To love or not to love, that is the question Chapter 2: Confusion and odd happenings
After a few minutes, a vague shape appeared. Ginny hadn't made light before and now she didn't recognize who was hidden in the shadows. But suddenly, the person spoke.
"Ginny? Is that you?" Hermione asked, sounding sleepy.
Ginny felt a stab of disappointment accompanied by a rush of relief at the other girl's voice. It wasn't Harry. But was that really what she had wanted? Maybe a nightly discussion would have… No. Ginny's mind snapped back to reality and she realized the other girl was staring at her with a peculiar expression.
"I said," Hermione enunciated clearly, "What are you doing here?"
She had obviously posed the question before and Ginny hadn't reacted because she had been about to figure out whether she was happy at Hermione's presence or whether she would have preferred somebody else's appearance.
"I was… I mean, I couldn't sleep properly, so I went to get me some food," Ginny replied distractedly and then remembered her manners.
"D'you want some cherry cake, too?" she offered the plate to Hermione, forgetting that she, being the daughter of two dentists, wouldn't even dare eat a piece of bread after brushing her teeth in the evening, much less an absolutely over-sugared (but nevertheless delicious) cherry cake. Right she was. Hermione cast a longing glance at the plate but turned away, murmuring something about getting herself some milk instead.
Ginny shrugged and flipped down onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. If Hermione wanted to deprive herself of the real niceties of life, it was fine with her. There would be more cake left for Ginny.
Having filled a glass with milk, Hermione went over to the table with it and seated herself opposite of the other girl. Ginny surveyed her, wondering what on earth it was that made Hermione seem trustworthy for Harry. Was it because she was so clever?
"But I'm clever, too," Ginny thought, "Only not in that omniscient way she is. And I think that being a know-it-all hardly leads to popularity among other people."
What was it then? It couldn't be her looks, either. Not that Hermione wasn't good-looking, in fact (ever since her front teeth had become normal-sized miraculously), she could be quite pretty when she tried. But Harry wasn't the type of guy to judge people after their outward appearance. Ginny sighed. It seemed that she would die not knowing the crucial difference between her and Hermione that mattered to Harry.
"Gin," Hermione's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Is everything all right with you? You keep staring off into space and looking as if something bothered you. Do you want to talk?"
Ginny let her gaze rest on the other girl's face, which showed genuine concern. For a brief moment, she was tempted to tell Hermione what was troubling her, but then she resolved not to. There wasn't anything Hermione could do and she didn't want anybody knowing how much Harry's indifference was bothering her. He would hardly change his behaviour, even if Hermione spoke to him on Ginny's behalf. So why pour out her heart to somebody who already had to deal with the problems of the Boy Who Lived? Ginny smiled faintly and shook her head.
"I'm fine, thanks," she muttered, "Good night, Hermione."
Ginny rose from the chair and headed up the stairs for her room, feeling Hermione's thoughtful gaze on her back who cupped her chin in her hands and said to herself, " If you are fine, then I am Trevor the Toad. Hm. Perhaps I should talk to Ron about Ginny. She's most decidedly not feeling well."
Having arrived in her room, Ginny jumped onto her bed, lay down and began to stare at the ceiling again, imagining gloomily what she would do the next day.
"Okay, first I will be tired seeing that I probably won't fall asleep anymore. Then I will have to look at the trio with their heads stuck together at breakfast, after breakfast, at lunch, in the afternoon, at dinner and after that, too…," she said out loud and realized that there wasn't much she could look forward to. In fact, there was absolutely nothing cheerful about the following day.
A moment, please, her alter-ego piped up.
"Oh no, not you again," Ginny muttered desperately.
Her inner voice wasn't exactly something that would cheer her up now. However, this time it was different.
Firstly, the voice announced firmly, you have holidays and that's certainly a fact worth approving. Secondly, why don't you just try to sleep longer in the morning? That would at least save you the trouble at breakfast and you wouldn't be so tired.
"Yeah, but what then? Trio-watching the rest of the day," Ginny thought dejectedly, refusing to see the positive aspects of life.
You know, there's something called Floo Powder, which is very practical if you want to get away. It can actually put you through one fireplace to another. But it's a very recent discovery, only about 500 years old, so the news of it might not have gotten through to you yet, said the voice with sarcasm so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.
Ginny rolled her eyes. Sod that bloody voice!
"And what are you suggesting? That I should visit my great-aunt Eugenia?" she asked angrily.
If that's what you would enjoy, the voice replied resignedly and fell silent.
Ginny furrowed her brows thoughtfully. Actually, the idea with the Floo Powder wasn't so bad. She had two or three Galleons left that she'd gotten from her parents because her school results had been very good. Yes, she would go to Diagon Alley and preferably spend the whole day there! It would be something else for a change. Smiling at that thought, Ginny finally went to sleep.
Rays of sunlight coming through her window woke her up in the late morning. Ginny yawned hugely and rubbed her eyes to get a clear view at the sky outside where the sun was already quite high. A quick glance at the clock informed her that it was five past ten.
"Fine," Ginny thought while snuggling to the blankets sleepily, "Family breakfast is over now. I'll get myself something light to eat and then I'll go to Diagon Alley."
She stood up with half-closed eyes to get herself dressed. On the way to her wardrobe, Ginny cast a glance at the man-sized mirror on the wall. Her reflection seemed a bit odd, but Ginny pushed the thought away. Firstly, she hadn't been looking at it properly and secondly, with half-closed eyes, she tended to not seeing things clearly.
Ginny put on some jeans and a T-shirt (wizard kids normally wore the Muggle fashion when they weren't at school) and went back to the mirror to comb her hair. Having arrived in front of it, she realized what had seemed so odd to her before.
The reflection in the mirror wasn't hers at all!
At least, Ginny refused to believe it was, due to the simple fact that the person in the mirror had black and not red hair.
"Okay," Ginny closed her eyes and said soothingly to herself, " Calm down. You're just imagining things. Now you'll open your eyes and see your normal reflection."
She looked at the mirror again and saw the black-haired girl staring back at her with her - Ginny's - own brown eyes full of disbelief. That was impossible! Ginny grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled it in front of her eyes to examine its color.
Black. Definitely.
What on earth was going on with her? Ginny looked back into the mirror, feeling confused. She noticed that her eyebrows were black as well. Hm. The dark hair looked strange with her pale skin. Strange, but not that bad, Ginny had to admit. Only- how could it have happened? Suddenly, it dawned to her and she wondered why she hadn't thought of that before. Somebody must've dyed her hair while she'd been sleeping! That sounded plausible. The who?-question was easily answered.
"There are only two people who would've done that," Ginny thought grimly, "Fred and George. Well, I shall have a word with them."
She went out and stormed into the twins' room. It was deserted.
"Damn," Ginny muttered and made her way down to the kitchen. But nobody was there, either. She spotted a piece of parchment on the kitchen table and took it. It was apparently addressed to her.
Dear Ginny, Molly Weasley had written, you were sleeping so sweetly, we didn't want to wake you up. But don't worry, you won't be missing anything: We are all going to the Ministry headquarters with your Dad to show Harry and Hermione around. You already know what they'll see. We shall be back in the afternoon. Have a nice day, my dear.
Love, Mum.
Ginny looked thoughtfully at the piece of parchment in her hand. So Fred and George had gone with them. Very clever. But they would have to deal with her in the evening, Ginny said to herself. Another thing occurred to her. Her parents weren't at home and neither were her adult brothers. That meant she would have to go to Diagon Alley with dyed hair, because she wasn't allowed to do magic and knowing Fred and George, the colour wouldn't be one of those you could wash out easily.
"Oh, no," Ginny groaned, "Just what I needed. People will be laughing their heads off at the sight of me."
But then again-did that really matter to her? Ginny usually didn't give a damn about other people's opinions, save those of Harry and her brother Charlie, maybe. She went to get her money and the box of Floo Powder. Also, she quickly scribbled a note so that the others would know where she was in case they arrived sooner than her.
Having thrown a fistful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, Ginny stepped into it and said 'Diagon Alley'. Several moments later, she stumbled out of the fireplace in the 'Leaky Cauldron'. After a minute, she was standing in Diagon Alley, where the sun was shining pleasantly and everybody seemed very busy.
"All the better for me," Ginny remarked silently, "Maybe there won't be so many people who will actually recognize me in their hurry."
As she passed Madame Malkin's, Ginny stopped and eyed the dress robes in the window with interest. They were from the latest fashion, Domenica Scarlatti's summer collection. Ginny was particularly taken with a robe at her right. It was narrowly cut and the skirt flared out only in the last third, which gave the robe an air of simple elegance that Ginny liked. Moreover, it had the color of dark champagne, which would certainly suit her well. The problem was the price, of course. Ginny knew that she couldn't afford such a robe. She already had a dress robe anyway, a dark violet one that her mother had made herself. It was a nice enough robe, but it couldn't compete with the beauty of this one.
"But why bother with dress robes? There won't be a Yule Ball next school year anyway," Ginny thought and walked on. Suddenly, she recalled the Yule Ball that had taken place in Hogwarts the previous year. Harry had asked her if she wanted to go with him in the end and she had had to turn him down because she'd already promised Neville to accompany him. If only she'd had more sense and had waited! If only… Ginny forced herself to think about something else. She'd made the experience that 'if only'- sentences were entirely pointless.
Ginny continued walking down the street and after a while she found herself in front of the shop with Magical Sports Supplies. She looked eagerly at the broomstick in the window. It was still a Firebolt because so far, there hadn't been made any better ones, but it looked wonderful all the same. Having six brothers had influenced Ginny. She loved Quidditch and, on contrary to Hermione, discussions about brooms, flying tricks and formations didn't bore her at all. She wasn't a bad Quidditch player either. In fact, whenever she played with Charlie, he was amazed by her skill and told her so. And coming from Charlie, that was really a compliment. Ginny examined the Firebolt through the window. It was so beautiful. That gleaming handle. Perfectly cut twigs… She noticed that somebody came standing next to her and looked at the broomstick as well, but she didn't think about the person further because she was absorbed with the magnificent appearance of the Firebolt.
Draco was looking at the broomstick closely. He would have to persuade Father to buy him a Firebolt to match Potter's, otherwise he would have no chance to get the Snitch first in the next school year. Well. That was going to be a piece of hard work. Lucius didn't hesitate to buy his son everything he desired, but he also wanted to see results. For getting a Firebolt, he would have to actually beat Potter in a game.
He had stepped beside a girl that was looking at the Firebolt wistfully. Something about her had seemed familiar, yet he rather thought he hadn't seen her before. Giving her no more than this brief thought, Draco fixed his gaze on the masterpiece of a broomstick in the window. After a while he took a side-glance at the girl, but her face was hidden by her hair, so he didn't see her profile. But he could see the reflection of her face in the window. Those eyes! He knew them. He must've seen them somewhere before. Who was that girl? Draco was looking at her reflection openly, but the girl took no notice of him. He thought fast. Who had such a waterfall of black curls? The Patil girls had straight hair and their skin was darker, not so pale like this girl's. It couldn't be that Gryffindor Chaser, either, since Angelina Johnson was older than him and this girl seemed to be around his age, maybe slightly younger. He looked at her freckled face again.
Freckles!
Was that… no, it couldn't be. Not with that hair. On the other hand… if she had dyed it? Possibly. Draco decided to find out. He bent over to the girl and asked curiously, "Weasley? Is that you?"
Ginny was torn out of her day-dreaming about the Firebolt by the most unpleasant sound she could imagine. The voice of Draco Malfoy. She turned to him and saw him staring at her so incredulously that she would have laughed at his expression if it hadn't annoyed her so much.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped, not caring about what he was doing in Diagon Alley on his own.
The look of disbelief on his face vanished and was replaced by his usual sneer.
"Well, I guess it is you. What have you done to your hair? Have you been ashamed that everywhere you would go, people would recognize you as a Weasley? Then you should have removed your freckles as well. And bought something decent to wear. Because that's how you know a Weasley: red-haired, freckled and dressed in third-hand rags," he remarked with a quirk of his left eyebrow that made Ginny positively shake with fury.
She couldn't even express it with words how very much she hated Malfoy at that moment. All her frustration from the past few weeks seemed to concentrate on him.
"Take that back, Malfoy!" she hissed venomously.
He didn't look particularly bothered at her fierce tone.
"Beg your pardon?" he asked coolly.
"Take that back or I'll make you sorry!" she repeated hotly, wanting to lunge at him. He would be a convenient person to work off all her stowed anger on.
"What, are you going to hit me? I don't advise it. Because if you do, I'll get back at you," he warned her in a soft but dangerous voice.
The first wave of rage that had swept over Ginny subsided. She regained her composure and raised an eyebrow.
"What, you gonna hit me? A girl?"
Draco looked bored.
"Do I look as if I would want to touch filth like you? Why make my hands dirty when a hex is much more cleaner and effective?" he said, smirking. Obviously, the Ban for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry didn't extend itself to a Malfoy. How surprising.
Ginny decided not to lunge at him immediately.
"Oh, what are you afraid of, Malfoy? I'm just poor, that's not contagious," she pointed out.
Draco shrugged. "You never know. Moreover, you belong to a Muggle-loving family, which is as bad as being a mudblood. It's dirty. Impure."
Ginny's eyes flashed.
"Fine," she snarled, "That's enough. Take that, you smug bastard."
Having said that, she took a step towards him and kicked his shin, hard. With a pained exclamation, Draco staggered back and glared at her reproachfully. Ginny glared right back. She wasn't going to take insults from Malfoy anymore. If he attempted to curse her, she would defend herself.
"Not above using primitive force, are we?" he said acidly, but there was a hint of pain in his tone.
Good, Ginny thought with savage satisfaction, Serves him right.
Draco's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Well, I guess everybody uses what suits them best. One thing, however," he continued witheringly, "Let me point out while I may be many things, I'm certainly not a bastard. However, I guess I'd expect too much for you to know the difference."
Ginny suppressed her flaring temper.
"You know, Malfoy, when I'm really angry, I tend to lose my good aim. My foot might end in… other places than your shin," she said conversationally.
Involuntarily, Draco took a step back, which made Ginny grin widely.
He mentally scolded himself, "What the hell are you doing? Backing up from Weasley? Do something she won't forget so easily. Something embarrassing."
Suddenly he got an idea. He knew a very nice spell that would make Weasley's clothes transparent for a moment - only for the spell-caster - and he would see her underwear.
"Bet she won't like that," he thought and grinned as widely as Ginny had before, only more obnoxiously.
Ginny did notice the quick motion he made with his hand, but she was too slow to do anything. Before she could draw her wand, he had his pointed at her, but in an angle that the passing people couldn't see it.
"Don't move," he commanded softly and then muttered some words she didn't understand. For a moment she felt somehow…exposed, but the feeling passed quickly and Malfoy took a step back after surveying her closely.
"Was that all?" Ginny wondered silently, "I thought he was going to throw a hex at me."
But Malfoy seemed to be very satisfied all the same.
"Nice knickers, Weasley," he remarked in the same conversational tone she had used before, "I wouldn't have thought that you'd wear something in such a shocking shade of turquoise. Ah well. De gustibus non est disputandum."
And then - Ginny couldn't believe her eyes - he swept her a mocking bow.
"I must say that I am looking forward to our next encounter. It was most interesting," he added with a dirty smirk.
Ginny blushed deep red. How on earth did he know what she was wearing underneath her jeans? Was that because of the spell he'd muttered before? Probably. Trust Malfoy to come up with something like that. She wanted to slap him, to curse him and then leave him tied up somewhere in a cell where he would rot until Doomsday.
But Draco had already turned and had started to walk away. Moreover, she couldn't very well hex him in a street full of people, could she?
The people!
Had they… had they seen what Malfoy had seen? Ginny looked around her anxiously, but nobody was staring or pointing at her and so she supposed that somehow, the spell made her underwear visible only to the caster. However, while she'd been thinking and recovering from the shock and humiliation, Draco had been able to make his getaway. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn," Ginny swore silently, "But if he thinks that I won't get back at him, then he's gravely mistaken. Watch out Malfoy, you disgusting, leering git!"
Thanks for reviewing to sexytexy (actually, it was Tom in Ginny's dream - she hasn't been thinking much about Draco in Chapter 1 but I daresay this changed in this chapter *g*), Szaranea - of course there will be more chapters
;-), Sikora, burgosdamasco and BabyD.