A/N: Okay before you all run for your real chainsaws…I’m so so so sorry for the wait! There’s been a lot of life stuff going on, not just school, but quite a few family issues as well, so writing hasn’t been at the top of my priorities list lately. I know a lot of people have been emailing me to hurry it up, and a big thank you to all of them! I hope you guys enjoy Chapter 10!
Ginny blinked and peered around the dungeon, her feet still rooted to the spot.
Not that she really expected to see Malfoy lingering behind a rusty suit of armor after their little encounter. He was probably at the other side of the castle by now. She knew she would be, if her legs had been cooperating instead of acting like they’d been completely immobilized. She drew in a shaky breath, her throat catching, and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Her lips were still buzzing with heat, fading slowly into a dull warmth.
She thought she finally understood. Returning her scarf, saving her from being scraped off the Quidditch field in pieces, kissing her…Every one of the uncharacteristic things he’d said and done over the past week or so actually made sense, if she was willing to entertain a certain a notion. It was the only logical explanation, and if Ginny’s friendship with Hermione had taught her anything, it was that logic was the only thing you could truly count on in situations such as these. And as her emotions were currently proceeding to go completely haywire, thus rendering themselves useless to reason, this was surely one of those times.
So, logically, Malfoy fancied her.
The thought sounded so ridiculous inside her head, she almost laughed out loud. Out of all the students at Hogwarts, they must have been the most unlikely combination imaginable. Except maybe for Harry and Pansy Parkinson. That also would have been a stretch. But other than that, crushes and breakups and the like were so common that, unless they were Lavender, the average person barely batted an eye at them.
She was sure though that this particular bit of potential gossip would cause quite a different response. As in dangerously bugged-out eyes, rather than batted ones. She tried to imagine her own reaction if someone had told her back in September that, before the year was out, Malfoy would have developed feelings for her. She probably would’ve just laughed in their face. And then checked them straight into St. Mungo’s mental ward. Maybe send flowers once in a while, out of pity for their poor, addled brain, but that would have been the full extent of her involvement.
Ginny shook her head in an attempt to stem the crazy stream of thoughts running through it. She couldn’t stay here all day, the part of her that was still reasonably sane reminded. Un-gluing her feet from the stone floor, she started back up the stairs, struggling to keep her mind from racing. As she emerged from the dungeons, a wave of warm air washed over her, a welcome change from the dank of the school’s lower chambers.
From the looks of the empty corridor above, lunch had been over for quite a while. Ginny trudged up the marble staircase and headed for Gryffindor Tower, not taking her eyes off her feet stepping rhythmically one after the other until she reached the Fat Lady’s portrait. When she did lift her eyes from the floor, it was only to meet yet another curious gaze.
She could have sworn she’d had her fill of those a couple hundred ago.
“Well!” exclaimed the Fat Lady, looking down at Ginny from behind her frame. “Someone’s looking a bit shook up, aren’t they? What have you been up to?”
Ginny winced at the painting’s cheerful tone. “Unless you’re willing to sit still for the six months it would take to explain, I probably shouldn’t answer that. Dilligrout.”
“Oh, go on”I never get to hear anything that happens around here,” the Fat Lady continued, ignoring the password. “My only news comes from Violet, and lately she’s been far too preoccupied with the painting of those monks on the second floor to have a good gossip. It’s not like I have anywhere to go! I’ve got all the time in the world!”
“I just want to get into the common room,” Ginny said quickly. The last thing she needed right now was a conversation with a chatty, two-dimensional woman. “Please?”
“Alright,” sighed the Fat Lady, shrugging her shoulders in defeat and swinging open. “You won’t find them in there, though.”
Ginny stopped, one foot inside the portrait hole. “What? Find who?” she questioned, looking back over her shoulder.
“Oh, you know.” She waved a painted hand in front of her face. “Those three. They came in looking for you a while ago. Wanted to know if I’d seen you, but I told them you hadn’t been around”they left right after that. Don’t suppose you should go find them, eh?”
“No. I don’t,” Ginny said bluntly, ignoring the Fat Lady’s continued chatter as she climbed into the common room. The painting swung shut behind her, to Ginny’s immediate relief.
Dragging herself towards the squashy red chairs in front of the fire, Ginny groaned and sank into one, her head lolling back onto the velvety fabric. Who would have known being kissed by your supposed mortal enemy would be so exhausting! Perhaps this was what going into shock felt like. Ginny grinned wryly, her eyes closed, as she imagined having to explain her symptoms to Madam Pomfrey.
‘Well, yes, there’s the obvious emotional exhaustion of being hit by something resembling a runaway train, but also the realization of it all can feel quite draining at times. Not to mention that strange, tingling feeling you sometimes get, where you’re not sure if--’
Ginny’s fairly peculiar train of thought broke, as someone called her name from behind her.
“Hey, Ginny!” She twisted around in her chair and saw Neville waving cheerfully as he walked toward her from across the room. “Where’ve you been? Harry and them were looking for you a minute ago.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Ginny, as he plopped down in an empty chair. She bit her lip gently. The thought of another awkward attempt at explaining her behavior to her friends was sparking a growing feeling of nervous anticipation.
“They already left”said something about going down to the library,” Neville continued, oblivious to Ginny’s discomfort. “Hey, we should go and meet them! I’ve got to research for one of Snape’s essays, I never know how many sources he wants us to use. I bet Hermione knows, though, she always””
“Actually, Neville, I’ll just go by myself,” Ginny interrupted, standing up from her chair. The crestfallen look appearing on his face made her instantly regret her words. She felt like she’d just kicked a puppy or something. “It’s just…there’s been some kind of crazy stuff going on… But how about if I see Hermione I’ll tell her to head back upstairs? You know her, she’s probably finished that essay ages ago. I’m sure she’d love to help,” she said quickly, trying to remedy the situation.
Neville nodded, looking a little brighter, and Ginny climbed back out of the portrait hole, waving goodbye to him over her shoulder. Standing out in the hallway, she sighed and glanced around. At least she knew where not to go. She didn’t think she could handle a confrontation with Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately after everything that had gone on between her and Malfoy. And her dormitory was off limits, as there was no way she could get through the common room without Neville wondering why she was back so soon.
Just as she was starting to consider going back outside to the lake, with the hope that it would be a bit more solitary than last time, her stomach growled loudly. She suddenly remembered with a pang of hunger the sandwich she’d abandoned at lunch. Weasley’s weren’t exactly known for having small appetites, and especially as the last thing she’d eaten was a measly piece of toast at breakfast, she was no exception. Double checking that no one was watching her (she was getting awfully paranoid these days) she hurried back down the stairs to the Entrance Hall.
The door leading to the kitchens was open a crack, and she slipped through, closing it quietly behind her. The well-lit corridor was blissfully empty as she followed it to where a large painting of a bowl of fruit hung on the wall. Grateful that Fred and George had seen fit to supply her with as many of Hogwarts secrets as they had so mischievously discovered, she reached up and scratched the pear gently with her finger.
A muffled giggle broke the quiet as the painting swung forward, revealing the entrance to the school kitchens. Trying to stifle another growl of hunger from her stomach, Ginny stepped through the opening in the wall. The warm, wafting air smelled like the beginnings of tonight’s dinner: chickens roasting in huge black ovens, steak pies baking, vats of soup bubbling on the many stoves. Dozens of house elves bustled about in little aprons, stirring this, seasoning that, all looking deeply intent on their work. She tried for a moment to see them through Hermione’s eyes, as if to get some insight as to why she had felt compelled to create S.P.E.W., but none of them really seemed unhappy. Most looked positively cheerful as they hurried about, tending dishes and humming to themselves occasionally as they worked.
“Miss Weasley!”
Ginny looked down as a squeaky voice cried out her name, and was met with the most cheerful face in the room. “Hello, Dobby,” she said, smiling down at the beaming elf as he bowed deeply. His mismatched socks were still a beloved part of his wardrobe, she noted, giving his red and green feet an amused glance.
“Is you wanting anything, Miss?” Dobby asked, straightening up from the ground. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Is”Is you bringing Harry Potter with you?”
Ginny held back a laugh. “No, sorry, Dobby,” she said kindly. “It’s just me today. I can tell Harry to stop by later, though. If you wanted to see him.”
Dobby’s face broke into a delighted grin, and his large ears waggled. “You is most kind, Miss,” he squeaked, his nose scraping the ground as he gave another hurried bow. “Dobby has been wanting to see Harry Potter very much, but Dobby is very busy down in the kitchens. There is much work to be done here, Miss.” He paused, eyeing her carefully. “Miss Weasley is looking hungry. Can Dobby get Miss something to eat?”
“That’d be wonderful,” Ginny said gratefully, and Dobby snapped his long fingers at the other elves working behind him. Instantly a pair of them emerged from the crowd and took her hands to guide her to chair at a small table. They hurried off as Dobby and several others arrived, balancing a tray of sandwiches between them and sliding it onto the table in front of her.
“Will that be enough, Miss?” one of them asked her, setting a glass of pumpkin juice neatly next to the silver tray.
Ginny nodded, smiling at him. “Yes, thank you. This’ll be perfect.” The elf bowed politely, and scurried off back to work, leaving Dobby to take care of their guest. Ginny picked up a sandwich and bit into it, sighing at how good it was to finally eat something. She finished the first one rather fast, then reached for another, eating less quickly now that her initial hunger had been satisfied. As she chewed slowly, her eyes rested on the elf sitting across from her, straightening his different colored socks absentmindedly. The green one seemed to be giving him some trouble, as it was clearly at least two times larger than his foot. Realizing something, she put her sandwich down suddenly.
“Dobby? You worked for the Malfoys before, didn’t you?”
Dobby glanced up from his socks. “Why, yes, Miss,” he answered, looking at her with his wide green eyes. “For many years Dobby served the Malfoy house”until Harry Potter set Dobby free! His greatness has never before shone so radiantly in Dobby’s memory, Miss, though Dobby is knowing that Harry Potter achieves great things in every moment of his life, in every hour of his day””
“Yes, Dobby,” Ginny interrupted, stopping him from continuing further off-subject. She hadn’t exactly brought up this particular topic to hear another Harry-induced rant. “But you lived in the Malfoy’s house? You took care of them? Like, you know, when Mal”Draco”was younger?” It felt strange to have his first name on her tongue. But as there was more than one Malfoy in question, she thought it would have been odd to use his surname.
“Yes, Dobby did, Miss,” the elf answered, puzzled. “But why…?”
“I was just wondering,” Ginny continued, hoping she wasn’t about to commit a serious invasion of privacy. “What”What you can tell me about them. Him. I mean…” She hesitated. “What was he like?”
“Master Draco?” Dobby said, not noticing the title he automatically gave his former owner. Ginny didn’t bother to correct him. “Dobby helped raise Master Draco from a baby. He and Dobby got along well, Miss. I was always sneaking him sweets in the kitchen” his parents was not wanting him to have them.” Dobby looked at her sheepishly. “You is not telling anyone, Miss?”
“You’re secret’s safe with me,” Ginny promised, smiling.
Looking more confident, Dobby straightened up in his chair, his large ears perked. “Master Draco was asking Dobby to make him cookies all the time, they were his favorites,” he continued brightly. “Once, Dobby was busy in a different wing of the manor, and Master Draco tried to make them all by hisself! Such a mess Dobby had never seen, Miss…”
Ginny laughed out loud, trying to picture Malfoy as a little blond boy covered in flour and standing in the middle of his ruined attempts at cookie-baking. She had never wondered about his childhood before, had never even connected Dobby with the family he used to serve. She’d always just assumed Malfoy had been the type to zap ants with his father’s wand and throw rocks at passing owls and whatnot. Aprons and cookie-dough definitely weren’t what she’d imagined. Too bad nobody had ever bought him an Easy-Bake. Would have saved Dobby a load of trouble.
Glancing at a clock hanging on the kitchen wall, Ginny was reminded that her free period was almost over.
“Well, I’d better go. Class starts in five minutes,” she said, regretful that she couldn’t stay and listen to more of Malfoy’s childhood antics. “Thanks for the sandwiches, Dobby. And the stories.” She grinned at the elf and stood as he got up to lead her back to the door.
“A pleasure, Miss Weasley,” he said, turning around in front of the portrait hole. His huge green eyes peered up at her expectantly. “You will remember? Harry Potter?”
“Promise,” Ginny said, trying again to keep a straight face at his obsession with her friend. “I’ll tell him to come visit you as soon as I see him.”
Dobby beamed up at her, his eyes shining happily.
The next day was one of the sunniest Hogwarts had seen in months of rain and chill air. The light slanted in through the windows in all directions, sparing Filch his usual task of lighting the torches on the walls of the corridors. Even he seemed brightened by the weather, his trademark scowl of loathing lessening to one of only mild dislike.
All things considered, it was quite pleasant walking down the corridor to class that afternoon, in Ginny’s opinion. She had been having what could easily be called a relaxing day, with an unusually low level of drama and absolutely no sign of Malfoy whatsoever. She’d woken up on a beautiful morning, had breakfast with her friends, and gone to her boring classes (sadly, not improved by the weather), without a single bit of trouble.
He must be avoiding her.
Ginny sighed and watched as a sparrow fluttered through the courtyard outside the window. It was much too nice of a day to let him drag her down. She couldn’t help thinking though that maybe he had a good reason to avoid her, after everything. Maybe he was ashamed of his untimely exit in the dungeons, or perhaps he was just being too much of a coward to show his face. Whatever it was, she was starting to let it get to her in a big way.
“Stupid Malfoy,” she muttered to herself, turning away from the window and continuing down the hall. If he wanted to avoid her, well, two could play at that game. She could be just as stubborn as anyone, and if he thought he’d just wait around for her to do something about their little…situation, she was going to prove him wrong once and for”
“Ooph!”
In her attempt to turn the corner into the Transfiguration corridor, Ginny collided with something very solid. Catching her balance to keep from sprawling over backwards, she glanced up into a pair of grey eyes.
‘Speak of the devil…and he appears,’ she thought cynically, trying hard not to think about the last time she’d been fixed with those eyes. She really needed her legs in their proper, non-liquefied condition if she had any hope of getting out of this one.
Lucky for her, Malfoy didn’t seem in the mood for melting body parts. He smirked down at her, looking completely unfazed by their close proximity. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Weaslette,” he drawled, his voice oozing sarcasm. “People might start to talk.”
Ginny was taken aback for a moment at his sudden lack of emotion. He seemed so…collected. Like the whole dungeon episode had never even happened. But looking up at him, suddenly with nothing to say, she thought she might have caught a hint of panic behind his perfectly crafted smirk. His mouth opened again, no doubt to comment on her uncharacteristic silence, but snapped shut as the sound of voices met their ears.
“I know, can you believe that?” someone was saying. “It still had spines! I swear, if that porcupine doesn’t turn into a decent pillow soon, McGonagall’s going to fail me.”
Another voice laughed from down the corridor, sounding nearer. Feet frozen to the ground, Ginny could hear their footsteps echoing off the stone floor as they approached. She looked around frantically for an escape from what would surely be the start of some very unwanted rumors involving her and Malfoy, and spotted a familiar tapestry hanging behind a suit of armor. Snapping out of her immobile state, she grabbed Malfoy by the sleeve of his robe.
“Quick! In here!” she whispered, dragging him towards the tapestry.
“Oi! What do you think you’re””
Ginny ignored his protests and ripped the edge of the tapestry back from the wall. Sure enough, a dark, slightly cramped closet appeared from behind it. Thank Merlin she was related to a pair of troublemaking idiots who knew the school better than their own bedrooms.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Malfoy hissed again, as she pulled him into the closet after her.
“Shut up! They’ll hear us, you moron!” Ginny whispered, flapping her hand at him to be quiet and pressing her ear to the tapestry. She could still hear the students out in the corridor if she ignored Malfoy’s indignant huffing behind her.
“”should have seen your face, when it started shooting quills left and right…priceless, I tell you….”
The voices finally faded, and Ginny assumed they’d turned the corner out of earshot. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Taking her head away from the tapestry and turning around, she could just make out the outline of Malfoy sulking against the wall.
“Really don’t see why you had to drag us into a bloody broom cupboard,” he grumbled, staring down at his crossed arms and not meeting her eyes.
“Well at least it’s not a potted plant,” she shot back. She tried to keep her voice low in case anyone else decided to pass by their little hideout, but his ungrateful attitude was really starting to annoy her. But, then again, what else was new.
Malfoy glanced up, his eyes shooting daggers at her through the semi-darkness. “Like I needed reminding of that happy memory,” he said, and Ginny could almost see the sarcasm dripping from his words. “Really, I’d almost managed to repress it completely, until you had to go and dig it up again. Thanks a lot, Weaslette.”
“The only thing being repressed is my gag reflex, Malfoy, from remembering your slimy lips on mine!” Ginny retorted, all attempts at keeping her voice down abandoned. She was breathing hard now, hardly noticing that she had just been the first to mention their last encounter.
“Oh, real witty,” Malfoy said, his eyes getting steely as he took a step away from the wall. “What are you going to do next? Pull my hair? Careful now”wouldn’t want to get any of my Slytherin germs on your precious Gryffindor self.”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?” Ginny replied mockingly. “Thanks to you we’re far past the stage where germs are kept separate.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to risk getting contaminated with whatever diseases you’ve picked up in your filthy common room! There’s no telling what kinds of nasty critters you’ve got crawling around in there. It’s a wonder delicate little Potter hasn’t dropped dead already from dragon pox or whatnot.”
“You live in the bloody dungeons!” Ginny yelled, feeling red-hot anger flood her body at his words. This was how she was supposed to feel around him. This made more sense. “If anyone’s dormitory is diseased it’s yours, what with all the slime and Snape’s leftover potions fermenting, or”or””
“Better than having to see Potter’s ugly face every night””
“What is it with you and insulting Harry every two minutes?” Ginny interrupted angrily. “Can’t you ever think of anything to say that doesn’t involve him and his face? I mean are you really that obsessed with him?”
Draco’s stared at her, flabbergasted. “Me? Obsessed? What about you?! All those years you followed him around like a little puppy dog, begging for a scrap of attention, and now you want everyone to just conveniently forget about it? You’re a piece of work, Weaslette.”
“I”I’m not”I did not follow him around like a puppy dog!” Ginny spluttered. “And that’s none of your business anyway! You’ve just been so jealous all these years that people actually like Harry””
“Worship him, you mean? No one really likes him. Who could, with all that ‘I’m a hero of the people so bow down while I save the world’ nonsense? You know I’m right, Weaslette, there’s no point denying it.”
Ginny scoffed. “You’re the one in denial, over what a pathetic loser you’ve been since the day you were born.”
“At least I wasn’t born in my own backyard!”
“Yeah, because the sewer must have been so much more comfortable!”
“A lot more so than the one you live in!”
“Conceited ferret!”
“Potter-obsessed freak!”
She wasn’t sure how it had happened”given the circumstances”but the next thing she knew their lips were fused together, arms struggling to wrap around each other in the cramped space of the closet. It was that exact state of forced proximity that was causing this, obviously. She wouldn’t have allowed it if it weren’t for how compromising a position they were already in, though that didn’t explain the fuzziness in the area of who grabbed who first. She had to admit there was some uncertainty there.
But, either way, it was definitely the closet’s fault.
Finally managing to wrap her arms around his neck, Ginny leaned deeper into the kiss. They stumbled and almost fell as Malfoy backed up against the wall, never breaking the intense contact of their lips. Ginny’s mind raced with a million feeble protests and unconvincing reasons as to why this was wrong, wrong, wrong…but the fire that had been building inside of her since the moment she dragged him behind the tapestry swallowed them all into its blazing heat, leaving behind only an irresistible need to tighten her arms and pull him closer.
Draco was in heaven. She was kissing him. He was kissing her. His brain couldn’t seem to function on any level higher than that, and he was glad”that way he wasn’t distracted by any useless anticipation of what would be said when they finally pulled apart. Her long red hair brushed against his face, and he brought a hand around to the small of her back, pulling her closer against his chest. He buried his other hand in her hair, reveling in the long strands of softness running between his fingers and the light pressure of her fingernails scraping against his shoulder blades. He never wanted it to stop. It didn’t matter that she was a Gryffindor, and Harry Potter’s loyal friend, and someone he had meant to despise for the rest of his natural life.
He was falling. Hard.
Far too soon in his opinion, they broke apart, lungs burning for air.
Ginny could feel her hands shaking against his back, but didn’t bother to remove them as she glanced up into his face. His hair was disheveled where her hands had run through it, his cheeks glowing a faint pink under his pale skin. If there had been a mirror around, she was sure she would have looked just as nervous and surprised at her own actions as he did. Neither of them moved, except for the faint panting coming from between their burning lips, until Ginny finally recovered enough to speak.
“So,” she swallowed, and attempted a weak smile, “no disappearing act this time?”
Draco was still staring at her, until her voice brought him out of his muddled thoughts. “Huh? Oh. Right,” he said, awareness fighting its way back to the front of his mind. He felt his cheeks grow warm as he remembered his rather cowardly exit. “Sorry about that,” he said finally, ducking his eyes and grinning in embarrassment.
“That’s okay,” Ginny said, her smile growing stronger. “You’ll just have to bake me some cookies to get me to forgive you.” Draco looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Oh, come on, I’m sure Dobby would let you use the kitchens. He’d love to see how much you’ve improved.” She could barely get out the last words as laughter threatened to escape her; the look of realization”not to mention horror”growing on his face was just too much for her to handle.
“I’m going to kill that elf…” Draco growled.
Laughing, Ginny turned away from him and lifted the tapestry, pulling him out of the closet by his sleeve before he could get too far on his homicide plans. The corridor outside was empty. They were definitely late for their next classes, but she couldn’t help feel at least a little grateful that no one was around to see them climb out from behind the décor together.
They stopped outside the closet, and once Draco’s grumbling had subsided, stood staring at each other for a moment before speaking.
Ginny cleared her throat and swallowed the rest of her laughter. “Well, we’d better go. Classes probably started a while ago,” she said, letting go of the sleeve of his robes.
“Yeah…”
Ginny could sense that they were in danger of descending into awkward silence. “So…” she started, really not looking forward to more uncomfortable breaks in conversation. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Right. See you.”
“Uhuh. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Both of them laughed nervously as they realized they’d completely missed their cues to leave.
Ginny fidgeted with the end of her sleeve and took a deep breath. “Bye,” she said again, finally turning around and starting off towards the next corridor. It wasn’t too difficult not to look back as she walked, but she still had to bite her lip pretty darn hard to keep from smiling.