Sorry this update took longer than promised, I had some Events In Computer Land that prevented my updating. To make up for it, I’ve posted more than I originally planned, making it a Monster Chapter of Doom.
This is quite possibly my favorite chapter I’ve ever written, and it’s totally for Jade Summers, who, in her own special way, complained that this fic is taking my attention away from BC. I don’t know if she’s even reading it, but I thought I’d be snarky dedicating a chapter of the fic that’s taken my attention away from BC to her. Hee.
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Chapter 7: Breaking the Impasse
The crush of people in the Three Broomsticks had destroyed the restaurant’s usually quiet and comfortable atmosphere. Instead of the families and business partners dining in the main area, there were crowds and crowds of rowdy Quidditch fans, gathered together to celebrate an incredible victory. Their team, through a marvelous move by Cho Chang, had won the Quidditch World Cup by ten points. The entire city was in a frenzy of excitement, with people running through the streets, shouting merrily.
Ginny looked around with a sigh, before she set back to work. By all appearances, the celebrations were never going to cease, and she would be there the entire night, despite the large pile of homework she had waiting for her, work that she’d neglected all weekend, choosing instead to plot her revenge on Malfoy. She glanced at Madame Rosmerta with a pleading look in her eyes, and the older woman smiled apologetically and shrugged. With a sigh, Ginny set back to work, enjoying the crowd’s excitement despite the fact that it meant it would be hours before she could be free to take part in her own celebrations – she had a Butterbeer and a recording of the wireless broadcast of the game that Hermione had made for her while she was at school waiting for her back at her flat (along with her gigantic pile of homework).
Making her way through the excited crowd, she spotted a tall blonde girl waving to get her attention. Ginny frowned when she finally spotted her, and froze when she realized that it was Claire Carmichael, looking at her with a tentative smile and pleading eyes. Ginny returned the smile before the rush of Claire’s betrayal hit her again – this was the girl who she’d stuck her neck out for, for whom she’d received the Howler, the girl who had abandoned her and looked the other way when it had been Ginny’s turn to need help. She set her jaw, and walked towards her, the pain of Claire’s silence over the week fresh on her mind.
“Ginny! I’ve been trying to get you alone for so long, but every time I try to find you, you’re always with the Slytherins,” Claire cried when Ginny finally made it through the crowd to the corner where Claire was waiting for her.
“You’d better stop talking to me. You don’t want to make it appear to anyone that we’re friends, you’d just get yourself into hot water and it would all be for nothing,” Ginny said venomously.
“I’ve been trying to apologize, to find a way to tell you that I’m sorry,” Claire said, looking around her suspiciously, checking to see if there were any other Hogwarts students around.
“I have to get back to work, Claire,” Ginny said, her voice cold impatient.
“When are you finished? Can I meet you after? I’d really like to talk, Ginny,” she pleaded, sounding desperate. Ginny remembered her earlier kindnesses and the thrill she’d felt upon believing that she’d actually made a true friend at Hogwarts, and her resolve to be cold towards the pretty girl melted.
“Rosmerta will probably close down around 11, and I should be done soon after, she has enough closers on tonight. Meet me here then,” Ginny said. Claire smiled, and jumped up excitedly.
“Thank you, Ginny,” she said, sincerely.
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The streets of Hogsmeade were alive with the victory celebrations; it was sheer chaos and any attempts to move around the streets were nearly impossible. In the center square, someone had erected a banner that was charmed to count down the hours until the Quidditch team was set to return to Hogsmeade, to attend the festivities that were being hastily arranged to welcome back the championship team to the city where many of the members were from; particularly Cho Chang, whose family had moved there when she had started attending Hogwarts, who was officially the hometown heroine.
Draco Malfoy and two of his closest friends were walking around the downtown area, watching with disdain as the lower classes celebrated in the streets, as they contemplated the best spot to enjoy themselves, away from the commoners who made up the crowd.
“The city is an absolute mess,” Goyle said, as a drunken wizard stumbled past him.
“It won’t be for long. The team is supposed to be returning tomorrow, and you know the mayor and many of the ministers are going to be breaking their backs to roll out the red carpet welcome for them,” Crabbe laughed.
“Where is Zabini?” Draco asked, the first time he’d spoken since his friends had appeared at his doorstep, insisting that he come out with them. After the “incident” at lunch (for that was what they were calling it, not daring to prod his temper by referring to it in any detail), he’d been deathly silent all afternoon, only responding to anyone who was brave enough to speak to him with a dangerous-looking glare that had enough barley controlled rage behind it to boil water.
“He’s probably camped out under that count-down banner in the square, watching the time until Cho comes back tick away,” Goyle said, with an impatient air. As a boy who had never had a real relationship, and switched from girl to girl as soon as he grew bored with one, he couldn’t quite comprehend Blaise’s preoccupation with just one girl that he’d known his whole life.
“He said he needed the night to himself, to ‘reflect’,” Crabbe said, with a roll of his eyes. “You’d think he’d be more excited – Cho’s going to be back here tomorrow, and he’s acting like it’s the end of the world.”
“It’s because they won. Now that they’re the World Champions, she won’t be staying here for long. She’ll probably join a pro-team, and be on tour and such, and then he’ll hardly ever see her,” Crabbe said.
“Let’s go to the town square, that’s where he’ll probably be,” Draco said, noting to himself that the Three Broomsticks was across the street from where they were heading.
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Things had miraculously started to calm down shortly after 10, as the reality of work the next morning began to settle in on those who had been celebrating since noon. The exhausted staff had banded together, working quickly to close the place down, most eager to join the last dregs of the celebrations occurring across the street in the town square. After wiping off the last of the tables and helping Hermione sweep the floor, Madame Rosmerta waved Ginny off, telling her to get home and take care of her homework and promising her a night off in return for agreeing to stay the couple hours after her shift was supposed to end in order to assist with the extra customers.
After changing out of her uniform and relating to Hermione the success of the twins’ creation, complete with an imitation of the sight of Malfoy flapping his wings around in surprise, Ginny spotted Claire waiting for her through the large store-front window. Calling goodnight to Hermione over her shoulder, Ginny grabbed her bag and headed out to meet her.
Their conversation was definitely stilted and awkward, as they walked slowly down the street, heading in no particular direction.
“I never had a chance to thank you for what you did for me, and after all the trouble it caused you, I was so afraid that you’d hate me for it,” Claire was explaining. “And… I saw everything they were doing to you, and I was terrified that the same thing would happen to me.”
Ginny looked up in surprise at Claire’s honesty, and nodded slowly. “I assumed that’s what happened.”
“You’ve just been so incredible, Ginny. I don’t know how you’ve stood up to Draco Malfoy! He’s terrifying, and you’ve just faced him down like you weren’t afraid at all,” Claire said earnestly.
“I was at first, but there’s really nothing to be afraid of. He’s just a pompous spoiled child who likes to kick and scream when he doesn’t get his way, but what has he ever done to keep everyone around him so afraid of displeasing him?” Ginny asked with exasperation. “Nothing, and it’s about time everyone realizes it, and takes away the only real power he has – fear.”
“But Ginny!” Claire exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, a look of abject horror in her eyes. “You have every reason to be afraid of Draco Malfoy! Haven’t you heard the stories?”
“What stories?” Ginny asked suspiciously, preparing to hear some tall tale rumor that she could later brush off as ridiculous embellishment.
“He knows how to use two of the three Unforgivables, and he’s the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being! They say that when he was only 14, he got so angry with someone that he nearly killed him, and that it was only because Professor McGonagall was there to stop him that he didn’t, and because of who his father is, no teacher dares to punish him for whatever he does. He’s really a dangerous person, Ginny,” Claire said breathlessly. Ginny stared at her, this new information running through her mind.
“I’m sure that all sounds like it is true, Claire, but I’ve been at Hogwarts for six years with him and this is the first that I’ve heard of it,” Ginny said quietly, mostly to herself.
“But it is! The sister of the boy who was cursed was in my class at Beauxbatons, and she left the term early to visit her brother at Saint Mungo’s!” Claire cried and Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. “No one, even now, knows what provoked him to curse him so badly, but Jill always said that even her brother didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it. And you’ve done what no other person has ever dared to do – you stood up to him, you fought back and you’re still alive to tell about it!”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Ginny said, even though she fighting against a wave a panic that threatened to wash over her entire body. Claire grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.
“You were just so brave Ginny, I could never have done what you did. And I was too scared even to speak to you at school, even after all you did for me. I’m really sorry,” she said emphatically, and Ginny felt her panic recede as she saw the absolute sincerity in her eyes.
“You were right not to speak up for me. In fact, if anyone were to see us together, it would be really bad, so you should probably go,” Ginny said, looking around her. “I wouldn’t want you to get caught and have a Howler sent to you, because then everything would have been a huge waste.”
“Hey, isn’t that Blaise Zabini standing there? What do you think he’s doing, just staring up at that banner with the count-down clock on it?” Claire said suddenly. Ginny looked over to the middle of the town square, and indeed, the tall form of Blaise Zabini was standing in the middle, watching the clock count down. Ginny felt her face flush as she remembered the moments they’d spent together, and the actual conversation they’d had that afternoon. It had felt almost like they were friends. After hearing the results of the final Quidditch World Cup match, she’d been wondering how he’d react – he hadn’t seem too excited by the prospect of Cho Chang’s success there. Telling Claire that she’d be right back, she ran across the street towards him.
“You must be excited about your friend returning,” she said, trying to appear as casual as possible, and not as if she’d just walked across the street to talk to him. Blaise looked down at her, appearing surprised to see her, as if he’d been lost in his own world and her voice had pulled him out of it. “And about the win, too, of course.”
“Yeah,” he said simply, without sounding excited at all. Ginny looked up at him in confusion and noted with surprise that he seemed almost sad. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Yeah, I guess I should be happy for her.”
“She’s a bit of a national hero already – her picture is in every magazine and newspaper and she endorses and models for all those products. Now everyone will know who she is,” Ginny said brightly, trying to think of something to cheer him up. Blaise’s face was so neutral and unemotional.
“And everyone can have a piece of her,” he said, with a strange tone to his voice that caused a swell of anxiety in Ginny as he spoke. He laughed – one soft little laugh that hardly seemed a laughed at all, and gave Ginny a wry half-smile. “She plans to stop by Hogwarts some time tomorrow. I’ll introduce you.”
“Really?” Ginny cried, grabbing his arm in her excitement. He nodded, and realizing what she’d done, she released his arm, dropping it as if she’d been burned. Feeling a flush of heat rush to her face, Ginny stood beside him awkwardly, trying to figure out what she should say, but he was already staring back at the clock again and was no longer aware of her existence. Nerves tingling with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, Ginny ran back over to Claire, who was waiting and watching her with a great deal of curiosity.
“Are you friends with Blaise Zabini?” she asked in an awed whisper. Ginny laughed, shaking her head.
“He’s not as bad as the others, he doesn’t seem to mind when I talk to him,” she said, remembering the way he’d come to her rescue the day she’d been pulled into that empty classroom by the two Slytherins that Malfoy had sent after her. “He seems rather snobby because he’s so quiet, but he can be pretty nice.”
Claire studied her for a moment, before smiling indulgently with a knowing look in her eyes.
“Sure, he’s nice. The fact that he’s bloody gorgeous has nothing at all to do with your opinion of him,” she laughed. “So bloody gorgeous, you seem to also be forgetting that he’s a Slytherin and your arch nemesis’ best friend!”
“Claire!” Ginny protested, dashing after her friend as she started walking down the street, laughing after her, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched by a pair of gray eyes that had been following them since they had exited the Three Broomsticks together.
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Snape’s face had taken on a lovely shade of puce by the end of his class, and he was threatening to curse the next person who answered his question with the wrong answer. Ginny watched with a great amount of amusement, as she was normally the one who was the object of Snape’s threats, but as nearly every student was preoccupied with the exciting rumor that the World Championship Seeker would be stopping by the school before the end of the day, the level of distraction was extremely high. So accustomed to being excluded from any major event that occurred by the sheer fact that she didn’t fit the ‘criteria’, Ginny felt a small thrill run down her spine as she thought of Blaise Zabini’s promise to introduce her to Cho Chang. She kept reminding herself that he was only a Slytherin and therefore, his word shouldn’t mean too much, but the possibility that he’d do something so nice and unexpected caused a flurry of butterflies to stir in her stomach.
By the end of the school day, however, no championship Quidditch team had appeared on the school grounds, and tempers began to run rather high. Ginny laughed to herself, despite her own disappointment, as she watched the spoiled and pampered brats try to deal with frustration of not getting what they wanted. The whole school would have been sulking by the end of the day, if word of the victory party that the Changs were hosting in Cho’s honour hadn’t spread around, renewing their hopes that they would get a chance to associate with the national hero – if they were among those lucky enough to receive an invitation.
Ginny had just stored her books in her bag, and was reaching into the storage cupboard where she kept her broomstick during school hours when a flurry of excitement caught her attention. A group of first year boys were running down the hall, obviously excited about something. Curiously, Ginny craned her neck in an attempt to glean what the excitement was all about.
“Peter, where are you going?” a stander-by called out.
“Didn’t you hear?” a short, pudgy boy who had been running with the pack asked incredulously as he paused to answer his friend. “There’s been another Howler! They’ve got her down by the pitch for the Slytherins’ Quidditch practice!”
“Her? Another girl?”
“It’s Claire Carmichael, one of the sixth years. She was caught talking to the Weasel by Draco Malfoy last night and he’s tagged her for it. Come on, I want to get down there as fast as possible! They say she started crying as soon as she got the Howler, not like that bloody stubborn Gryffindor, so she’s probably going to break pretty fast!”
Ginny’s head snapped up, feeling as though she’d been struck by lightning and it became very difficult to breathe as she became dizzy with anger. She was going to kill that arrogant little bastard! Without any further thought, without even considering the disturbing account that Claire had given her the night before of exactly what Malfoy was capable of, she wrenched her broom out of the cupboard, slamming the door shut, and she ran as fast as she could towards the pitch, not even noticing that she’d dropped her book bag on the floor.
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Claire Carmichael’s hands were shaking, and her ears were filled with the jeering of the other students, who were watching her as she stood in the middle of the pitch, clutching a Beater’s club tightly in her hands as she looked to the sky, half afraid that another Bludger would be heading her way. Her knees were covered in mud from the last time one of the heavy balls had rocketed towards her and she’d had to dash out of the way or face being smashed by the violently careening object. The shouting students who had come to watch the sixth year girl “help” the Slytherins with their Quidditch practice had formed a circle around her, so that she was unable to escape, and had taken to pushing her off balance whenever the members of the Quidditch team, circling above them, chose to bat a Bludger towards the shaking girl.
The crowd was so completely preoccupied on watching her struggle against them that they hardly noticed as Ginny Weasley pushed her way through them, clutching her broom tightly in her hand until she broke through the crowd, rushing to stand in front of Claire, swinging out wildly with her broom when some of the more eager boys tried to push her out of the way. They were all yelling and staring at her with eyes filled with anger and rage. They’d already been disappointed once today, and weren’t about to let someone they despised bring about another disappointment, but there was also a feeling of excitement, that the moment they’d been waiting for had finally come. The crazy Weasley girl, who had dared to challenge the Slytherins, who still hadn’t suffered the consequences of her actions, might have finally gone too far, and that possibility meant entertainment for the bored students who had gathered around to torture Claire.
“You lot of bloody cowards had better back away before I curse all of you,” she yelled, holding her broom out threateningly in front of her, just inches away from the faces of three third year Slytherins. She was so focused on glaring back at all those eyes that were glaring at her, that she almost didn’t notice the hissing noise of the Bludger as it was rammed through the air, towards her. Luckily, her Quidditch training kicked in, and she looked up in time to notice it. The crowd around her dashed away amid a flurry of startled cries. Driven purely by instinct borne of many afternoons spent out on the pitch, Ginny swung her broom out as hard as she could, and smashed the Bludger back up into the sky, hearing a large crack fill the air as the butt of her broom splintered from the impact.
Gasping after the Bludger was safely airborne again, Ginny looked above her, and spotted the smug face of Draco Malfoy, holding a Beater’s club. Trembling with anger, Ginny glared at him defiantly before looking down to figure out how much damage her broom had sustained in defense of its owner. Malfoy, who had been hovering just above the crowd, slowly lowered himself to the ground, dismounting gracefully right in front of her.
“Problem, weasel? You’re interfering with our Quidditch practice,” he said brightly, as if he hadn’t almost succeeded in taking her head off with a Bludger.
“You don’t even play Quidditch!” Ginny snapped without even thinking, and immediately cursed her tongue, wishing she’d had a wittier response prepared. But it was true that Malfoy did not play on his House’s Quidditch team, even though many of the girls who sighed after him often spoke about how well he played the game. It was rumored that he did not wish to play in a league where the level of competition was so “below” his level of “talent”. It was actually a blessing for those who did want to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, for if Malfoy or even one of the more high-profile Slytherins ever decided they wanted to play, a large majority of those on the opposing teams would ensure that they were not beaten, so as not to insult the powerful them and face the consequences, which would have killed any sense of competition at the school.
“We have an important game coming up, so, magnanimous person that I am, I offered my expertise in coaching our team,” he said, completely arrogant and completely unaware of how absolutely ridiculous he sounded. “Carmichael, here, was providing some assistance to our Beaters. And you are interfering, weasel. Careful, you may cost your House some points for such a show of bad sportsmanship.”
“You leave Claire out of this! This is between you and me, so you’d better leave her alone!” Ginny cried, stepping up to Malfoy, determined to glare at him as threateningly as she possibly could. He looked down at her with a strange half-smile on his face, before he looked away with a laugh.
“Are you confused about something, weasel? Or perhaps your memory isn’t very sharp – you are a poor little Weasley, it’s only to be expected,” he said, beginning to circle around her slowly, like a shark around its prey.
“What nonsense are you talking now, Malfoy? Or are you just trying to find some way to explain this situation that doesn’t make you look like a pathetic coward by getting your thugs to gang up on a terrified girl?” Ginny spat at him. He stopped in his tracks, a cold expression on his face and a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“You’re the one who declared war, weasel. Don’t blame me for what happens to your friends, because the minute you did that, they became fair game,” he said, his voice low and chilling. “Divide and conquer. You’ve already chosen your own war tactic, and I’ve merely followed suit.”
“War tactic?” she questioned, before remembering the prank she’d pulled with the Canary Cream. Had he known it was her? She had figured it was a risk, considering that there were not many people around who would otherwise be willing to anger the Malfoy heir to that extent, but since nothing had happened immediately following that incident, she’d hoped that he hadn’t been bright enough to figure out who it had been. But it seemed he did know, and that now Claire was paying the price for her petty revenge. “I told you that if you hit me, I was going to hit you right back. That was for the posters, and it has nothing to do with Claire. If you want to fight back, then I’m your target, not her or anybody else!”
Malfoy moved his eyes from their intent gaze at her, looking instead at Claire, who was now collapsed on the sodden ground, sobbing and covered with mud. When his eyes fell back on Ginny, she had to fight against the urge to squirm under that appraising and cold look, and she had to wonder how anyone could look so casually threatening while leaning nonchalantly against his broom.
“I’ll make you an offer, weasel, seeing as I’m such a great and generous man,” he said, stepping towards her with his trademark swagger, causing her to take a step back to avoid being too close to him. There was something about his physical presence that completely unnerved her – she’d experienced it at the Three Broomsticks the night he’d caught her in front of the mirror. She’d been powerless to move away from him, even as his closeness made her skin crawl. “I will call off the whole game – all of it, if you can do one thing.”
“Whatever it is, it had better be worth it, because I’m certainly won’t be letting you off too easily!” she cried out defiantly, which was answered with a number of loud jeering cries from their spectators. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt a swell of panic rush through her body and she became slightly light-headed. Malfoy, for his part, looked slightly startled at her challenge, before smiling maliciously, his eyes falling on her broom, the bottom of which had splintered from the impact of the Bludger.
“Everyone has heard you boast enough times at how well you fly, considering the laughable state of your pathetic second-hand broom. Let’s put that arrogance of yours to the test. If you can catch me, I’ll call the whole thing off, and I’ll even take back your friend’s Howler,” he said, his eyes bright with pleasure as he spoke. Looming over her, his voice silky and dangerous, he continued. “However, if it turns out that you’re just a noisy girl with no Quidditch skills after all, nothing changes. The war is still on, and everything and everyone is fair prey.”
“You’d better hope that fancy broom of yours has some really amazing built-in features. Because you are going to need all the help you can get,” Ginny answered, her eyes lit with the thrill of the challenge, clutching her broom, ignoring the shattered end and splintered shaft, and prepared to mount. “Shall I give you a head start? As a matter of courtesy, of course, because I’m inevitably going to destroy you.”
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They had been headed towards the Quidditch pitch, knowing that the Slytherins were holding practice after classes were over and since Slytherin practices always drew a crowd, it would be the place to go to find their friends. But as Blaise Zabini and Cho Chang neared closer, they spotted two people on brooms bolting through the air, flying away from the pitch. Even more curious was the crowd of people who were running after them, all with their heads craned back to watch the sky as they ran, following the flyers. As the students ran past where they’d stopped on the path in order to figure out what exactly was happening, hardly a single person noticed who they were or that they were standing there, they were all so engrossed in watching the happenings above them.
“What is this all about, do you think?” Cho asked with a curious smile on her face. “This isn’t the way I remember Quidditch practice at Hogwarts.”
“Let me find out,” Blaise answered, frowning as he recognized Draco as the one on the broomstick ahead of the one who was lagging behind. That broomstick was obviously malfunctioning, as was evident by the trail of smoke he or she was leaving behind him. Spotting Crabbe among the throng following after the two in the air, Blaise called out to him, asking what was happening.
“Malfoy challenged Weasley to a race. If she catches him, he’ll take back her Howler, and the one he sent the Carmichael girl this afternoon,” Crabbe called back. Hearing this, Blaise looked up to see where they were heading, and knowing his friend’s pride and the way he thought better than most, he groaned.
“He’s not headed where I think he’s heading, is he?” Cho’s soft voice asked, full of concern. “He can’t possibly be that foolish!”
“It’s Draco,” Blaise answered, with a pointed look. “Of course he’s that foolish.”
“You have to stop him!” Cho said, her dark eyes filled with worry. “He’ll get the both of them killed, but especially her, judging by the way her broomstick seems to be lagging behind. There’s no way she’ll be able to get around the tree, not like that.”
Blaise sighed heavily, but one look at the earnestly pleading eyes of Cho Chang, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with them as they followed the crowd, which was definitely headed in the direction of the Whomping Willow, a tree which Draco Malfoy had once successfully flown around twice in succession without being hit by the tree’s dangerously flailing limbs, a fact he often announced whenever someone even remotely questioned his flying abilities.
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If you can’t beat the speed of their broom, then make sure you out-fly them, her brother Charlie had always told her while she watched the boys play Quidditch. Charlie was the best player of her brothers, and probably could have had a shot at playing professionally, had he been allowed to attend a wizarding school that played Quidditch. As she followed behind Malfoy, the wind screaming past her, she could feel the way that her broom was pulling to the left, and the sluggish response it was giving to her movements. Not knowing quite how much damage that Bludger had actually done, Ginny knew that she would never be able to catch Malfoy, who was flying on a superior broom that wasn’t broken.
That just meant that she had to out-maneuver him. She’d followed him as he flew away from the pitch, looking up only to see that he seemed to be leading her closer to the edge the Forbidden Forest, a fact that gave her the advantage that she was looking for. The Weasley children were always playing Quidditch – out in the open spaces near their house when they it was dark enough to avoid detection by the Muggles who lived nearby, or in the woods when it wasn’t. That was where she’d learned to maneuver, in order to dodge all the tree branches. But that was never on a broken broom, a voice in her head warned her. Seeing Malfoy pull to the left suddenly, Ginny ignored the voice and followed him, determined to at least keep pace as closely as possible until her opportunity appeared.
Unfortunately, that opportunity would never emerge. Just as she was planning to swiftly change directions and cut off Malfoy’s route, the tree he’d lead her towards started to move. Cursing loudly, she realized with a jolt of fear that they’d flown right into the path of the bloody Whomping Willow. She swerved to the right as a large branch came hurtling towards her, and nearly screamed as she heard it swish past her ear, barely missing her head. She could feel the way her broom was pulling to the left, slowing her down and decreasing her ability to make any swift maneuvers. As another branch swung towards her, she considered pulling away, feeling that she probably couldn’t follow Malfoy as he wove in and out of the shifting branches, not with the way her broom was behaving. But just before she was about to turn out of her current flight path, away from danger and out of the tree’s reach, she saw him look over his shoulder, an arrogant smirk on his face and a knowing look in his eyes. He knew that there was no way she could keep up, and that common sense would force her to pull out, to let him win.
Well, Ginny was never one for common sense – at least not when there was a challenge thrown into the mix and her pride was on the line, along with all the other stakes. Gritting her teeth, she urged her broom on, following him through a large thick of branches, making slight adjustments to avoid being struck. He looked back again, and this time, instead of an arrogant smirk, his face flushed with rage, and he pushed his broom faster, taking a sudden veer upwards, shooting up through the branches, darting deftly as the branches swung towards him. Ginny followed him up, but she was too slow and she felt a hiss of pain as a tree branch whipped her forehead, causing her to cry out.
Shooting out of the trees, Malfoy suddenly changed directions, heading straight down. Smiling to herself, knowing that Wronski Feints were her specialty, Ginny dove after him, dodging branches as well as she could. A few snagged at her sweater, but she ignored him, her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. Just before he smashed headlong to the ground, Malfoy pulled up, taking a turn around the tree’s large trunk. As Ginny began to pull up herself, she felt a strange shudder from her broom, and nearly panicked as it refused to pull out of the dive. Yanking up, pulling with all her might, her hands slippery with perspiration, she was finally able to change directions. She’d been so caught up with trying to keep from crashing into the ground that she’d had no time to scout ahead of her, so when an enormous tree branch swung suddenly in front of her, she had no time to move out of its way.
It caught her on the side, smashing into her ribcage. The force of the impact sent her flying from her broom, and she threw her arms out in front of her, trying to break her fall with something other than her face. She landed, with her right arm curled under her body, hearing a sickening snap of her wrist and feeling a giant shock of pain jolt through her body. She lay on the cold, wet ground, feeling muddy water seep into her clothing as she struggled to move, to breathe, to do something. The force of her fall had knocked the wind from her, and her chest was protesting as she tried to draw a breath. Above the din of the crowd that had gathered and seen her fall, she could hear the whistling of the Whomping Willow’s tree branches as they swung through the air, and knew that she had to get out of its way before it decided that knocking her off her broom wasn’t sufficient and tried to smash her into the ground.
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She pushed herself up to her feet using her left arm while cradling her throbbing right hand to her body, crying out at the way her movements jarred her already-swelling wrist. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she saw the angle at which it was bent. Disoriented from her fall and pain, she stumbled away from the tree just in time, as a large branch swerved towards her, bashing the ground where she’d been laying. She could hear them laughing at her, but with her throbbing hand, the stinging cut across her forehead and the fact that she was covered in mud and shivering from the cold air, it was difficult to care.
What mattered most was the fact that she’d lost. The crowd was settling in around her, their eyes shining in triumph that their leader, their bloody idol, hadn’t lost to such a lowly Gryffindor who talked a big game. Ignoring them, she sloshed through the muddied ground to where her broom was lying in a giant puddle. Her movements were slow and stiff, as almost every muscle in her body was aching, and she noticed that the side of her body where the tree struck was beginning to throb painfully every time she took more than a shallow breath.
“I’m still waiting for you to destroy me, Weasley,” Draco Malfoy called out, his voice filled with amusement. He’d just jumped off his broom, landing a few feet in front of her. She lifted her head, unable to say anything in response. The most she could muster was a look that she could only hope communicated the depths of her hatred for him. “It looks like you really are only talk,” he said. “It’s a pity. I’m beginning to grow bored with the game, but it looks like it’s going to carry on a bit longer.”
“That’s fine. Just leave Claire out of it,” she muttered, hating how weak her voice sounded. Those eyes of his – the ones that could spot every weakness and sore point about her very being, so that he could use it to his advantage – were hard enough to face when she was a hundred percent, she never wanted to seem weak in front of him.
“You know I can’t possibly do that. You,” he said, raising his voice as he looked around at their spectators, “declared war on me and the rest of the Slytherins. What kind of precedent does this set for other peasant upstarts that might, by some stroke of sheer luck, find their way to our prestigious school? Lesser wizards and witches may get it into their heads that it is acceptable to challenge their betters.”
“If you’re going to keep singing the same old song, Malfoy, you should just get out of my way, because I don’t want to hear it,” she said wearily, clutching her broom with her good hand, leaning against it, not wanting to faint in front of everyone – and certainly not in front of Draco Malfoy.
“If you take back your declaration of war, admit that you were wrong and beg forgiveness,” he said, leaning forward, his voice a seductive whisper, “I’ll end it all.”
She took a step back, her eyes clouded with a mixture of loathing and fury, her lower lip trembling. His words, along with the warmth of his breath along her neck when he’d spoken, had sent shivers throughout her body, and the temptation to do what he asked was very great. Looking around her, looking at anything else just to avoid meeting his eyes, all she could see were the faces of her classmates – people who were just as tortured by him as she was, but who were smart enough to make their life easier by never challenging him. They were yelling at her, shouting at her to beg and plead because it would give them a much needed sense of superiority over her. Far behind the cheering group of 30 students encircling them, she could see Claire watching, tears streaming down her face. Ginny was hurt, wet, covered in mud, she was pretty sure there was blood from the cut on her forehead running down her face, and she was standing in the middle of a hostile crowd encouraging to throw her pride away and just put an end to all of this misery. The temptation of the relief that it would bring was so great, her knees were trembling at the thought of just releasing all her emotions, just crying and begging to have it all over, so that she didn’t have to try to be so strong any more.
But no. She may be wet, weak, and cold with a broken wrist, surrounded by people who hated her, but she was still Ginny Weasley, and she’d rather die before they saw her break.
“I won’t,” she said, her voice hoarse with the effort of keeping her tears in check.
“You will,” Malfoy declared coldly, with complete conviction. “And you’ll do it on your knees.”
“I won’t.” His mouth was tight with a twisted smile, and his eyes were burning with something she couldn’t quite make out through the haze of unshed tears welled up in her eyes.
“You will, whether you want to or not!” he shouted, snatching his wand from beneath his robes, pointing it out towards her. Claire’s warning ran through her head, he knows how to use two of the three Unforgivables, and he’s the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being. Ginny didn’t even know where her wand was, but even if she did have it, it wouldn’t do her much good as her spirits were fairly broken, right along with that wrist of hers. Only her stubbornness was keeping her on her feet. All she could do was glare at him with defiance in her eyes, even if they were shining with tears.
“Imp-” Draco had begun to shout when someone called out, interrupting him.
“I’ve been trying to work out that clever bit of magic you used the other day at lunch, Weasley,” the voice called, and through the haze of pain, Ginny turned slightly, confused that she would be hearing Blaise Zabini’s voice, and that he would be saying something so casual, as if Draco Malfoy wasn’t about to use the Imperius Curse on her. But sure enough, there he was, standing calmly with his arms crossed at the edge of the crowd, as if it was a perfectly normal day. “I’ve been going over it and I still can’t figure out how you did it.”
“Family secret,” she croaked out as best as she could, as her throat was tight with the effort not to start sobbing with relief. Zabini smiled, a mischievous half-smile as he walked towards her. The crowd that had been cheering with malicious pleasure not moments ago had all fallen silent in shock, as if they’d swallowed their own tongues from the shock of witnessing Blaise Zabini talking to none other than Ginny Weasley.
“Well, we might just have to arrange a trade. I promised to introduce you to Cho Chang, but I’m going to hold that promise hostage until you let me in on that secret,” he said, bending down to smile at her, one eyebrow raised teasingly. He reached into his pocket, and pulling out a handkerchief, dabbed at the blood trailing down her forehead before pressing it into her hand. She tried not to yelp as it jarred her broken wrist.
“Stinksap,” she breathed. “The secret ingredient is a small dash of Stinksap in the pastry, it makes the incantation work.”
Blaise Zabini looked at her queerly, before throwing his head back and laughing, no doubt remembering the afternoon he’d encountered her covered in that very vile substance. Ginny smiled slightly despite her situation, before she turned her attention back towards Draco, who’d been standing stock still since his friend had interrupted him. He’d lowered his wand, but his eyes were staring at her with such intensity that she wanted nothing more than to hide behind Zabini’s height in order to shield herself from it. His face was a mask of stony ice as his gaze passed between his best friend and the girl who’d declared herself his worst enemy.
“It’s over,” he said suddenly, before turning away and beginning to push himself through the crowd. Ginny heard his words, and her knees collapsed under her with the relief that it gave her, her grip on her broom sliding down as she crouched on the ground. She could hear a murmur of disappointment travel throughout the groups that had assembled to watch, questioning each other why Blaise Zabini would interrupt their fun for the Weasel, of all people.
“Look! It’s Cho Chang!” a fourth year girl shrieked suddenly. Chaos broke out, as the group of students – who were naturally inclined to gravitate towards anyone with power, celebrity or influence – rushed towards a figure who had been standing off to the side, murmurs of excitement and shrieks of hysterical laughter filling the air as they each clamored to reach the famous player before anyone else, leaving Ginny forgotten on the sodden grass.
She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of scrutiny and judgment removed from her shoulders. Blaise Zabini had rushed off, undoubtedly to act as a buffer between his friend and the crowd rushing over to catch a glimpse of the current heroine of the wizarding world. Ginny carefully picked herself up off the ground, sighing dismally at the fact that she was completely smeared with mud – it was all up her legs, her kilt was encrusted with it, and there were splatters all over her blouse and sweater. She still clutched Blaise’s handkerchief in one hand, and was about to make use of it to wipe her face – figuring it was also splattered with mud – when a quiet voice called her name.
“You have to be Ginny Weasley,” she said. Ginny turned slowly, and nearly fell backwards when she realized that it was none other than Cho Chang standing before her. Caught completely off guard by her presence – and the fact that she even knew Ginny’s name – that Ginny stared openly at her. Standing across from her, even though they were roughly the same height, Ginny felt horribly intimidated by the mere fact that she was so beautiful. She had that perfect shiny black hair that always looked immaculate, her eyes were dark and beautiful, and she had a kind smile on her face. Remembering the fact that she was standing before her, covered in mud after a humiliating flying mishap, Ginny’s face began to burn with embarrassment – an embarrassment which burned even stronger when Blaise came up behind Cho, standing next to her. “Blaise told me all about you.”
“Hopefully not everything,” Ginny murmured, thinking of the Stinksap incident.
“That was some fairly impressive flying, in spite of the circumstances,” she said and Ginny felt a thrill run through her. The championship Seeker had just complimented her flying skills! She was about to thank her and undoubtedly begin to gush embarrassingly about how much she admired Cho as a player, when the throng of students – which had grown even in the mere minutes that her presence had been noted – caught up with her, and began crowding her.
“We’d better get going,” Blaise said, eying the crowd.
“Ginny, my parents are throwing a party to welcome the team back on Friday night. I’d love for you to come,” she said, and Ginny stared at her with complete shock, fairly certain that she was hallucinating. “We’ve got to run now, but I’ll get someone to give you the details…” she said, searching the crowd, before spotting Pansy Parkinson and waving her over. Ginny watched in a mix of horror and confusion – how could someone like Cho Chang consider Pansy a friend? “Pansy, could you give Ginny an invitation to the party?”
“Of course,” Pansy said with a cheerful smile, and Ginny realized the answer to her own question. Of course, Pansy Parkinson was quite adept at hiding the uglier side of her nature, and had obviously chosen to do so in order to gain favor with the most popular witch in the nation. Cho smiled to her friend, before excusing herself, as the demanding students who were crowding around their new celebrity began to demand her attention. Only Ginny seemed to notice the ice behind Pansy’s tone. She glared at Ginny, that look of complete disdain that she had probably perfected before she was even old enough to have any snobbish inclinations. Sighing heavily, Pansy shoved a folded piece of parchment into her injured hand, causing Ginny to yelp in pain. Her wrist was now swollen to almost twice its size and was throbbing more painfully than ever.
“Thanks,” Ginny said ruefully, snatching the piece of paper with her right hand.
“I hope to see you there!” Pansy said brightly, her words sharp as a knife.
“Don’t worry your pampered little head about it, Parkinson. I won’t be spoiling your evening by showing up,” Ginny said, slightly bitterly. “We both know that I don’t have the right kind of attire for this type of event.”
“Oh, don’t let that stop you. It’s just a casual party. Any old robe would be acceptable – well, at least for someone in my circumstance. You, on the other hand… well, just come in the closest thing you have that resembles respectable clothing,” Pansy answered. Ginny stared at her suspiciously. There was no reason that Pansy would ever even try to convince her to come unless there was something else to it. She was about to voice this thought, when Pansy silenced her doubts. “Of course, all of the Slytherins will be there, and adding you to the mix can only bring about added entertainment. That is, if you’re not too embarrassed after today.”
“Oh, I think you’ll see me there,” Ginny said before walking away, knowing full well that Parkinson had just challenged her – testing her courage to face a room full of her enemies after what had happened today. It was only a few moments later when she wondered to herself whther she had learning nothing from this humiliating afternoon, such as the fact that it probably wasn’t the brightest idea to answer to the challenge of a Slytherin. She made her way painfully back towards the school, her thoughts turning back to her wrist, wondering what she was going to do about that. Madame Pomfrey had probably left soon after the last class was over, and even when she was in the infirmary, there was not more she was allowed to do than just set the bone and wrap it. Bloody Voldemort and his stupid restrictions on magical healing, she thought as every step she took made it pulsate painfully.
She reached the courtyard, and thinking that she was out of sight from everyone who was still down by the Whomping Willow fawning over Cho Chang, she dropped her broom, hearing it hit the cobblestones, and slumped against the wall, gasping for breath, determined not to let the sobs that had been trapped inside escape. Covering her face with her good hand, she leaned against the wall until her gasps turned into shaky deep breaths and she had a good handle on her emotions – at least until the time she reached the privacy of her own room, where she knew she would be all alone.
“You are an incredibly stubborn little wench, weasel.” It was the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy, only its tone was soft and rather gentle, almost affectionate. She looked up, cursing herself that she’d let him see her in such a state, to see him leaning against the wall barely a foot away, facing her. The shock of seeing him there – that he’d been standing there without her even noticing – jolted through her.
“You’ve had your fun for the day. Just go away,” she said, instinctively cradling her injured wrist to her body, protecting her vulnerability. She made a move to rush past him, but he caught her elbow, stopping her in her tracks, and guiding her back against the wall. “Haven’t you done enough?” she cried.
“I didn’t do a single thing. It was entirely your choice to accept the challenge, your choice to follow me through the tree and your idiotic choice to attempt a dive with a broken broomstick,” he said, sounding very matter-of-fact, but surprisingly, there was no trace of mockery in his voice. She made a move to get away from him again, but he leaned one arm against the wall, barring her way. He reached out, pressing a finger against her injured hand, causing her to gasp. “You can hardly hold me accountable because they were unwise decisions.”
“Just get away from me,” she said, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes began to burn. He’d been focused on her wrist, but he looked up at her words, a quick yet searching glance that made her quiver. Whatever he was planning, she was powerless to stop him – she had nothing left to fight with at this point.
“Hold still, stubborn weasel,” he ordered softly, taking her broken wrist gently into his hands. Ginny watched, struck speechless, as he carefully ran his fingers from her elbow to her fingertips, examining the swollen flesh with a serious and professional air. His fingers were long and slender, and despite the throbbing pain of her wrist, they moved so carefully – such a light touch, it was barely making contact at all – across her skin that it almost felt nice. Feeling slightly detached from the strange incident happening before her eyes, Ginny couldn’t help thinking to herself that they were nice looking hands – capable looking. Even if he is a Malfoy. He gently applied a bit of pressure against the inside of her wrist, cringing slightly as she hissed in pain, but then nodded, having spotted the point where the bone had broken. There was a deep look of concentration on his face, and Ginny realized it was the first time she had ever seen him without either a look of rage or that infuriated sneer on his face. She watched his face, and noted the intense look of concentration – he was observing, something he seemed to always be doing. In a moment of hysteria she would later attribute to the pain she was feeling, Ginny noted that he actually was rather handsome when his face wasn’t contorted with some malicious smile. He then pulled out his wand, still cradling her injured wrist with his other arm. He had pointed it at her wrist, and was about to say the spell to mend the bone when Ginny stopped him.
“You can’t do that. It’s illegal!” she breathed. Soon after Voldemort’s rise to power, he had begun to place the most unusual restrictions on the use of magic, especially when it came to healing. Most wizards, when sick or injured, had to resort to using Muggle methods of treating themselves. It was whispered that Voldemort, who was rumored to be obsessed with obtaining eternal life, wanted to regulate the opportunities for others to extend their lives through magical means, even if it meant just mending a broken bone magically.
“Then you’d better hope, for your sake, that we don’t get caught,” he said, sounding highly amused, before saying the spell, ignoring Ginny’s noises of protest. She jumped a little as she felt the intense heat as her bones knitted back together, and the chill that soon followed, causing the swollen flesh around the injury to return to normal. “It’s illegal for people like you. For those of my sort, it’s just…discouraged.”
“Must be nice to be able to afford to take that kind of risk,” she said, flexing her hand, feeling weak with relief as she could now move it without pain. She had almost smiled up at him, but had been able to stop herself before she did. He had released her hand, and had now focused his attention to the laceration on her forehead, leaning in closer and pressing his fingers to it gently to see if it was still bleeding, stroking her skin slowly. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat, and she squirmed to get away – it was hard to breath when he was that close.
“Just leave that,” she whispered, barely able to trust her own voice. He leaned an arm against the wall, cutting off her retreat again, the look in his eyes almost soft. If she didn’t know better, she could almost believe there was a touch of concern in his eyes.
“It will probably scar,” he said.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said stiffly.
“Wouldn’t want any marks to ruin that ugly face of yours,” he said, with a twitch of a smile, his eyes dancing mischievously, making Ginny realize with a start that he was teasing her. She scoffed, thrusting her chin up defiantly.
“You mean plain face. I’m known as the plain Weasley girl, not the ugly one,” she said, hardly able to believe the teasing tone in her own voice.
“My mistake,” he said, reaching out to touch her forehead again. She dodged his touch, for it was far too unnerving to have any contact between the two of them be so…gentle.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I wasn’t lying about that scar.”
“It doesn’t matter. Besides, I don’t want any favors from you,” she said boldly. He laughed; a quiet, short little laugh.
“Then consider it a favor to the rest of society. It would be a shame for such a plain face to be ruined for want of a little mending to avoid scarring. Now just be a good little weasel and stop squirming,” he said, tapping her forehead with his wand before she could protest even further. The slight sting was replaced with a pleasant tingling before the sensations faded away, leaving her skin smooth and un-lacerated.
“Where did you learn how to do that, anyway?” she asked suddenly, as an awkward silence fell over them, as he continued to examine her forehead, to ensure that it had indeed left no marks.
“I’m full of hidden talents. Just because I’m a worthless spoiled brat with an inflated sense of self importance does not mean I don’t have ambitions,” he said, with an arrogant smirk and suggestive look in his eyes as he tossed out the very insult she’d hurled at him, the day she’d punched him. Satisfied that her face was plain once again, he tucked his wand back into his robes, and walked away, completely casually as if, ten minutes before, he hadn’t been about to use an Unforgivable Curse on her.
She watched his retreating form, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over her as she flexed the fingers on the hand that had been injured, remembering the gentle way he’d cradled her arm as he’d healed her. She shrugged off the feeling, figuring that she’d probably just hit her head when she’d fallen from her broom. That was the only way to explain how long it took for the spot on her forehead where he’d touched her skin to stop tingling.
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A/N: Just in case it wasn’t overly clear, ugly and plain are SO Draco-speak for pretty.
Drawn from HYD:
1) Draco seeing Claire and Ginny together, her conversations with Blaise about Cho coming back and how much Ginny admires her
2) The Slytherins targetting Claire, and Ginny interfering, claiming that she should be the one they bully, not Claire.
3) After the Whomping Willow knocks her off her broom, the part where Draco tells her to beg for forgiveness - this is inspired from a similar scene in Episode 2, as is the fact that Blaise interferes, and that Draco says that 'it's over'
This is quite possibly my favorite chapter I’ve ever written, and it’s totally for Jade Summers, who, in her own special way, complained that this fic is taking my attention away from BC. I don’t know if she’s even reading it, but I thought I’d be snarky dedicating a chapter of the fic that’s taken my attention away from BC to her. Hee.
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Chapter 7: Breaking the Impasse
The crush of people in the Three Broomsticks had destroyed the restaurant’s usually quiet and comfortable atmosphere. Instead of the families and business partners dining in the main area, there were crowds and crowds of rowdy Quidditch fans, gathered together to celebrate an incredible victory. Their team, through a marvelous move by Cho Chang, had won the Quidditch World Cup by ten points. The entire city was in a frenzy of excitement, with people running through the streets, shouting merrily.
Ginny looked around with a sigh, before she set back to work. By all appearances, the celebrations were never going to cease, and she would be there the entire night, despite the large pile of homework she had waiting for her, work that she’d neglected all weekend, choosing instead to plot her revenge on Malfoy. She glanced at Madame Rosmerta with a pleading look in her eyes, and the older woman smiled apologetically and shrugged. With a sigh, Ginny set back to work, enjoying the crowd’s excitement despite the fact that it meant it would be hours before she could be free to take part in her own celebrations – she had a Butterbeer and a recording of the wireless broadcast of the game that Hermione had made for her while she was at school waiting for her back at her flat (along with her gigantic pile of homework).
Making her way through the excited crowd, she spotted a tall blonde girl waving to get her attention. Ginny frowned when she finally spotted her, and froze when she realized that it was Claire Carmichael, looking at her with a tentative smile and pleading eyes. Ginny returned the smile before the rush of Claire’s betrayal hit her again – this was the girl who she’d stuck her neck out for, for whom she’d received the Howler, the girl who had abandoned her and looked the other way when it had been Ginny’s turn to need help. She set her jaw, and walked towards her, the pain of Claire’s silence over the week fresh on her mind.
“Ginny! I’ve been trying to get you alone for so long, but every time I try to find you, you’re always with the Slytherins,” Claire cried when Ginny finally made it through the crowd to the corner where Claire was waiting for her.
“You’d better stop talking to me. You don’t want to make it appear to anyone that we’re friends, you’d just get yourself into hot water and it would all be for nothing,” Ginny said venomously.
“I’ve been trying to apologize, to find a way to tell you that I’m sorry,” Claire said, looking around her suspiciously, checking to see if there were any other Hogwarts students around.
“I have to get back to work, Claire,” Ginny said, her voice cold impatient.
“When are you finished? Can I meet you after? I’d really like to talk, Ginny,” she pleaded, sounding desperate. Ginny remembered her earlier kindnesses and the thrill she’d felt upon believing that she’d actually made a true friend at Hogwarts, and her resolve to be cold towards the pretty girl melted.
“Rosmerta will probably close down around 11, and I should be done soon after, she has enough closers on tonight. Meet me here then,” Ginny said. Claire smiled, and jumped up excitedly.
“Thank you, Ginny,” she said, sincerely.
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The streets of Hogsmeade were alive with the victory celebrations; it was sheer chaos and any attempts to move around the streets were nearly impossible. In the center square, someone had erected a banner that was charmed to count down the hours until the Quidditch team was set to return to Hogsmeade, to attend the festivities that were being hastily arranged to welcome back the championship team to the city where many of the members were from; particularly Cho Chang, whose family had moved there when she had started attending Hogwarts, who was officially the hometown heroine.
Draco Malfoy and two of his closest friends were walking around the downtown area, watching with disdain as the lower classes celebrated in the streets, as they contemplated the best spot to enjoy themselves, away from the commoners who made up the crowd.
“The city is an absolute mess,” Goyle said, as a drunken wizard stumbled past him.
“It won’t be for long. The team is supposed to be returning tomorrow, and you know the mayor and many of the ministers are going to be breaking their backs to roll out the red carpet welcome for them,” Crabbe laughed.
“Where is Zabini?” Draco asked, the first time he’d spoken since his friends had appeared at his doorstep, insisting that he come out with them. After the “incident” at lunch (for that was what they were calling it, not daring to prod his temper by referring to it in any detail), he’d been deathly silent all afternoon, only responding to anyone who was brave enough to speak to him with a dangerous-looking glare that had enough barley controlled rage behind it to boil water.
“He’s probably camped out under that count-down banner in the square, watching the time until Cho comes back tick away,” Goyle said, with an impatient air. As a boy who had never had a real relationship, and switched from girl to girl as soon as he grew bored with one, he couldn’t quite comprehend Blaise’s preoccupation with just one girl that he’d known his whole life.
“He said he needed the night to himself, to ‘reflect’,” Crabbe said, with a roll of his eyes. “You’d think he’d be more excited – Cho’s going to be back here tomorrow, and he’s acting like it’s the end of the world.”
“It’s because they won. Now that they’re the World Champions, she won’t be staying here for long. She’ll probably join a pro-team, and be on tour and such, and then he’ll hardly ever see her,” Crabbe said.
“Let’s go to the town square, that’s where he’ll probably be,” Draco said, noting to himself that the Three Broomsticks was across the street from where they were heading.
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Things had miraculously started to calm down shortly after 10, as the reality of work the next morning began to settle in on those who had been celebrating since noon. The exhausted staff had banded together, working quickly to close the place down, most eager to join the last dregs of the celebrations occurring across the street in the town square. After wiping off the last of the tables and helping Hermione sweep the floor, Madame Rosmerta waved Ginny off, telling her to get home and take care of her homework and promising her a night off in return for agreeing to stay the couple hours after her shift was supposed to end in order to assist with the extra customers.
After changing out of her uniform and relating to Hermione the success of the twins’ creation, complete with an imitation of the sight of Malfoy flapping his wings around in surprise, Ginny spotted Claire waiting for her through the large store-front window. Calling goodnight to Hermione over her shoulder, Ginny grabbed her bag and headed out to meet her.
Their conversation was definitely stilted and awkward, as they walked slowly down the street, heading in no particular direction.
“I never had a chance to thank you for what you did for me, and after all the trouble it caused you, I was so afraid that you’d hate me for it,” Claire was explaining. “And… I saw everything they were doing to you, and I was terrified that the same thing would happen to me.”
Ginny looked up in surprise at Claire’s honesty, and nodded slowly. “I assumed that’s what happened.”
“You’ve just been so incredible, Ginny. I don’t know how you’ve stood up to Draco Malfoy! He’s terrifying, and you’ve just faced him down like you weren’t afraid at all,” Claire said earnestly.
“I was at first, but there’s really nothing to be afraid of. He’s just a pompous spoiled child who likes to kick and scream when he doesn’t get his way, but what has he ever done to keep everyone around him so afraid of displeasing him?” Ginny asked with exasperation. “Nothing, and it’s about time everyone realizes it, and takes away the only real power he has – fear.”
“But Ginny!” Claire exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, a look of abject horror in her eyes. “You have every reason to be afraid of Draco Malfoy! Haven’t you heard the stories?”
“What stories?” Ginny asked suspiciously, preparing to hear some tall tale rumor that she could later brush off as ridiculous embellishment.
“He knows how to use two of the three Unforgivables, and he’s the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being! They say that when he was only 14, he got so angry with someone that he nearly killed him, and that it was only because Professor McGonagall was there to stop him that he didn’t, and because of who his father is, no teacher dares to punish him for whatever he does. He’s really a dangerous person, Ginny,” Claire said breathlessly. Ginny stared at her, this new information running through her mind.
“I’m sure that all sounds like it is true, Claire, but I’ve been at Hogwarts for six years with him and this is the first that I’ve heard of it,” Ginny said quietly, mostly to herself.
“But it is! The sister of the boy who was cursed was in my class at Beauxbatons, and she left the term early to visit her brother at Saint Mungo’s!” Claire cried and Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. “No one, even now, knows what provoked him to curse him so badly, but Jill always said that even her brother didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it. And you’ve done what no other person has ever dared to do – you stood up to him, you fought back and you’re still alive to tell about it!”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Ginny said, even though she fighting against a wave a panic that threatened to wash over her entire body. Claire grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.
“You were just so brave Ginny, I could never have done what you did. And I was too scared even to speak to you at school, even after all you did for me. I’m really sorry,” she said emphatically, and Ginny felt her panic recede as she saw the absolute sincerity in her eyes.
“You were right not to speak up for me. In fact, if anyone were to see us together, it would be really bad, so you should probably go,” Ginny said, looking around her. “I wouldn’t want you to get caught and have a Howler sent to you, because then everything would have been a huge waste.”
“Hey, isn’t that Blaise Zabini standing there? What do you think he’s doing, just staring up at that banner with the count-down clock on it?” Claire said suddenly. Ginny looked over to the middle of the town square, and indeed, the tall form of Blaise Zabini was standing in the middle, watching the clock count down. Ginny felt her face flush as she remembered the moments they’d spent together, and the actual conversation they’d had that afternoon. It had felt almost like they were friends. After hearing the results of the final Quidditch World Cup match, she’d been wondering how he’d react – he hadn’t seem too excited by the prospect of Cho Chang’s success there. Telling Claire that she’d be right back, she ran across the street towards him.
“You must be excited about your friend returning,” she said, trying to appear as casual as possible, and not as if she’d just walked across the street to talk to him. Blaise looked down at her, appearing surprised to see her, as if he’d been lost in his own world and her voice had pulled him out of it. “And about the win, too, of course.”
“Yeah,” he said simply, without sounding excited at all. Ginny looked up at him in confusion and noted with surprise that he seemed almost sad. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Yeah, I guess I should be happy for her.”
“She’s a bit of a national hero already – her picture is in every magazine and newspaper and she endorses and models for all those products. Now everyone will know who she is,” Ginny said brightly, trying to think of something to cheer him up. Blaise’s face was so neutral and unemotional.
“And everyone can have a piece of her,” he said, with a strange tone to his voice that caused a swell of anxiety in Ginny as he spoke. He laughed – one soft little laugh that hardly seemed a laughed at all, and gave Ginny a wry half-smile. “She plans to stop by Hogwarts some time tomorrow. I’ll introduce you.”
“Really?” Ginny cried, grabbing his arm in her excitement. He nodded, and realizing what she’d done, she released his arm, dropping it as if she’d been burned. Feeling a flush of heat rush to her face, Ginny stood beside him awkwardly, trying to figure out what she should say, but he was already staring back at the clock again and was no longer aware of her existence. Nerves tingling with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, Ginny ran back over to Claire, who was waiting and watching her with a great deal of curiosity.
“Are you friends with Blaise Zabini?” she asked in an awed whisper. Ginny laughed, shaking her head.
“He’s not as bad as the others, he doesn’t seem to mind when I talk to him,” she said, remembering the way he’d come to her rescue the day she’d been pulled into that empty classroom by the two Slytherins that Malfoy had sent after her. “He seems rather snobby because he’s so quiet, but he can be pretty nice.”
Claire studied her for a moment, before smiling indulgently with a knowing look in her eyes.
“Sure, he’s nice. The fact that he’s bloody gorgeous has nothing at all to do with your opinion of him,” she laughed. “So bloody gorgeous, you seem to also be forgetting that he’s a Slytherin and your arch nemesis’ best friend!”
“Claire!” Ginny protested, dashing after her friend as she started walking down the street, laughing after her, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched by a pair of gray eyes that had been following them since they had exited the Three Broomsticks together.
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Snape’s face had taken on a lovely shade of puce by the end of his class, and he was threatening to curse the next person who answered his question with the wrong answer. Ginny watched with a great amount of amusement, as she was normally the one who was the object of Snape’s threats, but as nearly every student was preoccupied with the exciting rumor that the World Championship Seeker would be stopping by the school before the end of the day, the level of distraction was extremely high. So accustomed to being excluded from any major event that occurred by the sheer fact that she didn’t fit the ‘criteria’, Ginny felt a small thrill run down her spine as she thought of Blaise Zabini’s promise to introduce her to Cho Chang. She kept reminding herself that he was only a Slytherin and therefore, his word shouldn’t mean too much, but the possibility that he’d do something so nice and unexpected caused a flurry of butterflies to stir in her stomach.
By the end of the school day, however, no championship Quidditch team had appeared on the school grounds, and tempers began to run rather high. Ginny laughed to herself, despite her own disappointment, as she watched the spoiled and pampered brats try to deal with frustration of not getting what they wanted. The whole school would have been sulking by the end of the day, if word of the victory party that the Changs were hosting in Cho’s honour hadn’t spread around, renewing their hopes that they would get a chance to associate with the national hero – if they were among those lucky enough to receive an invitation.
Ginny had just stored her books in her bag, and was reaching into the storage cupboard where she kept her broomstick during school hours when a flurry of excitement caught her attention. A group of first year boys were running down the hall, obviously excited about something. Curiously, Ginny craned her neck in an attempt to glean what the excitement was all about.
“Peter, where are you going?” a stander-by called out.
“Didn’t you hear?” a short, pudgy boy who had been running with the pack asked incredulously as he paused to answer his friend. “There’s been another Howler! They’ve got her down by the pitch for the Slytherins’ Quidditch practice!”
“Her? Another girl?”
“It’s Claire Carmichael, one of the sixth years. She was caught talking to the Weasel by Draco Malfoy last night and he’s tagged her for it. Come on, I want to get down there as fast as possible! They say she started crying as soon as she got the Howler, not like that bloody stubborn Gryffindor, so she’s probably going to break pretty fast!”
Ginny’s head snapped up, feeling as though she’d been struck by lightning and it became very difficult to breathe as she became dizzy with anger. She was going to kill that arrogant little bastard! Without any further thought, without even considering the disturbing account that Claire had given her the night before of exactly what Malfoy was capable of, she wrenched her broom out of the cupboard, slamming the door shut, and she ran as fast as she could towards the pitch, not even noticing that she’d dropped her book bag on the floor.
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Claire Carmichael’s hands were shaking, and her ears were filled with the jeering of the other students, who were watching her as she stood in the middle of the pitch, clutching a Beater’s club tightly in her hands as she looked to the sky, half afraid that another Bludger would be heading her way. Her knees were covered in mud from the last time one of the heavy balls had rocketed towards her and she’d had to dash out of the way or face being smashed by the violently careening object. The shouting students who had come to watch the sixth year girl “help” the Slytherins with their Quidditch practice had formed a circle around her, so that she was unable to escape, and had taken to pushing her off balance whenever the members of the Quidditch team, circling above them, chose to bat a Bludger towards the shaking girl.
The crowd was so completely preoccupied on watching her struggle against them that they hardly noticed as Ginny Weasley pushed her way through them, clutching her broom tightly in her hand until she broke through the crowd, rushing to stand in front of Claire, swinging out wildly with her broom when some of the more eager boys tried to push her out of the way. They were all yelling and staring at her with eyes filled with anger and rage. They’d already been disappointed once today, and weren’t about to let someone they despised bring about another disappointment, but there was also a feeling of excitement, that the moment they’d been waiting for had finally come. The crazy Weasley girl, who had dared to challenge the Slytherins, who still hadn’t suffered the consequences of her actions, might have finally gone too far, and that possibility meant entertainment for the bored students who had gathered around to torture Claire.
“You lot of bloody cowards had better back away before I curse all of you,” she yelled, holding her broom out threateningly in front of her, just inches away from the faces of three third year Slytherins. She was so focused on glaring back at all those eyes that were glaring at her, that she almost didn’t notice the hissing noise of the Bludger as it was rammed through the air, towards her. Luckily, her Quidditch training kicked in, and she looked up in time to notice it. The crowd around her dashed away amid a flurry of startled cries. Driven purely by instinct borne of many afternoons spent out on the pitch, Ginny swung her broom out as hard as she could, and smashed the Bludger back up into the sky, hearing a large crack fill the air as the butt of her broom splintered from the impact.
Gasping after the Bludger was safely airborne again, Ginny looked above her, and spotted the smug face of Draco Malfoy, holding a Beater’s club. Trembling with anger, Ginny glared at him defiantly before looking down to figure out how much damage her broom had sustained in defense of its owner. Malfoy, who had been hovering just above the crowd, slowly lowered himself to the ground, dismounting gracefully right in front of her.
“Problem, weasel? You’re interfering with our Quidditch practice,” he said brightly, as if he hadn’t almost succeeded in taking her head off with a Bludger.
“You don’t even play Quidditch!” Ginny snapped without even thinking, and immediately cursed her tongue, wishing she’d had a wittier response prepared. But it was true that Malfoy did not play on his House’s Quidditch team, even though many of the girls who sighed after him often spoke about how well he played the game. It was rumored that he did not wish to play in a league where the level of competition was so “below” his level of “talent”. It was actually a blessing for those who did want to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, for if Malfoy or even one of the more high-profile Slytherins ever decided they wanted to play, a large majority of those on the opposing teams would ensure that they were not beaten, so as not to insult the powerful them and face the consequences, which would have killed any sense of competition at the school.
“We have an important game coming up, so, magnanimous person that I am, I offered my expertise in coaching our team,” he said, completely arrogant and completely unaware of how absolutely ridiculous he sounded. “Carmichael, here, was providing some assistance to our Beaters. And you are interfering, weasel. Careful, you may cost your House some points for such a show of bad sportsmanship.”
“You leave Claire out of this! This is between you and me, so you’d better leave her alone!” Ginny cried, stepping up to Malfoy, determined to glare at him as threateningly as she possibly could. He looked down at her with a strange half-smile on his face, before he looked away with a laugh.
“Are you confused about something, weasel? Or perhaps your memory isn’t very sharp – you are a poor little Weasley, it’s only to be expected,” he said, beginning to circle around her slowly, like a shark around its prey.
“What nonsense are you talking now, Malfoy? Or are you just trying to find some way to explain this situation that doesn’t make you look like a pathetic coward by getting your thugs to gang up on a terrified girl?” Ginny spat at him. He stopped in his tracks, a cold expression on his face and a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“You’re the one who declared war, weasel. Don’t blame me for what happens to your friends, because the minute you did that, they became fair game,” he said, his voice low and chilling. “Divide and conquer. You’ve already chosen your own war tactic, and I’ve merely followed suit.”
“War tactic?” she questioned, before remembering the prank she’d pulled with the Canary Cream. Had he known it was her? She had figured it was a risk, considering that there were not many people around who would otherwise be willing to anger the Malfoy heir to that extent, but since nothing had happened immediately following that incident, she’d hoped that he hadn’t been bright enough to figure out who it had been. But it seemed he did know, and that now Claire was paying the price for her petty revenge. “I told you that if you hit me, I was going to hit you right back. That was for the posters, and it has nothing to do with Claire. If you want to fight back, then I’m your target, not her or anybody else!”
Malfoy moved his eyes from their intent gaze at her, looking instead at Claire, who was now collapsed on the sodden ground, sobbing and covered with mud. When his eyes fell back on Ginny, she had to fight against the urge to squirm under that appraising and cold look, and she had to wonder how anyone could look so casually threatening while leaning nonchalantly against his broom.
“I’ll make you an offer, weasel, seeing as I’m such a great and generous man,” he said, stepping towards her with his trademark swagger, causing her to take a step back to avoid being too close to him. There was something about his physical presence that completely unnerved her – she’d experienced it at the Three Broomsticks the night he’d caught her in front of the mirror. She’d been powerless to move away from him, even as his closeness made her skin crawl. “I will call off the whole game – all of it, if you can do one thing.”
“Whatever it is, it had better be worth it, because I’m certainly won’t be letting you off too easily!” she cried out defiantly, which was answered with a number of loud jeering cries from their spectators. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt a swell of panic rush through her body and she became slightly light-headed. Malfoy, for his part, looked slightly startled at her challenge, before smiling maliciously, his eyes falling on her broom, the bottom of which had splintered from the impact of the Bludger.
“Everyone has heard you boast enough times at how well you fly, considering the laughable state of your pathetic second-hand broom. Let’s put that arrogance of yours to the test. If you can catch me, I’ll call the whole thing off, and I’ll even take back your friend’s Howler,” he said, his eyes bright with pleasure as he spoke. Looming over her, his voice silky and dangerous, he continued. “However, if it turns out that you’re just a noisy girl with no Quidditch skills after all, nothing changes. The war is still on, and everything and everyone is fair prey.”
“You’d better hope that fancy broom of yours has some really amazing built-in features. Because you are going to need all the help you can get,” Ginny answered, her eyes lit with the thrill of the challenge, clutching her broom, ignoring the shattered end and splintered shaft, and prepared to mount. “Shall I give you a head start? As a matter of courtesy, of course, because I’m inevitably going to destroy you.”
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They had been headed towards the Quidditch pitch, knowing that the Slytherins were holding practice after classes were over and since Slytherin practices always drew a crowd, it would be the place to go to find their friends. But as Blaise Zabini and Cho Chang neared closer, they spotted two people on brooms bolting through the air, flying away from the pitch. Even more curious was the crowd of people who were running after them, all with their heads craned back to watch the sky as they ran, following the flyers. As the students ran past where they’d stopped on the path in order to figure out what exactly was happening, hardly a single person noticed who they were or that they were standing there, they were all so engrossed in watching the happenings above them.
“What is this all about, do you think?” Cho asked with a curious smile on her face. “This isn’t the way I remember Quidditch practice at Hogwarts.”
“Let me find out,” Blaise answered, frowning as he recognized Draco as the one on the broomstick ahead of the one who was lagging behind. That broomstick was obviously malfunctioning, as was evident by the trail of smoke he or she was leaving behind him. Spotting Crabbe among the throng following after the two in the air, Blaise called out to him, asking what was happening.
“Malfoy challenged Weasley to a race. If she catches him, he’ll take back her Howler, and the one he sent the Carmichael girl this afternoon,” Crabbe called back. Hearing this, Blaise looked up to see where they were heading, and knowing his friend’s pride and the way he thought better than most, he groaned.
“He’s not headed where I think he’s heading, is he?” Cho’s soft voice asked, full of concern. “He can’t possibly be that foolish!”
“It’s Draco,” Blaise answered, with a pointed look. “Of course he’s that foolish.”
“You have to stop him!” Cho said, her dark eyes filled with worry. “He’ll get the both of them killed, but especially her, judging by the way her broomstick seems to be lagging behind. There’s no way she’ll be able to get around the tree, not like that.”
Blaise sighed heavily, but one look at the earnestly pleading eyes of Cho Chang, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with them as they followed the crowd, which was definitely headed in the direction of the Whomping Willow, a tree which Draco Malfoy had once successfully flown around twice in succession without being hit by the tree’s dangerously flailing limbs, a fact he often announced whenever someone even remotely questioned his flying abilities.
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If you can’t beat the speed of their broom, then make sure you out-fly them, her brother Charlie had always told her while she watched the boys play Quidditch. Charlie was the best player of her brothers, and probably could have had a shot at playing professionally, had he been allowed to attend a wizarding school that played Quidditch. As she followed behind Malfoy, the wind screaming past her, she could feel the way that her broom was pulling to the left, and the sluggish response it was giving to her movements. Not knowing quite how much damage that Bludger had actually done, Ginny knew that she would never be able to catch Malfoy, who was flying on a superior broom that wasn’t broken.
That just meant that she had to out-maneuver him. She’d followed him as he flew away from the pitch, looking up only to see that he seemed to be leading her closer to the edge the Forbidden Forest, a fact that gave her the advantage that she was looking for. The Weasley children were always playing Quidditch – out in the open spaces near their house when they it was dark enough to avoid detection by the Muggles who lived nearby, or in the woods when it wasn’t. That was where she’d learned to maneuver, in order to dodge all the tree branches. But that was never on a broken broom, a voice in her head warned her. Seeing Malfoy pull to the left suddenly, Ginny ignored the voice and followed him, determined to at least keep pace as closely as possible until her opportunity appeared.
Unfortunately, that opportunity would never emerge. Just as she was planning to swiftly change directions and cut off Malfoy’s route, the tree he’d lead her towards started to move. Cursing loudly, she realized with a jolt of fear that they’d flown right into the path of the bloody Whomping Willow. She swerved to the right as a large branch came hurtling towards her, and nearly screamed as she heard it swish past her ear, barely missing her head. She could feel the way her broom was pulling to the left, slowing her down and decreasing her ability to make any swift maneuvers. As another branch swung towards her, she considered pulling away, feeling that she probably couldn’t follow Malfoy as he wove in and out of the shifting branches, not with the way her broom was behaving. But just before she was about to turn out of her current flight path, away from danger and out of the tree’s reach, she saw him look over his shoulder, an arrogant smirk on his face and a knowing look in his eyes. He knew that there was no way she could keep up, and that common sense would force her to pull out, to let him win.
Well, Ginny was never one for common sense – at least not when there was a challenge thrown into the mix and her pride was on the line, along with all the other stakes. Gritting her teeth, she urged her broom on, following him through a large thick of branches, making slight adjustments to avoid being struck. He looked back again, and this time, instead of an arrogant smirk, his face flushed with rage, and he pushed his broom faster, taking a sudden veer upwards, shooting up through the branches, darting deftly as the branches swung towards him. Ginny followed him up, but she was too slow and she felt a hiss of pain as a tree branch whipped her forehead, causing her to cry out.
Shooting out of the trees, Malfoy suddenly changed directions, heading straight down. Smiling to herself, knowing that Wronski Feints were her specialty, Ginny dove after him, dodging branches as well as she could. A few snagged at her sweater, but she ignored him, her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. Just before he smashed headlong to the ground, Malfoy pulled up, taking a turn around the tree’s large trunk. As Ginny began to pull up herself, she felt a strange shudder from her broom, and nearly panicked as it refused to pull out of the dive. Yanking up, pulling with all her might, her hands slippery with perspiration, she was finally able to change directions. She’d been so caught up with trying to keep from crashing into the ground that she’d had no time to scout ahead of her, so when an enormous tree branch swung suddenly in front of her, she had no time to move out of its way.
It caught her on the side, smashing into her ribcage. The force of the impact sent her flying from her broom, and she threw her arms out in front of her, trying to break her fall with something other than her face. She landed, with her right arm curled under her body, hearing a sickening snap of her wrist and feeling a giant shock of pain jolt through her body. She lay on the cold, wet ground, feeling muddy water seep into her clothing as she struggled to move, to breathe, to do something. The force of her fall had knocked the wind from her, and her chest was protesting as she tried to draw a breath. Above the din of the crowd that had gathered and seen her fall, she could hear the whistling of the Whomping Willow’s tree branches as they swung through the air, and knew that she had to get out of its way before it decided that knocking her off her broom wasn’t sufficient and tried to smash her into the ground.
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She pushed herself up to her feet using her left arm while cradling her throbbing right hand to her body, crying out at the way her movements jarred her already-swelling wrist. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she saw the angle at which it was bent. Disoriented from her fall and pain, she stumbled away from the tree just in time, as a large branch swerved towards her, bashing the ground where she’d been laying. She could hear them laughing at her, but with her throbbing hand, the stinging cut across her forehead and the fact that she was covered in mud and shivering from the cold air, it was difficult to care.
What mattered most was the fact that she’d lost. The crowd was settling in around her, their eyes shining in triumph that their leader, their bloody idol, hadn’t lost to such a lowly Gryffindor who talked a big game. Ignoring them, she sloshed through the muddied ground to where her broom was lying in a giant puddle. Her movements were slow and stiff, as almost every muscle in her body was aching, and she noticed that the side of her body where the tree struck was beginning to throb painfully every time she took more than a shallow breath.
“I’m still waiting for you to destroy me, Weasley,” Draco Malfoy called out, his voice filled with amusement. He’d just jumped off his broom, landing a few feet in front of her. She lifted her head, unable to say anything in response. The most she could muster was a look that she could only hope communicated the depths of her hatred for him. “It looks like you really are only talk,” he said. “It’s a pity. I’m beginning to grow bored with the game, but it looks like it’s going to carry on a bit longer.”
“That’s fine. Just leave Claire out of it,” she muttered, hating how weak her voice sounded. Those eyes of his – the ones that could spot every weakness and sore point about her very being, so that he could use it to his advantage – were hard enough to face when she was a hundred percent, she never wanted to seem weak in front of him.
“You know I can’t possibly do that. You,” he said, raising his voice as he looked around at their spectators, “declared war on me and the rest of the Slytherins. What kind of precedent does this set for other peasant upstarts that might, by some stroke of sheer luck, find their way to our prestigious school? Lesser wizards and witches may get it into their heads that it is acceptable to challenge their betters.”
“If you’re going to keep singing the same old song, Malfoy, you should just get out of my way, because I don’t want to hear it,” she said wearily, clutching her broom with her good hand, leaning against it, not wanting to faint in front of everyone – and certainly not in front of Draco Malfoy.
“If you take back your declaration of war, admit that you were wrong and beg forgiveness,” he said, leaning forward, his voice a seductive whisper, “I’ll end it all.”
She took a step back, her eyes clouded with a mixture of loathing and fury, her lower lip trembling. His words, along with the warmth of his breath along her neck when he’d spoken, had sent shivers throughout her body, and the temptation to do what he asked was very great. Looking around her, looking at anything else just to avoid meeting his eyes, all she could see were the faces of her classmates – people who were just as tortured by him as she was, but who were smart enough to make their life easier by never challenging him. They were yelling at her, shouting at her to beg and plead because it would give them a much needed sense of superiority over her. Far behind the cheering group of 30 students encircling them, she could see Claire watching, tears streaming down her face. Ginny was hurt, wet, covered in mud, she was pretty sure there was blood from the cut on her forehead running down her face, and she was standing in the middle of a hostile crowd encouraging to throw her pride away and just put an end to all of this misery. The temptation of the relief that it would bring was so great, her knees were trembling at the thought of just releasing all her emotions, just crying and begging to have it all over, so that she didn’t have to try to be so strong any more.
But no. She may be wet, weak, and cold with a broken wrist, surrounded by people who hated her, but she was still Ginny Weasley, and she’d rather die before they saw her break.
“I won’t,” she said, her voice hoarse with the effort of keeping her tears in check.
“You will,” Malfoy declared coldly, with complete conviction. “And you’ll do it on your knees.”
“I won’t.” His mouth was tight with a twisted smile, and his eyes were burning with something she couldn’t quite make out through the haze of unshed tears welled up in her eyes.
“You will, whether you want to or not!” he shouted, snatching his wand from beneath his robes, pointing it out towards her. Claire’s warning ran through her head, he knows how to use two of the three Unforgivables, and he’s the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being. Ginny didn’t even know where her wand was, but even if she did have it, it wouldn’t do her much good as her spirits were fairly broken, right along with that wrist of hers. Only her stubbornness was keeping her on her feet. All she could do was glare at him with defiance in her eyes, even if they were shining with tears.
“Imp-” Draco had begun to shout when someone called out, interrupting him.
“I’ve been trying to work out that clever bit of magic you used the other day at lunch, Weasley,” the voice called, and through the haze of pain, Ginny turned slightly, confused that she would be hearing Blaise Zabini’s voice, and that he would be saying something so casual, as if Draco Malfoy wasn’t about to use the Imperius Curse on her. But sure enough, there he was, standing calmly with his arms crossed at the edge of the crowd, as if it was a perfectly normal day. “I’ve been going over it and I still can’t figure out how you did it.”
“Family secret,” she croaked out as best as she could, as her throat was tight with the effort not to start sobbing with relief. Zabini smiled, a mischievous half-smile as he walked towards her. The crowd that had been cheering with malicious pleasure not moments ago had all fallen silent in shock, as if they’d swallowed their own tongues from the shock of witnessing Blaise Zabini talking to none other than Ginny Weasley.
“Well, we might just have to arrange a trade. I promised to introduce you to Cho Chang, but I’m going to hold that promise hostage until you let me in on that secret,” he said, bending down to smile at her, one eyebrow raised teasingly. He reached into his pocket, and pulling out a handkerchief, dabbed at the blood trailing down her forehead before pressing it into her hand. She tried not to yelp as it jarred her broken wrist.
“Stinksap,” she breathed. “The secret ingredient is a small dash of Stinksap in the pastry, it makes the incantation work.”
Blaise Zabini looked at her queerly, before throwing his head back and laughing, no doubt remembering the afternoon he’d encountered her covered in that very vile substance. Ginny smiled slightly despite her situation, before she turned her attention back towards Draco, who’d been standing stock still since his friend had interrupted him. He’d lowered his wand, but his eyes were staring at her with such intensity that she wanted nothing more than to hide behind Zabini’s height in order to shield herself from it. His face was a mask of stony ice as his gaze passed between his best friend and the girl who’d declared herself his worst enemy.
“It’s over,” he said suddenly, before turning away and beginning to push himself through the crowd. Ginny heard his words, and her knees collapsed under her with the relief that it gave her, her grip on her broom sliding down as she crouched on the ground. She could hear a murmur of disappointment travel throughout the groups that had assembled to watch, questioning each other why Blaise Zabini would interrupt their fun for the Weasel, of all people.
“Look! It’s Cho Chang!” a fourth year girl shrieked suddenly. Chaos broke out, as the group of students – who were naturally inclined to gravitate towards anyone with power, celebrity or influence – rushed towards a figure who had been standing off to the side, murmurs of excitement and shrieks of hysterical laughter filling the air as they each clamored to reach the famous player before anyone else, leaving Ginny forgotten on the sodden grass.
She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of scrutiny and judgment removed from her shoulders. Blaise Zabini had rushed off, undoubtedly to act as a buffer between his friend and the crowd rushing over to catch a glimpse of the current heroine of the wizarding world. Ginny carefully picked herself up off the ground, sighing dismally at the fact that she was completely smeared with mud – it was all up her legs, her kilt was encrusted with it, and there were splatters all over her blouse and sweater. She still clutched Blaise’s handkerchief in one hand, and was about to make use of it to wipe her face – figuring it was also splattered with mud – when a quiet voice called her name.
“You have to be Ginny Weasley,” she said. Ginny turned slowly, and nearly fell backwards when she realized that it was none other than Cho Chang standing before her. Caught completely off guard by her presence – and the fact that she even knew Ginny’s name – that Ginny stared openly at her. Standing across from her, even though they were roughly the same height, Ginny felt horribly intimidated by the mere fact that she was so beautiful. She had that perfect shiny black hair that always looked immaculate, her eyes were dark and beautiful, and she had a kind smile on her face. Remembering the fact that she was standing before her, covered in mud after a humiliating flying mishap, Ginny’s face began to burn with embarrassment – an embarrassment which burned even stronger when Blaise came up behind Cho, standing next to her. “Blaise told me all about you.”
“Hopefully not everything,” Ginny murmured, thinking of the Stinksap incident.
“That was some fairly impressive flying, in spite of the circumstances,” she said and Ginny felt a thrill run through her. The championship Seeker had just complimented her flying skills! She was about to thank her and undoubtedly begin to gush embarrassingly about how much she admired Cho as a player, when the throng of students – which had grown even in the mere minutes that her presence had been noted – caught up with her, and began crowding her.
“We’d better get going,” Blaise said, eying the crowd.
“Ginny, my parents are throwing a party to welcome the team back on Friday night. I’d love for you to come,” she said, and Ginny stared at her with complete shock, fairly certain that she was hallucinating. “We’ve got to run now, but I’ll get someone to give you the details…” she said, searching the crowd, before spotting Pansy Parkinson and waving her over. Ginny watched in a mix of horror and confusion – how could someone like Cho Chang consider Pansy a friend? “Pansy, could you give Ginny an invitation to the party?”
“Of course,” Pansy said with a cheerful smile, and Ginny realized the answer to her own question. Of course, Pansy Parkinson was quite adept at hiding the uglier side of her nature, and had obviously chosen to do so in order to gain favor with the most popular witch in the nation. Cho smiled to her friend, before excusing herself, as the demanding students who were crowding around their new celebrity began to demand her attention. Only Ginny seemed to notice the ice behind Pansy’s tone. She glared at Ginny, that look of complete disdain that she had probably perfected before she was even old enough to have any snobbish inclinations. Sighing heavily, Pansy shoved a folded piece of parchment into her injured hand, causing Ginny to yelp in pain. Her wrist was now swollen to almost twice its size and was throbbing more painfully than ever.
“Thanks,” Ginny said ruefully, snatching the piece of paper with her right hand.
“I hope to see you there!” Pansy said brightly, her words sharp as a knife.
“Don’t worry your pampered little head about it, Parkinson. I won’t be spoiling your evening by showing up,” Ginny said, slightly bitterly. “We both know that I don’t have the right kind of attire for this type of event.”
“Oh, don’t let that stop you. It’s just a casual party. Any old robe would be acceptable – well, at least for someone in my circumstance. You, on the other hand… well, just come in the closest thing you have that resembles respectable clothing,” Pansy answered. Ginny stared at her suspiciously. There was no reason that Pansy would ever even try to convince her to come unless there was something else to it. She was about to voice this thought, when Pansy silenced her doubts. “Of course, all of the Slytherins will be there, and adding you to the mix can only bring about added entertainment. That is, if you’re not too embarrassed after today.”
“Oh, I think you’ll see me there,” Ginny said before walking away, knowing full well that Parkinson had just challenged her – testing her courage to face a room full of her enemies after what had happened today. It was only a few moments later when she wondered to herself whther she had learning nothing from this humiliating afternoon, such as the fact that it probably wasn’t the brightest idea to answer to the challenge of a Slytherin. She made her way painfully back towards the school, her thoughts turning back to her wrist, wondering what she was going to do about that. Madame Pomfrey had probably left soon after the last class was over, and even when she was in the infirmary, there was not more she was allowed to do than just set the bone and wrap it. Bloody Voldemort and his stupid restrictions on magical healing, she thought as every step she took made it pulsate painfully.
She reached the courtyard, and thinking that she was out of sight from everyone who was still down by the Whomping Willow fawning over Cho Chang, she dropped her broom, hearing it hit the cobblestones, and slumped against the wall, gasping for breath, determined not to let the sobs that had been trapped inside escape. Covering her face with her good hand, she leaned against the wall until her gasps turned into shaky deep breaths and she had a good handle on her emotions – at least until the time she reached the privacy of her own room, where she knew she would be all alone.
“You are an incredibly stubborn little wench, weasel.” It was the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy, only its tone was soft and rather gentle, almost affectionate. She looked up, cursing herself that she’d let him see her in such a state, to see him leaning against the wall barely a foot away, facing her. The shock of seeing him there – that he’d been standing there without her even noticing – jolted through her.
“You’ve had your fun for the day. Just go away,” she said, instinctively cradling her injured wrist to her body, protecting her vulnerability. She made a move to rush past him, but he caught her elbow, stopping her in her tracks, and guiding her back against the wall. “Haven’t you done enough?” she cried.
“I didn’t do a single thing. It was entirely your choice to accept the challenge, your choice to follow me through the tree and your idiotic choice to attempt a dive with a broken broomstick,” he said, sounding very matter-of-fact, but surprisingly, there was no trace of mockery in his voice. She made a move to get away from him again, but he leaned one arm against the wall, barring her way. He reached out, pressing a finger against her injured hand, causing her to gasp. “You can hardly hold me accountable because they were unwise decisions.”
“Just get away from me,” she said, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes began to burn. He’d been focused on her wrist, but he looked up at her words, a quick yet searching glance that made her quiver. Whatever he was planning, she was powerless to stop him – she had nothing left to fight with at this point.
“Hold still, stubborn weasel,” he ordered softly, taking her broken wrist gently into his hands. Ginny watched, struck speechless, as he carefully ran his fingers from her elbow to her fingertips, examining the swollen flesh with a serious and professional air. His fingers were long and slender, and despite the throbbing pain of her wrist, they moved so carefully – such a light touch, it was barely making contact at all – across her skin that it almost felt nice. Feeling slightly detached from the strange incident happening before her eyes, Ginny couldn’t help thinking to herself that they were nice looking hands – capable looking. Even if he is a Malfoy. He gently applied a bit of pressure against the inside of her wrist, cringing slightly as she hissed in pain, but then nodded, having spotted the point where the bone had broken. There was a deep look of concentration on his face, and Ginny realized it was the first time she had ever seen him without either a look of rage or that infuriated sneer on his face. She watched his face, and noted the intense look of concentration – he was observing, something he seemed to always be doing. In a moment of hysteria she would later attribute to the pain she was feeling, Ginny noted that he actually was rather handsome when his face wasn’t contorted with some malicious smile. He then pulled out his wand, still cradling her injured wrist with his other arm. He had pointed it at her wrist, and was about to say the spell to mend the bone when Ginny stopped him.
“You can’t do that. It’s illegal!” she breathed. Soon after Voldemort’s rise to power, he had begun to place the most unusual restrictions on the use of magic, especially when it came to healing. Most wizards, when sick or injured, had to resort to using Muggle methods of treating themselves. It was whispered that Voldemort, who was rumored to be obsessed with obtaining eternal life, wanted to regulate the opportunities for others to extend their lives through magical means, even if it meant just mending a broken bone magically.
“Then you’d better hope, for your sake, that we don’t get caught,” he said, sounding highly amused, before saying the spell, ignoring Ginny’s noises of protest. She jumped a little as she felt the intense heat as her bones knitted back together, and the chill that soon followed, causing the swollen flesh around the injury to return to normal. “It’s illegal for people like you. For those of my sort, it’s just…discouraged.”
“Must be nice to be able to afford to take that kind of risk,” she said, flexing her hand, feeling weak with relief as she could now move it without pain. She had almost smiled up at him, but had been able to stop herself before she did. He had released her hand, and had now focused his attention to the laceration on her forehead, leaning in closer and pressing his fingers to it gently to see if it was still bleeding, stroking her skin slowly. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat, and she squirmed to get away – it was hard to breath when he was that close.
“Just leave that,” she whispered, barely able to trust her own voice. He leaned an arm against the wall, cutting off her retreat again, the look in his eyes almost soft. If she didn’t know better, she could almost believe there was a touch of concern in his eyes.
“It will probably scar,” he said.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said stiffly.
“Wouldn’t want any marks to ruin that ugly face of yours,” he said, with a twitch of a smile, his eyes dancing mischievously, making Ginny realize with a start that he was teasing her. She scoffed, thrusting her chin up defiantly.
“You mean plain face. I’m known as the plain Weasley girl, not the ugly one,” she said, hardly able to believe the teasing tone in her own voice.
“My mistake,” he said, reaching out to touch her forehead again. She dodged his touch, for it was far too unnerving to have any contact between the two of them be so…gentle.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I wasn’t lying about that scar.”
“It doesn’t matter. Besides, I don’t want any favors from you,” she said boldly. He laughed; a quiet, short little laugh.
“Then consider it a favor to the rest of society. It would be a shame for such a plain face to be ruined for want of a little mending to avoid scarring. Now just be a good little weasel and stop squirming,” he said, tapping her forehead with his wand before she could protest even further. The slight sting was replaced with a pleasant tingling before the sensations faded away, leaving her skin smooth and un-lacerated.
“Where did you learn how to do that, anyway?” she asked suddenly, as an awkward silence fell over them, as he continued to examine her forehead, to ensure that it had indeed left no marks.
“I’m full of hidden talents. Just because I’m a worthless spoiled brat with an inflated sense of self importance does not mean I don’t have ambitions,” he said, with an arrogant smirk and suggestive look in his eyes as he tossed out the very insult she’d hurled at him, the day she’d punched him. Satisfied that her face was plain once again, he tucked his wand back into his robes, and walked away, completely casually as if, ten minutes before, he hadn’t been about to use an Unforgivable Curse on her.
She watched his retreating form, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over her as she flexed the fingers on the hand that had been injured, remembering the gentle way he’d cradled her arm as he’d healed her. She shrugged off the feeling, figuring that she’d probably just hit her head when she’d fallen from her broom. That was the only way to explain how long it took for the spot on her forehead where he’d touched her skin to stop tingling.
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A/N: Just in case it wasn’t overly clear, ugly and plain are SO Draco-speak for pretty.
Drawn from HYD:
1) Draco seeing Claire and Ginny together, her conversations with Blaise about Cho coming back and how much Ginny admires her
2) The Slytherins targetting Claire, and Ginny interfering, claiming that she should be the one they bully, not Claire.
3) After the Whomping Willow knocks her off her broom, the part where Draco tells her to beg for forgiveness - this is inspired from a similar scene in Episode 2, as is the fact that Blaise interferes, and that Draco says that 'it's over'
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