A/N: Whew! Chapter 4 is finally finished! I was forced to go on a four day (very boring) vacation, which meant no writing for a while. Whatever will I do when school starts? Anyway, to my reviewers: As always, you are worth your weight in gold! Your opinions mean so much to me, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Please review!
The rich, dusty smell that was unique to new books never failed to put a smile on her face. Hermione walked up and down the aisles of the bookstore, stopping often to examine the dozens of shelves that were piled high with the objects she revered. Pulling A Complete Guide to Advanced Arithmancy off of its perch, she added it to the growing pile of books in her arms.
Staggering slightly under the weight of her precious tomes, she made her way over to one of the squashy armchairs that dotted the inside of the shop. Her arms ached something awful, but she managed to deposit her burden gently onto the floor. Not wanting to leave her comfortable chair, Hermione checked her watch and smiled gratefully when she realized that her friends would not be expecting her for another half hour.
She had to admit that she was somewhat curious as to what went on between them after she had left for the bookstore. The window of the shop had given her a clear view of Harry and Ginny’s conversation, and although she hadn’t heard a word of it, she had a pretty good idea of what they had been saying.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Harry had feelings for the younger girl. Hermione supposed that he had wanted her to spend more time with him, perhaps to get an opportunity to talk to her alone.
‘As if she would fall for that,’ she chuckled to herself. She had seen Ginny rush off down the street, which was a sure sign that she had only just escaped from Harry’s affections.
Ginny had told her, of course, that she had gotten over her infatuation with Harry long ago, but Hermione couldn’t help but think that there was more than one reason for her reluctance towards him. She hadn’t missed the look on Ginny’s face when she asked her who she fancied that night in the common room. On top of that, the youngest Weasley had been acting awfully strange for the past few days, what with her recent tendency to space out in the middle of conversations and all. There was something that she wasn’t telling anyone, and Hermione strongly suspected that it involved a guy.
Reaching into her pile of books and grabbing one that looked interesting, she cleared her mind of such thoughts. Whatever was going on with Ginny, she knew that she would find out about it eventually. After all, nothing can stay a secret forever. She opened her book and inhaled the familiar scent, before turning to the first chapter and immersing herself in its pages.
Ginny glanced up from her seat on the bench, and was startled to see that there was a figure leaning up against the fence that ran around the Shrieking Shack. Looking closer, she realized that it was none other than the Slytherin who had been occupying her thoughts all day.
His back was facing her, and she watched as the wind ruffled his hair and he tightened his arms around his cloak, the folds of fabric flapping wildly. Scooting over on the bench, Ginny was able to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. Although his eyes were facing the Shrieking Shack, it seemed that he was looking right through it at something that was visible only to him.
Deciding that he had probably come up the hill to be alone, Ginny eased herself carefully off the bench and turned to leave. She hadn’t taken more than two steps before she heard a resounding snap beneath her feet, as her shoe broke a stick cleanly in half. Wincing, she peeked at Malfoy and was met with a pair of silvery eyes.
Ginny gulped. “I-I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know anyone else was up here. I’ll just go.”
Draco turned back to the decrepit building in front of him. “You have as much right to be here as I do. I’m not making you leave.”
Assuming that this was as close as he would come to asking her to stay, Ginny walked over to the fence and rested her elbows on it.
“So what did the Dream Team think of it?” Draco asked, still not looking at her.
“Think of what?” she said, fighting to keep her face looking nonchalant. She was sure that she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she would rather not let him know that his predicament was all she could think about lately.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her, not surprised that she was avoiding the topic. “You know what,” he said sternly.
Ginny dropped her gaze to her hands. She really did have to work on her acting skills, if this was the sort of situation she would be continuously forced into. Talking to Malfoy about “the Dream Team,” as he had so scornfully dubbed them, was uncomfortable enough, without having to explain why she had essentially lied to them by keeping his secret.
“They didn’t think anything,” she answered, surveying the sky above their heads. The wind had blown heavy grey clouds out of the countryside, and they hung over Hogsmeade village ominously. “I didn’t mention it to them. And don’t ask me why, because I honestly don’t know.” Ginny gave him a defiant stare, daring him to disobey her.
Draco didn’t object to her answer, but merely nodded his head in acknowledgment. “The less people who know, the better. I’d rather not have something like this spread around the entire school, if you know what I mean,” he said, throwing her a glance.
Ginny grinned, relieved that he wasn’t going to question her any further. “So I take it you haven’t told anyone either?” she asked.
“Who do I have to tell? Crabbe and Goyle either wouldn’t understand a word of it, or they’d just report me to their fathers. Pansy’s notorious gossiping skills would have enlightened the majority of the student population within an hour, and Blaise would probably shun me for life for disgracing Slytherin house by associating with a Gryffindor.”
Ginny felt something inside of her twinge painfully at his final words. ‘He still thinks of me as a disgrace, after all this?’ she thought, more miserably than she would have liked. She knew the two of them were far from being friends, but she had hoped that they were past the stage where pride between houses decided who could socialize with whom.
Draco looked sideways at Ginny’s face and noticed the disappointed look that had settled on her features. He stared at her confusedly, wondering at her ability to change moods at the speed of light.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ he wracked his mind for any clue as to why Ginny had suddenly turned sullen and distant. ‘…and then I said that Blaise would shun me for life for…Oh. Oops.’
Silently berating himself for being so tactless, Draco cleared his throat and tried to rectify his mistake. “Not that Gryffindor’s are anything to be ashamed of,” he said, studying Ginny’s face for any sign of forgiveness. “I mean, who cares what Blaise thinks, right?”
Ginny giggled, the unhappiness gone from her face. “I didn’t know you were capable of being nice,” she teased.
Draco blanched, his eyes wide. “I’m not!” he spluttered, sounding deeply offended.
Ginny fought to keep herself from laughing at the expression on the blond Slytherin’s face. His indignant look faded, and she noticed that his usually pale cheeks had been tinged pink by the wind. Combined with the faint pout that still lingered on his mouth from her unintentional insult, he actually looked quite…sweet.
She felt something cold land on the tip of her nose, interrupting her thoughts (which was mostly likely quite fortunate, as her mind had begun to wander down a dangerous trail). Reaching up to touch the offending projectile, she came away with wet fingers, and had barely enough time to comprehend what it meant before the sky opened up and torrents of rain came cascading down from the clouds.
“Oh no!” Ginny moaned, pulling the hood of her sweater out from beneath her cloak in a vain attempt to keep the cold drops of water at bay.
Draco was less lucky, as he had neglected to wear anything resembling a hood. “Well don’t just stand there!” he said. “We have to get into one of the shops before we drown!” His silvery locks were already plastered to his face from the rain, and he didn’t want to risk causing any permanent damage to them. He liked his hair. It was very good-looking hair.
Ginny rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be such a drama queen,” she replied, before taking off down the hill without waiting for him to object to her statement.
Draco opened his mouth to do just that, but changed his mind when he saw that the hooded girl was already half way down the hill. Grumbling irritably to himself, he hurried after her.
Ginny yanked open the door to the first shop she came across and jumped inside, Draco not far behind. She leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath, while drops of water rolled off of her clothes and onto the floor. A plump, grey-haired witch in a frilly pink and white apron walked past and gave the newcomers a curious look, leading Ginny to believe that they had arrived in a restaurant of some sort.
Looking around, she began to recognize their surroundings. ‘Oh no,’ she thought, her eyes widening. ‘It can’t be…’
Draco stood with his hands on his knees, also dripping. “You know…” he gasped, having not yet recovered from their mad dash for shelter. “It would really be…drama…king. Not queen.” Not hearing a reply, he lifted his head to look at Ginny.
She looked as if someone had just hit her with a sack of bricks, and her eyes were fixed on something over his left shoulder. Spinning around to see what had affected her so strangely, Draco was met with the type of sign that one usually comes across near the entrance to a restaurant. Upon reading the curly script with which it was written, he felt panic threaten to overwhelm him.
Welcome to Madam Puddifoot’s,
where love is always in the air!
From candlelit dinners to delightful
picnic-style lunches, our staff is
dedicated to serving lovebirds
everywhere! Please wait to be seated.
The color drained from his face for the second time that day, and Draco rounded on Ginny, mortified that she had brought them in here. He opened his mouth to voice his infuriated thoughts, but was interrupted by the sharp click of someone’s shoes.
Ginny snapped out of her stupor and whipped her head around in the direction of the footsteps. She couldn’t be caught in a place like this with Draco Malfoy. The rumors and scandals that were sure to arise would scar her for the rest of her days at Hogwarts. Perhaps even the rest of her life. Unable to come up with a better solution, she grabbed Draco’s arm and dived behind a nearby potted plant, dragging him along behind her.
“Hey, what-” Draco’s head collided solidly with the wall, cutting off his speech. Holding a hand to the injured area, he cursed under his breath before continuing. “You’re one crazy bird you know that? First you bring us here, endangering both our reputations, and then you hold me hostage behind a plant! What’s next, sky-diving off of the Astronomy Tower?!”
Ginny ignored him and peeked between the leaves of their hideout. “Shhh!” she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. “Someone’s coming right towards us.”
Sure enough, the pink and white clad witch who Ginny had spotted earlier was rounding the corner in front of them. Humming to herself and carrying a stack of plates and silverware, she glanced around the room.
Her eyes fell on the twin puddles on the floor and narrowed quizzically. “Well I say,” she murmured. “I coulda sworn I saw someone come in here. Why they’d wanna go back out in that rain is beyond-” She paused, noticing two pairs of feet sticking out from beneath her hibiscus plant. A knowing smile grew on her lips, and she chuckled to herself. ‘Young love knows no boundaries,’ she thought, and walked back to the kitchens, whistling as innocently as possible.
Ginny let out the breath she had been holding. “She’s gone,” she said, turning to face Draco. He had crawled up next to her to see through the foliage, and his face was only inches from hers as he checked the room to make sure the coast was clear. Blushing at their close proximity, Ginny backed away and sat with her shoulders leaning against the wall behind her.
“Well,” Draco began, getting up from behind the plant. “Let’s go then.”
Ginny blinked at him. “Go? As in outside? What happened to ‘help me Ginny, help me, I’m drowning’?” Draco scowled menacingly and crossed his arms.
“You know very well that I said nothing of the sort. Now come on before someone else shows up and we get stuck behind that blasted tree again. And I don’t care if it’s raining. We are getting out of here now.”
Draco barely had time turn towards the door before a bright flash of light illuminated the room, followed by a deafening blast of thunder. He jumped backwards, landing on a shrieking Ginny and crashing to the ground, while managing to hit his head once more on the wall.
Although Draco was by no means overweight, having a seventeen-year-old guy land on her was no laughing matter. “Get off of me you oaf!” Ginny growled. “You’re crushing my legs. Get off, get off, get off!”
Draco stood up, clutching the back of his head and grimacing in pain. “All right, all right, keep your hair on!” he growled. He could feel a lump rising under his fingers, and begrudged his decision to follow that crazy girl in the first place. Her Weasley luck must have rubbed off on him. The same luck that decided on her father’s paycheck, that is.
Ginny propped herself up on her elbows and stretched her aching legs, assessing the damage. “Now what do you suggest?” she hissed, the throbbing in her knees preventing her from forgiving him. Brushing the dust off her skirt, she got to her feet as another rumble of thunder sounded outside.
“Why, ‘ello my dears!”
Draco and Ginny spun around in the direction of the voice. The apron wearing witch was walking towards them, a wide smile on her face. “Are you ready to be seated?” she asked, glancing pointedly at the hibiscus and waggling her eyebrows at the two of them.
Draco, who didn’t seem to notice this insinuation, sneered at her. “No, actually,” he snapped. “We were just leaving.”
He headed towards the door, but Ginny stood rooted to the spot. Her face had turned a very putrid shade of green. ‘Did she think…did she actually think we were…’ her mind reeled at the thought. ‘Oh god! If this gets out…’
Seizing her opportunity while Ginny was still in shock, the waitress grabbed her and Draco’s arms and steered them forcefully away from the door. “We can’ have ya going out in tha’, now can we? I’ve got th’ perfect spot for the two of ya, if you’ll just follow me.”
Having little choice in the matter, as their captor had quite a strong grip for her age, Ginny and Draco grimaced as they were dragged reluctantly into a cornucopia of pink tablecloths, flickering candlelight, and pairs of students holding hands over their plates.
“Here we are then,” the waitress said, plopping them down in a booth in the corner of the room. Ginny glanced around nervously and felt a wave of relief wash over her when she realized that no one would be noticing her strange choice of company. The other couples were far too intent on permanently fusing their lips together to care about trivial matters, such as two rivals spending their Hogsmeade weekend together in the most romantic building in the village.
The waitress flipped open her notebook and pulled a pen from the wispy bun at the back of her head. “Now what can I get ya, my dears? Our special for th’ day is Lover’s Luncheon, which comes with-”
“I think we’ll just get some tea for now,” Ginny said hastily, glancing at Draco. He looked like he wanted to strangle someone, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides.
The waitress scribbled in her notebook and assured them that their order would arrive shortly, before hastening off to the kitchens, leaving the two humiliated students alone once again.
Draco uncurled his hands, but the murderous look continued to mar his face. “You just had to make all that noise, didn’t you?” he said, glaring angrily across the table. “We could have escaped easily if it weren’t for you and your ridiculous hysterics.”
Ginny gaped at him. “My hysterics? I seem to recall that you were the one who had a total panic attack, all because of a bit of thunder.”
“Well at least I didn’t bring us into this revolting place,” he retorted. His lips curled into a bitter sneer, and his voice took on a cynical tone. “I suppose you thought it’d be funny. Ruining my reputation by letting people see me in public with a Weasley, here of all places.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” she scoffed. He sounded like he thought she had planned this from the beginning, as some sort of twisted revenge for the years of insults he had dedicated to her. “I never asked you to follow me here. You could still be sitting on top of that hill in the rain, for all I care.”
“I wouldn’t have followed you if you hadn’t gone up there in the first place!” His voice had increased in volume by a considerable amount, and several couples had abandoned their activities to gaze curiously at the two of them. “None of this would have happened if you had just minded your own business.”
Not noticing the attention that was now directed at them from all corners of the room, Ginny raised her voice as well. A bubble of anger and frustration expanded inside of her, and she was determined to have the last word. “I was trying to leave. You’re the one who asked me to stay, remember?”
Draco started to protest, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their waitress, who had appeared so suddenly that he was sure she must have Apparated.
“Your tea, dears,” she said kindly, setting a cup of steaming, amber liquid in front of each of them. “Sorry to cut short your little lover’s spat.” She winked and chuckled at the horrified expressions on their faces, before sauntering off to the next table.
Draco felt homicidal thoughts flood his brain once more, and he fought to keep himself from acting on them. Every occupant of the restaurant had stared at them blatantly upon hearing the waitress’s words, and he glared menacingly around the room until each one of them had dropped their eyes back to their plates. Stirring his tea moodily, he looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. Red spots had flared up on her cheeks, and she was looking forlornly at her drink, as if she’d like nothing more than to drown herself in it.
His assumption wasn’t far off, as Ginny was currently wishing she knew how to perform the killing curse on herself. A quick, hopefully painless death would be far more pleasant than remaining in this squashy booth, shrouded in candlelight and surrounded by staring eyes. Feeling uncomfortably warm, she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and placed it on the seat next to her.
She peeked cautiously around the room and was glad to see that she and Draco were no longer the center of attention. The other couples had resumed their previous activities and seemed to have forgotten all about the strange pair sitting in the corner.
‘Thank Merlin,’ she thought to herself, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. ‘Another minute of being stared at like that and I would’ve gone mad.’
Her discomfort having faded to a fraction of its original size, Ginny turned back to her tea and grabbed the sugar bowl, heaping generous spoonfuls into her cup.
Draco had watched her throughout this realization, sipping his tea absently and amusing himself with her rapidly changing facial expressions. He only spoke when she had stirred three teaspoons of sugar into her cup, and begun reaching out for another.
“Merlin, Weaslette!” he exclaimed, snatching the sugar bowl from her hands. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack with all that. Really, sometimes I think that brother of yours is rubbing off on you.”
Ginny scowled at him and attempted to retrieve the sugar bowl. “It’s just sugar, Draco.” He held it higher over his head as she leaned further across the table towards it. “And besides, since when do you care if I get a heart attack or not?”
“I don’t,” he replied, twisting in his seat to keep the sugar out of her reach. “I’d just rather not get stuck here with your dead body. People might ask questions.”
Letting out a strangled cry of aggravation, Ginny gave up on using force to rescue her sugar bowl and slumped back into her seat. “Draco what-ever-your-middle-name-is Malfoy, I demand that you give me back my sugar this instant,” she said strictly. She supposed he was right about Ron rubbing off on her. Or perhaps an addiction to sugar just ran in her family. Either way, she was not about to let him get away with pilfering it.
“Now Weaslette,” he said, his lips curving into a sly smile. He lowered the sugar bowl to his tea cup and poured a thin stream of the sweet, white powder into it. “Let’s not be selfish.” He continued emptying the sugar into his tea, letting it pile up at the bottom of the cup. “You really should…” The bowl tipped further still. “…learn to share.” The last granules of sugar tumbled into the tea cup, and Draco grinned mischievously, silently congratulating himself on his brilliance. “Oh, and it’s Lucius, by the way. My middle name.”
“You…” Ginny sputtered, too appalled at his audacity to form a complete sentence. “You…evil, scheming...” His grin turned into a laugh, as her face flushed with anger.
Thoroughly infuriated, she swung her leg under the table and felt it connect sharply with his shin. Her fit of violence only succeeded in making him laugh harder, and after she kicked him several more times, he was gasping for breath and nearly drowning in hilarity.
Pausing in her attempts to cause him as much pain as possible, Ginny realized that she had never seen Draco laugh before. A real laugh, that is. Not a day went by when he didn’t snicker at the expense of another, or show off his trademark smirk to the rest of the world, but she doubted that anyone else could honestly say that they had seen a true laugh escape his lips. It sounded quite nice, really. All deep and bell-like… Like music and the tolling of church bells throughout the windy village.
Ginny’s hand twitched as she had a sudden involuntary urge to smack herself on the forehead. This was not normal. She shouldn’t have to be constantly reminding herself that he was a self-centered git. It should just come naturally, always ready to remind her why she and the other Gryffindors hated him so much. A simple laugh couldn’t erase years of animosity, even if it was nice to listen to. Maybe. Somewhat.
She put these troubling thoughts out of her mind and shot a glance at Draco, who was still unable to contain his mirth. Spotting the perfect way to even the score after his antics with the sugar bowl, she grinned and lunged for his teacup.
Draco snapped out of his merriment almost immediately. “Hey!” he shouted, staring at the empty space where his excessively-sugared tea had been sitting.
“Ha!” Ginny exclaimed, laughing at his surprised expression and lifting the cup to her lips. “I guess I get the sugar after all.” She sipped the syrupy tea and had to suppress the urge to gag. Even she couldn’t handle something this sweet, but she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of her revenge.
It crossed her mind that she was drinking something that had touched Draco’s lips, a thought that resulted in a sensation similar to that of having eaten dozens of Peppermint Toads. Not that she would know what that felt like, of course. It was more Ron’s area of expertise. She supposed this reaction was merely the outcome of years of hostility, but a small part of her mind thought otherwise.
‘You recognize this feeling,’ it whispered. ‘It’s the same one you had around Harry for all those years.’
Ginny shook her head to try and silence the voice. ‘No,’ she thought firmly. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly be feeling…attracted to him. We’ve been through this before, and it could never happen, remember?’
‘That’s because you thought he was a Death Eater,’ the traitorous part of her brain replied. ‘He’s turned spy for our side, now.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at this notion, not wanting to believe that the Slytherin sitting in front of her could elicit these kinds of feelings from her. Lost in her troublesome thoughts, she didn’t even notice that the object of her confusion was speaking.
“…all the tea, and I’m left with nothing.” Ginny stared blankly at a spot on the wall behind him, completely oblivious to his ranting. “I mean really, Weaslette, you could have just asked nicely, but no. You just had to resort to force. Weaslette? Are you even listening to me?”
Ginny blinked in disorientation and jerked her chin off of her palm, where it had been resting for the past few minutes. “What? No. I mean yes. Uh huh,” she stuttered, forcing herself back into reality.
Draco sighed and leaned back into his seat, the booth’s magenta cushions compressing behind his back. Being ignored was something he never could stand, and he resented the fact that she had missed his little speech. What was the point in telling someone off if they didn’t even hear you doing it?
“Very convincing and all,” he drawled, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. “But I’m sure whatever you were thinking about was far more interesting than anything I have to say.” She glanced down at her stolen teacup, and he raised his eyebrows as a pink flush crawled slowly up from her collar.
His assumption had hit closer to home than she felt comfortable with, especially as he was the person that her thoughts had been revolving around. She swallowed hard to remove the nervous lump in her throat and forced herself to return his stare.
“What I think about is none of your business, Malfoy,” she retorted, trying to appear collected and in control, but ending up sounding rather shrill. “And anything that goes through my mind will always be more interesting than whatever comes out of your abnormally large m-”
Despite her Gryffindor courage and fierce desire to not back down in front of him, Ginny had found herself unable to continue looking into his seemingly bottomless grey eyes and had let her gaze drift over his shoulder, at something that jarred her voice to a halt. An old-fashioned grandfather’s clock stood behind their booth, its pendulum swinging steadily and its arms signaling that it was a full fifteen minutes past the time that she had promised to meet her friends back at Honeydukes.
She stared at the clock in distress, not able to believe that she had neglected to remember her promise. Snapping out of her shocked daze, she grabbed her bag and began rummaging for some coins to pay for her tea.
Draco glanced behind him and, seeing nothing of great interest, turned around to inquire about her strange behavior, only to find that she had tossed a few Sickles on the table and was already halfway to the door, leaving him to sit alone among the flickering candles and kissing couples.
Ginny’s shoes sloshed through the muddy puddles that dotted the streets of Hogsmeade, and the heavy, humid air filled her nose with the musky fragrance of freshly rained on earth. The rolling thunder of earlier that day had quieted, and the only falling water was the large drops that had settled on the leaves of trees and would occasionally slide off onto the cobblestones.
Dodging several of these wet missiles, Ginny walked hurriedly through the crowded street towards Honeydukes. It would be a miracle if the others were still waiting for her. They had probably gone back to the castle as soon as the rain had cleared up. Regrettably, she had no idea when this had happened, as she had been far too intent on making it out of Madam Puddifoot’s with her reputation intact to pay attention to the weather.
She squeezed herself through a knot of witches babbling excitedly about something they had bought, and broke into a jog. It might be for the best if Harry, Ron and Hermione had left without her, as it would serve to help her avoid awkward questions, but that didn’t put a damper on her desperation to make it back to Honeydukes on time. Or at least as on time as it was possible to be when one was already over twenty minutes late.
Her foot slipped in a puddle of dirty water, and she just barely managed to keep herself from sprawling down onto the sidewalk. Grabbing a lamppost for balance, she groaned as she looked down at her mud-splattered robes.
She was definitely going to have to do some explaining if she ever made it back to Honeydukes in one piece.
Shaking herself off as best she could, Ginny sighed raggedly and sunk down onto one of the metal benches lining the streets. There really was no point in going back to Honeydukes. It would only result in more uncomfortable conversations and embarrassing situations, both of which she had endured enough of for one day.
“Why does everything have to happen to me?” she asked herself quietly. The stress of the past few days was finally catching up to her, and she ran her hands over her forehead as if trying to ward off a massive headache. Finding Malfoy crying in a bathroom, witnessing his decision to switch sides, escaping Harry’s constant advances…it was all too much for her.
“Well it might have something to do with the fact that you’re alive. You could be dead, and then nothing would happen.”
Ginny jolted and lifted her head out of her hands, finding herself face to face with a dreamy-looking blonde girl. “Oh. Hello Luna,” she said. Her voice sounded tired and worn even to her own ears, and she scooted over on the bench to allow the odd girl room to sit.
“Hello,” Luna replied, settling herself next to her classmate. “Your friends were looking for you, you know. I think Ron might have been attacked by a Queasy-Breathed Skurl. He seemed rather sick.”
Ginny felt her lips curve upwards into a smile. “I’m sure he just ate too much candy, that’s all,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. Despite her unusual beliefs, Luna could always make Ginny feel more cheerful with her peculiar ways. Fighting in the Department of Mysteries had brought them closer together, so that she no longer thought of the blonde Ravenclaw as someone to be avoided.
Luna nodded at Ginny’s rebuttal, her faraway eyes growing thoughtful. “Yes, that could be true. I suppose there could have been Jarklins hiding in the fudge… They often infect sugary foods, and anyone who accidentally ingests them suffers from” Oh! Here they are now.”
Sure enough, the three sixth years had just appeared on the street corner and were walking hastily towards the bench where Ginny was sitting. When they arrived in front of her, she could see what Luna had meant about Ron and the Queasy-Breathed Skurl. His face had turned an odd shade of grey, and he was clutching his stomach with both hands, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open.
Hermione was the first to speak. “Ginny where have you been?” she wailed, throwing her hands up into the air. “We’ve been waiting for you for nearly half an hour.” She glanced down and took in Ginny’s muddied state. “And what in Merlin’s name happened to your robes?”
“I slipped in a puddle on my way to Honeydukes,” said Ginny, hopping off the bench. “But it’s no big deal. I’ll just wash off when we get back to the castle. Which we really should be doing…” She tried to inch around Hermione, but was stopped when the older girl threw an arm out in front of her.
Hermione’s face took on a daunting resemblance to Professor McGonagall’s. “Not so fast, young lady. You still haven’t told us where you’ve been all this time. Harry said that you’d gone to buy quills, but the student supply shop is on the other side of town.”
Relinquishing her attempt to escape further questioning, Ginny tried to look innocent as she told yet another quick lie, something that was rapidly becoming a habit of hers. “I stopped at the Post Office to send a letter to my mum,” she blurted out. “What with all the rain, I ended up staying there for most of time. I was on my way back to Honeydukes when I ran into Luna.”
Raising her eyebrows, Hermione opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a loud groan from Ron.
He had sunk down next to the bench and was repeatedly banging his head against the lamppost, moaning in what sounded like pure agony. Harry, who had knelt down beside him, got to his feet and turned to Ginny.
“He took Hermione’s challenge a little too seriously,” he said quietly, not wanting Ron to hear them talking about him. “He would have made it all the way too, if it weren’t for the Peppermint Toads. I think all the hopping was just too much for him.”
Ginny suppressed a laugh at the look of mixed pity and revulsion on Hermione’s face. “I’m sure he’ll survive,” she said. “Let’s just get him back to Hogwarts before we get a repeat of the slug incident.”
A squeamish look crossed Harry’s face, but he managed to drag Ron to his feet and swing one of the sickly redhead’s arms over his shoulder. Ginny supported his other side, and with Hermione and Luna trailing behind, the five friends started off on the path leading to their school.
Harry and Ginny deposited Ron in the Great Hall, and stood alongside him among the many students that were milling about the room, showing off their new purchases. Luna had bid them goodbye (and good luck getting rid of the Jarklins), and set off for her common room, while Hermione had settled herself at the Gryffindor table, her nose buried in A Complete Guide to Advanced Arithmancy.
“I reckon he’ll be alright in a couple of hours,” said Harry, nodding at Ron. “There’s no point in taking him to the Hospital Wing. It’ll only embarrass him.”
Ginny collapsed in the chair next to Hermione and rubbed her sore shoulder. “He could use some of Madam Pomfrey’s weight loss draught, though,” she said bitterly. “My arm will never be the same again after carrying that oaf around!” She thought she saw Hermione’s lips twitch into a grin at her complaints, but on closer inspection, she seemed to be thoroughly involved in her book.
Giving her arm one last squeeze, Ginny unconsciously surveyed the crowd of students still passing through the huge oak doors of the Great Hall. Her eyes landed on the person she had been watching for, and it took her several seconds before she realized that she was ogling a very blonde Slytherin.
He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he turned his attention away from his friends to glance at the Gryffindor table. His eyes met hers and as he looked at her, a curious expression crossed his face. Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion and glanced down at herself to see what had caught his interest, feeling color rise in her cheeks as she remembered her mud-spattered clothes.
She glanced up to look back at Malfoy, but found that he had already left the Great Hall with his fellow Slytherins. Her eyes swept over her friends and she noticed that Hermione had abandoned her reading, and was instead regarding Ginny with a suspicious look on her face. She hoped it didn’t have anything to do with her flushed cheeks or who she had been staring at from across the hall.
Letting out what she hoped would be her last sigh for the day, she lifted herself gingerly out of her chair. “I’m going to head back to the common room,” she said, avoiding Hermione’s unnerving stare. “Make sure Ron doesn’t eat any more candy.”
With that, she spun around and dashed out of the Great Hall before anyone could argue, losing herself in the crowd of students.
When Ginny arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor tower, she blurted out the password and, ignoring the Fat Lady’s remarks on her bedraggled appearance, dived gratefully into the safety and relative quiet of the common room. She trekked up to her dormitory and grabbed her comfiest set of robes and one of her Weasley sweaters, dumping them on the bathroom counter before running herself a hot shower.
Her robes peeled away from her skin with some difficulty due to the drying mud coating them, and she realized with a groan that she had forgotten her scarf in Madam Puddifoot’s. It was probably still sitting on the booth for all she knew, as it was highly unlikely that she’d ever see it again.
Darn that Malfoy for distracting her.
Dropping the rest of her soiled clothes in a pile on the floor, she stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain around her. Hot droplets rolled down her face, and she wished that she could wash away her troubles as easily as the warm cascades of water were washing away the dirt on her skin.