought perhaps he'd changed a little, since going off after Cho. Ginny had seen the way he'd treated Cho Chang, and it had been with anything but disinterest - it was a surprise that perhaps that didn't apply to anyone else, not even Malfoy. But there was also a strange suspicion taking root in the back of her mind, and now that she'd had a chance to clear her head, it only seemed to grow stronger.
"You mean I haven't frightened you away with my shocking temper tantrum?" she said, with a cautious laugh. He smiled at her, and answered with a shrug. "I had a bit of a bad day yesterday, and I guess you were the person unlucky enough to catch the full force of my anger."
"Oh, I think there was more to it than that," Blaise said, casting her a sidelong glance. "Most of what you said was fairly accurate."
"You're right, it was. And I think I said it because I'm confused, Zabini," she said with a heavy sigh. He raised an eyebrow, noting that she'd reverted to calling him by his surname. "The whole mess has been fairly confusing, and I can't help but wonder if there's something more going on than I know about."
"What makes you say that?" he asked. She stared at him for a long moment, a deep, penetrating look.
"Mostly because, despite my sometimes rash actions that would lead one to think otherwise, I'm a frightfully clever witch," she said slowly. She stood up, turning to face him. He was staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. Deciding that she was never going to have a moment's peace again unless she eliminated that growing suspicion from her mind, she grabbed his hand, and tugged at it until he stood up.
She looked up at him, gracing him with her most winning smile, as she moved in closer. He looked down at her with a sly smile on his face, undoubtedly suspecting what he had in mind. He bent his head over hers and reached a hand up to lift her chin towards him. She placed her hand against his chest.
"Are you testing me, Ginny?" he asked softly. She answered him with a wicked grin, before she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
After a quick moment, she pulled away slowly, and met her friend's eyes.
"Well, that answers that," Ginny said, with a shrug. Zabini titled his head, frowning at her.
"Answers what?" he asked, his voice rough.
"I think you know very well, Zabini," she answered brightly. She then, suddenly, slugged him on the shoulder, in the same manner that she often caught the Slytherin boys doing as a silly gesture of friendship she never understood. "This has been fun, but I have my own best friend in need of both a lecture and some forgiveness. Thanks for reminding me about that."
"Wait, Ginny!" he called after her, clearly surprised by her suddenness of her departure. "Where are you going?"
"I told you already!" she called back. She paused as she mounted her broom. "Oh, hey, Zabini!"
"Yes, Weasley?"
"If you ever again underestimate me or my intelligence, or try to use me in any kind of scheme without my consent, I promise you that you'll be very sorry," she said coldly. A laugh erupted from him at this threat, but when her face remained impassively cold, the laugh died in his throat, and he nodded.
She kicked off her broomstick, and left him staring up at her as she flew away.
* * * * * *
Hermione had experienced a rather unpleasant day. Madame Rosmerta had treated her with an unusual iciness, and most of the rest of the staff had avoided speaking to her unless absolutely necessary. A very sensible girl, Hermione was not often affected by this kind of behaviour, having experienced some rather brutal displays of prejudice against her due to her parents being Muggles, but Ginny's brief visit to the restaurant in the early afternoon, without trading any kind of conciliatory gesture, had left her feeling quite low, and made everyone else's censure more difficult to bear.
When Rosmerta had dismissed her just as it was starting to get dark and the street lamps were beginning to glow, she had retreated gratefully. She had a long, solitary evening planned, wanting to finish a few chapters of the Arithmancy textbook she'd obtained and to begin planning a new assignment that was due within a few weeks, and this ordinarily would have made her quite happy. But, seeing that she and Ginny would often spend their free Saturday nights rather cozily holed up in her room (as hers had the luxury of a working fireplace while Ginny's did not), studying and chatting over steaming mugs of tea and whatever baked treat Mrs. Weasley had sent that week, Hermione was hardly looking forward to it at all.
When she saw Ginny waiting in the street, she stopped in her tracks, all thoughts of textbooks and essays retreating from her mind. Ginny, spotting her, hurried over, her breath coming in white puffs of steam in the cold air.
"Can we agree that we're both wrong, but that it doesn't matter any more?" Ginny asked in a rush as she threw her arms around her friend. "Hermione, you're my dearest friend, and I don't know how I'd survive without you."
"Oh Ginny," Hermione sobbed, unable to contain her emotions any longer. It had been a horrible, long and lonely day, and she was so relieved to not only reconcile with Ginny, but to see that she was alright and put to rest worries that had haunted her since Ginny had limped away from the Three Broomsticks the previous night.
"Blimey, it's cold out! Fancy a Butterbeer? My treat! Consider it your just reward for the story I'm about to make you sit through! You won't believe the day that I've had," Ginny said, leading Hermione down the street, feeling infinitely lighter than she had all day.
* * * * * *
Draco Malfoy, having succeeded in frightening off the only two friends he had who had been brave enough to see him that day, was nursing a glass of Fire Whiskey and staring at the dusty wall of the private room in the Hogs Head. The whiskey was sub-par, but as the bartender had told him, the quality drink was becoming harder to procure and if it wasn't good enough for the underaged Slytherin, then he could drink elsewhere.
Despite his ill-humour, he had to acknowledge the rather heroic effort that Crabbe and Goyle had undertaken to distract their miserable friend. He wasn't sure how they knew, but they'd appeared just after noon, dragging a seething Draco from his bed, throwing him into the shower, and pulling him unwillingly along with them to the pub. Of course, the miscreants had spend a few minutes too many laughing at his expense, having never seen their esteemed friend nursing a hangover, but they promised a drink or two would help cure him of that ailment.
A few games of Wizards' chess and a few rounds of whiskey had incrementally improved his mood, but when Goyle foolishly tried to bring round the topic to Blaise, Malfoy's careful measure of control had combusted into all the rage that he was feeling.
"Malfoy, enough!" Crabbe said, slamming his hands down on the table. "Have you even thought about what kind of position you're putting Goyle and I in with all of this nonsense? You can be pissed all you want at Zabini - hell, I'm ready to take a swing at him myself, but if you don't stop taking it out on the two of us, you're going to suddenly find yourself without a single friend in this city!"
Crabbe had turned and stormed down the stairs, barking at the wait staff that Malfoy would be taking care of his bill before marching out of the pub. Goyle had sighed, wondering out loud why he couldn't have made friends with any sane people. Before he followed, he'd pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and left it on the table.
"Quit thinking with that black heart of yours, and start thinking with your brain, and maybe it will all become clear," Goyle said.
And now Draco was sitting in the semi-dark of the fading afternoon sun, drinking shoddy whiskey all alone. His misery was hanging about him like an incredibly heavy cloak that he was too weak to shake off. Recalling the way she'd cried out when he touched her, he was unable to banish the sound from his mind, and the swill in his glass wasn't helping to block it out like he had supposed it would.
Pensively, he studied the paper, and recalling Goyle's stinging assertion that he start thinking with his brain, he picked it up.
It didn't take him long to find out what Goyle wanted him to see. He read through the article quickly and spared only a moment's glance at the accompanying photo before tossing the newspaper aside, a cold fury burning every one of his nerve endings. Propping one leg up on the chair in front of him, he leaned back and sipped his drink, wondering what he should do next.
The bell above the door of the pub jingled, and he could hear two sets of footsteps and a pair of female voices echoing up to where he sat.
"Ginny, why don't we just go to the Three Broomsticks?" that Mudblood friend of Weasley's asked. Draco sat up straight in his chair, quite unsure of what to do with himself. He grabbed his wand, contemplating Disapparating far away, but as his eyes flicked to the discarded newspaper, he was just as compelled to stay where he was.
"And pay Rosmerta's prices for Butterbeer? Goodness no. Her patrons don't tip me well enough for that kind of extravagance. Besides, there will be too many people there I have absolutely no desire to see right now. I can just see Parkinson sitting there, waiting to pounce on me like she always is," Weasley said with a laugh. They had walked to the furthest end of the pub, and Draco could hear the sound of them pulling out chairs, and he figured they were sitting practically beneath where he was sitting. "Oy, Aberforth! Two Butterbeers, please! And mind you dust off the bottles this time, or I'll send them right back."
"Are you sure you're all right? I've been pretty worried about you," the Mudblood asked, her voice dropping. Draco strained to hear more.
"Mostly. A touch sore here and there, and I have some lovely bruises to testify to the strength of our noble Death Eaters' consternation for my actions, but nothing serious," Weasley said, her voice tight, belying the truth. Draco frowned, startled as he took in this news. After a moment , his fist clenched involuntarily as the pieces snapped into place in his mind - suddenly, everything about the way she had acted the previous night made sense, and the truth of it - and how blind he'd been - burned.
"How about we turn to a happier topic - one that's much safer to discuss in public?"
"Of course, you must be dying to tell me about your date with Blaise Zabini," the Mudblood said, and Draco was so gratified by her bringing up the topic, he tried to remember her name so he could stop referring to her as 'the Mudblood'.
He gave up any pretense of leaving and, recalling a handy charm that Tonks had taught him when they used to sneak out of their bedrooms and listen to the absurd conversation taking place during his parents' frequent parties at the house in London, he threw back the contents of his glass. Feeling the alcohol burn as ran it down his throat, he cast a charm to amplify noise, and the glass up to his ear, vowing he'd murder anyone who interrupted his self-interested act of espionage.
* * * * * *
"Hmm, I thought asked for a happier topic," Ginny said with a sigh. "It was a proper date, all right. We had tea, which I nearly picked up and tossed in his face, and ran out on him after scolding him rather spectacularly."
"Sounds like most of the dates you've had with Malfoy," Hermione commented with a sly grin.
"How absurd, of course not! Because, you know, we've never really been on a conventional date, so it's hardly fair to compare it. But at least when I quarreled with him, Malfoy had the decency to argue back."
"Zabini didn't?"
"That would require too much effort, and I think he'd exhausted it all, setting up the situation to begin with," Ginny said, a hard edge to her voice.
Hermione stared at her friend, and anything she could have said was interrupted as a waitress brought over their drinks. Ginny sipped hers and appeared to be lost in thought. Knowing her friend too well to press her for more information until she was ready, Hermione kept quiet, waiting for Ginny to continue.
"Have you read the Daily Prophet yet today? I read through it while I was waiting for you to finish work," Ginny said. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out an article she'd torn from the copy she'd found on the bench near where she'd waited, and handed it over to Hermione.
"Cho Chang is engaged? But I thought that she and Zabini..." Hermione trailed off, studying her friend's face. Ginny was looking down at the table, her fingers playing with the label on her Butterbeer bottle.
"No doubt he did too, but at least it explains what brought him back so suddenly to Hogwarts," Ginny said quietly. After a moment's reflection, she looked up at Hermione. There was a hollow look in her eyes, the one that Ginny rarely let show, but that Hermione recognized - the one that spoke of a grim understanding of the world she lived in.
"It's terribly mortifying to admit it, but one smile from a beautiful Slytherin boy combined with the far-fetched notion that he may actually fancy me, and I forgot the one thing I reminded myself daily since I set foot in that school," she said. "To the Slytherins, life is just one giant chess match. Which means, unfortunately for the lowly pawns of the world, that every single person is just a game piece to them."
"Surely not to all of them see the world that way," Hermione said softly, placing a comforting hand on Ginny's. Ginny smiled faintly, but there was a faraway look in her eye.
"I've yet to meet one... It's rather unjust, don't you think? We live in a world where fairies exist but where fairy tale endings don't. At least not for someone like me," she said wryly, taking a swig of her drink. "When I kiss the prince, I turn into a pawn - only it turns out that I was one all along."
A loud crack echoed throughout the pub, and the two girls jumped, their nerves still on high alert from the previous night. Hermione looked about, trying to find the source of the noise, while Ginny's eyes instinctively searched for the nearest exit.
"Just someone Disapparating," the waitress said, waving off their concern. "Happens all the time with the sort that come in here."
After a few deep breaths to steady her racing heart beat, Ginny looked across the table at her friend, and noted that she was watching her with a rather concerned look on her face. She gave her a smile, and decided to share something with her that would lighten the tone of their conversation.
"Would you like to know what I'm really quite angry about? It's irrational, really, and totally ridiculous, but I'm infuriated by the idea that he spoiled my record."
"What do you mean, record?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"My record. The times, situations and places where I've kissed someone. And the list of people. Zabini's kind of ruined it. I mean, the first kiss was hardly ideal, trick mistletoe and all, but the second... oh Hermione, the second one in a moonlit fairy garden? And that peck outside the school the morning after we escaped from the Astronomy Tower shouldn't really count, but the time in the Three Broomsticks... I pushed him off the bench that time," Ginny recalled with a sigh, a slight smile on her lips. "There was the time at the ball or on the island... even last night. Most of the time, I was furious with him, often surprised - he does like to catch a girl off guard! Sometimes we were teasing each other or screaming at each other... It doesn't seem to matter, though, because every single kiss was rather... magical."
"Ginny..." Hermione trailed off, at a loss for what to say. Ginny's cheeks were blazing red, and she put her hands to her face in embarassment.
"Oh, goodness, that was mortifying to say out loud! I can't believe I did. But there you have it. I had a perfect snog record - how many girls could say that? Zabini ruined it, and I'm quite put out by it," she said with a laugh.
"You're right, that is a rather ridiculous thing for you to be angry about!" Hermione agreed. "I think we're going to need more Butterbeer over here."
* * * * * *
Crabbe and Goyle had spent the larger part of their evening lamenting the strong-headed idiocy of their dear friend Malfoy, and the relaxed obliviousness of Zabini over a few pints at the Three Broomsticks. At turns amused and incensed, they ultimately decided that the best plan - short of contriving a way to maroon them both in Siberia without their wands, which after sober reflection, was deemed too complicated and re-purposed as a longer-term objective - was to send an owl to Malfoy's esteemed cousin, who would surely breeze back into town and bash both of their heads together until they started speaking sense again.
Congratulating themselves on their innovative thinking, they charmed a sheet of parchment paper and a quill from Rosmerta and dashed off their note. Stumbling, full of high spirits now that their main source of unease was about to be settled, they made their way to the owlery and, if slightly beligerantly, arranged to send their note to Tonks.
They were quite pleased, after completing their mission and having decided to make their way over to All Hallows to celebrate with some pretty girls, to find one of the objects of their machinations wandering down the path between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.
"Zabini! Fancy seeing you out tonight - we were just talking about you!" Goyle called out happily. Zabini looked up at them, as if surprised to see them, and shrugged.
"It's true. We just came to the conclusion that we needed to call in a higher power to rough up you and Malfoy until you agree to kiss and make up. We've had quite enough of this lovers' quarrel," Crabbe agreed solemnly. Zabini just looked at his friends and shrugged slightly, unperturbed by their threats.
Crabbe and Goyle wandered along behind him, competing over the best insults for their two offending friends and attempting to cajole Zabini into joining them at All Hallows.
"C'mon, mate. It'll be the best cure to rid your brain of that Quidditch-playing harpy who went and got engaged behind your back," Goyle said, tossing his arm around Zabini's shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off.
"Don't talk about her that way," Zabini said, his eyes flashing.
"So that's how it is," a cold voice said, and they all turned to see Malfoy standing a little way ahead of them. Crabbe and Goyle took one look at his face, and both instinctively reached for their wands. They could only recall ever once seeing that degree of fury on his face. His smaller bursts of temper were often grandiose and explosive, but burned out quickly. It was when his voice took on that patient, dangerously cold drawl that one really needed to worry, as it concealed a deadly rage.
To the casual observer, there wouldn't have been anything particularly foreboding about Draco Malfoy in that moment. He was leaning, arms crossed, against the stone wall of the alleyway ahead of them, half-obscured by the dim light and his dark clothing. But he was tapping his wand against one forearm in a seemingly idle manner and there was a piercing glint in his eyes as they fell on his former best friend that was positively frightening to those who knew him best.
"Oh, does it really matter to you Draco? Certainly didn't matter to Weasley," Zabini said, slyly raising an insinuating eyebrow.
"Blaise..." Crabbe warned, his voice pleading.
"Oh, come on, Crabbe - it's obviously taken Malfoy all day to work himself up to the hissy fit he's about to unleash on us. It's about time, too, because I, frankly, am sick of you making such a fool of yourself over that silly Weasley girl," Zabini said.
"You've become quite good at lying. When did that happen?" Malfoy asked.
"Maybe I always have been, and you've just been too thick to notice. The Weasley girl certainly was. Oh come on, Malfoy. Two months ago you would have been killing yourself laughing about the plain little peasant girl who actually thought one of us fancied her. Where did your sense of humour go?" Zabini said, his voice harsh and sarcastic. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged worried glances, and backed away, moving out of Malfoy's range.
"Weasley isn't plain, and one of us does fancy her," Malfoy said, his voice steady as he stepped forward.
"Now who is the liar, Malfoy? You honestly expect us to believe that you're in love with such a common, ordinary girl?" Zabini asked, his voice incredulous. "Except that she isn't just ordinary, is she? Even worse, she's also blood traitor and revolutionary! You're only pursuing this because she's the best way to punish your parents."
"And why exactly have you been pursuing her?" Malfoy asked, titling his head in what could have been construed as mild curiosity if it weren't for the cold hostility in his voice.
"Well, it's not like I had to try very hard," Zabini said with a shrug. "A few smiles and knowing looks, and she was practically throwing herself at me... so pathetic."
Malfoy just stared at him for a long moment, as if he were deciding what to do. He moved back a step, and made a movement as if to turn and walk away, but then, in the space of a blink, he swung back and punched Zabini, connecting his fist right below his left jawline.
Zabini's head snapped back with a terrible crack, and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground in a heap.
"Pathetic?" Malfoy growled, shaking his hand.
"Oh, you know her act - strong and independent, yet lonely and fragile outcast," Zabini said, his voice ragged. He sat up and gingerly touched his chin with a wince. "It would actually be rather manipulative, the way that she draws you in only to shove you away... if only she were capable of manipulating anyone. Although she's certainly been quite adept at manipulating you."
"Oh, I think you've proven to be the most manipulative among us," Malfoy shot back. "But I have to ask - has all of this been satisfying? So Cho ripped out your heart and sent you home. Has everything you've done since you came limping back to Hogsmeade a broken man been worth it?"
"Perhaps if it had actually been difficult. Why can't you make that girl love you? It was harder to make her realize that I could care less about her than it was to make her like me. As I said, pathetic."
"She may not want me, but I'm not going to let you turn her into a pawn for whatever pathetic revenge you've cooked up just because I want her," Malfoy said. "If you hurt her again, I'll destroy you."
"But you make it so easy, Malfoy. I have to hand it to the girl, one of her redeeming qualities is her fabulous predilection for rejecting you over and over again. It's so refreshing to see you obsessed with quite possibly the only girl in the world who would really rather have nothing to do with you."
"Better than a woman who fled the continent to get away from you so she could marry someone else," Malfoy said darkly. With one last glare at his former friend, he turned and started to walk away, his hands shaking with rage he was still struggling to contain. He heard the telltale crunch of snow, and turned back just in time as Zabini lunged for him, and the two tumbled to the ground.
* * * * *
Crabbe and Goyle watched with exasperated amusement as the two wrestled around, rolling in the snow, occasionally landing a blow.
"Foolish of Blaise to wait to attack while Draco's back was turned," Goyle commented, leaning casually against the wall.
"It's true. After that time when we were 12, Malfoy's always expects it," Crabbe said. A wave of snow kicked up as Malfoy, scrambling to extricate himself from Zabini's grip, flung him backwards into a snow drift.
"At least Malfoy's holding back. Can't imagine what would happen if he wasn't," Goyle said dryly. Crabbe dusted a sprinkling of snow off his shoulder, and continued to watch.
"Idiots," Crabbe muttered.
Malfoy managed to get in three heavy blows before Zabini managed to throw him back. Panting, Malfoy crouched in the snow, staring at his opponent, whose lip was split and nose was gushing blood. Zabini had managed a few good shots to face, and his eye felt swollen. No doubt he'd have quite the black eye in a few hours.
"Really, Malfoy? Is she really worth all of this?" Zabini asked, his voice rough. Malfoy stared at him, his expression so intense, Zabini seemed to draw back slightly, as if startled.
"I should be asking you the same thing," Malfoy drawled, his voice icy cold. "You've only done all this because I'm the one that sent you off after Cho in the first place. She's the one who ripped out your heart and stomped all over it with her designer Quidditch boots."
"You only sent me off to get me out your way so you could move in on Weasley!" Zabini shouted, jumping up to his feet.
"Of course that's why I did it!" Malfoy exploded, jumping up and lunging at his friend, his knee colliding with Zabini's stomach in one fluid motion. "I had to get you out of the way. If our roles were reversed, you would have done exactly the same thing!"
"You may be right. But, I know something that you don't," Zabini grunted, catching Malfoy's jaw with a right hook. He stumbled backwards. Slowly straightening out, he wiped a trickle of blood from his lip.
"Then please, enlighten me," Malfoy hissed dangerously.
"We had plenty of time to talk this afternoon," Zabini said, his tone suggestive. He tried to sidestep Malfoy's sudden and vicious strike, but Malfoy was too quick and managed to land the blow.
"Malfoy, this is all starting to get very dull. Haven't you had enough yet?" Goyle called, growing irritated.
"Only problem was," Zabini said, regaining his balance by planting his heavy arms on Malfoy's shoulders, steadying himself as he met his friend's eyes - his stone-cold eyes. "Was that she only stopped talking about you long enough to yell at me for being a horrible friend to you."
"What difference does that make?" Malfoy shouted, struggling to free himself from his grip. He wasn't done yet, his skin was still positively crackling with unspent anger. "Her actions don't absolve yours. I'm shockingly perceptive, Zabini. I know how she feels, even if she won't admit it to anyone - I don't need you to tell me that, and I won't let you use her - in any way."
"Malfoy, just listen," Zabini said, his voice insistent enough to break through Malfoy's rage. He frowned, and nodded, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Zabini to know that he was listening. He leaned in, aware that there was always an audience in this city. "You may know how she feels, but neither of you know how much. Her Patronus... it was a dragon."
Malfoy stiffened, as if jolted by electricity. He backed off, violently shrugging off Zabini's arms. Malfoy used emotional displays with the same precision as a weapon - it was very rare that he lost control, and on the occasions he did, it was because his anger got the better of him. Blaise, while physically exhausted, watched in fascination as a range of emotions crossed his friend's face and he struggled to conceal them.
A Patronus was a wizard's best defense, a concentrated burst of pure happiness aimed to protect from the abject hopelessness of Dementors. While not always the case, a Patronus was thought represent, in one way or another, the source of that happiness.
Malfoy closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, before opening them again, seemingly having regained his composure.
"You saw it?" he asked, his voice quiet. There was a glint of such desperate hope in his eyes, it was almost painful for Blaise to see it.
"I did. I saw it," he answered, straightening up. Malfoy's eyes widened, and he looked away, smiling to himself, almost in disbelief. Blaise felt himself relax slightly, even as his injuries began to ache. Perhaps it had been worth it after all.
But then Malfoy turned back, a puzzled look crossing his face. He stepped towards Blaise, his head cocked slightly, as if he were trying to work out a serious problem. Blaise could tell the exact moment when whatever he was figuring clicked into place, as Malfoy's eyes snapped up to meet his, a frighteningly cold look of fury on his face.
And then he attacked.
Blaise had barely enough time to throw his arms up to protect his face before a rain of vicious blows fell on him, too quick for him to fend off.
"What the hell?" Blaise grunted, baffled by the sudden attack. Something had changed - Malfoy's intensity and viciousness was ratcheted up to a whole new level.
"If you saw the whole thing, that means you were there," Malfoy raged. Unable to defend himself, Blaise fell to the ground. "And if you were there, that means you just watched. You just stood there and let that happen."
"Oy, Malfoy! What are you doing?" Crabbe shouted, the intensity of this new fight interrupting their disinterest. He and Goyle dashed forward, as Malfoy began kicking Blaise, who was lying on his side and curling into himself, trying to protect his vital organs.
"He's gone mad!" Goyle called out. They each grabbed an arm, and tried to drag him away, Malfoy thrashing around with a mindless violence that worried them both.
"We have to stop him - remember what happened last time he was like this?" Crabbe grunted as they struggled to pull him away from Blaise.
"If you were ever my friend, you would have done something!" Draco shouted.
"It would have made it worse," Blaise moaned from the ground. "You know that."
"Malfoy, stop!" Crabbe commanded, but he was too far gone. He wrenched his arms free, and he fell on Blaise again with a violent, bone-chilling determination.
* * * * *
Ginny and Hermione heard the shouting from almost a block away. They glanced at each other with a shrug and continued to make their way towards Hermione's flat, although they both quickened their pace, wanting to be safely indoors if there was trouble brewing.
"Malfoy, stop!"
Ginny stopped in her tracks. Hermione, who'd kept walking, turned back to her when she realized Ginny was no longer beside her.
"Ginny," she said with a warning tone. The echos of the shouting voices continued, and Ginny looked about her, trying to figure out where they were coming from. She was frozen, undecided and fighting competing instincts. The first was to follow Hermione, to run with her as fast as they could until they were inside four safe walls and could lock out the rest of the world. The second, the strongest, was to follow the sound of the shouting, to find him.
"Ginny, keep walking," Hermione commanded, seeing the struggle on her face. Another burst of shouting broke out and Ginny startled, zeroing in on the location the sounds were coming from.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I just... I have to," she said apologetically, and took off running.
A/N:
Sorry for the cliffhanger - more to come soon.
For those of you who are familiar with Hana Yori Dango, the inspiration behind this fic, the "main events" from HYD in this chapter: Ginny & Blaise's terrible date, and the show-down between Draco and Blaise, and the fact that Cho's engaged being discovered via print media. Characterizations have taken huge departures from the HYD plot - everyone in this fic have VERY different (and quite complex, in some cases) motives.
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