A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with this story. It's been hard times, and consider this my very belated Christmas/Holiday present.
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Seven Days Later
Chapter Five: Seven Days Later
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"Ginny?"
I stood there, breathing deeply as I saw him turn a right sharply.
He didn't even bother with a backwards glance.
"Ms. Weasley?"
My hands unclenched at my sides and I blinked steadily, but I could tell my stance was still rigid and the scowl on my face melting with time.
"For Merlin's sake-"
"What?"
I turned around to see Ms. Clearwater standing with the door knob in her hand, a furious expression in her eyes. Oh.
"If you would please return to class, I only needed you to remove your costume...where's Mr. Malfoy?"
"He..."
I drove him away again.
"Yes?"
"...went to the infirmary. Something about a headache...you know, the ferret can't withstand slight pain."
"Please do not insult your peers in front of me, Ms. Weasley."
But she was smiling.
I nodded quickly and shuffled back in class, horribly aware that everyone was staring at me and the red, angry blotches clear on my pained face.
"Potter, Granger...up on the stage, please..."
For the next ten minutes I pleasured myself with Hermione's horrible acting, Harry's continuous blushing and the outburst from the class when they ended their scene with a kiss.
I couldn't help but fade when they broke apart.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Gin, what was that about?"
"It's none of your business, Ron."
"Did he hurt you? I swear to Merlin I will beat his ferret arse-"
"As if you could."
"Ginny!"
"Ronald!"
"Of course I could!"
"Please, save me your desperate attempts at scrambling for masculinity, I have charms homework I have to do."
I pushed past Ron towards the girls dormitory, the stairs edging closer and closer...but then I collided hard with a solid body, furious brown eyes peering down at me.
I hated how tall Ron had gotten.
"Yes?" I snapped, taking the time to swipe my hair away from my forehead.
"This isn't about me. It's about you, and the look on your face today when you walked back into class. And the look on the bleeding ferret's face when you two finished up your skit. I'm not an idiot, Gin."
"News to me."
"This is how I know something's up!"
"I'm always a sarcastic, annoying bint, Ron. It doesn't mean anything."
With that I shoved past him and stomped up the stairs, all too aware of Ron's piercing gaze tracing my path to my dormitory.
If Ron Weasley, ignorant prick of England, could tell something was wrong with me...
I sighed.
~-~-~-~-~-~
I ignored Malfoy in my thoughts for the rest of the day. Unsuccessfully, for the most part, but I managed to complete all of my homework in time for a nice, lounging period in the common room with my pillow, the fireplace...
...and Hermione.
"Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"Could...could we go up to your dormitory for a bit?"
"Hermione..."
"It's just...I need to talk to you about, um, something really important...and...well..."
"You're head girl, why don't you just tell everyone to get out of the common room?"
"I could never exercise my powers so vulgarly!" I giggled. "And besides, Malfoy will probably be lurking around like he usually does. And this is definitely something I don't want him eavesdropping on."
I swallowed.
"Okay, let's go."
We edged quietly around the sofas, careful not to provoke any attention to our departure, and eventually we ended up where I began, huddled in my bed with smiles on our faces.
"So what is it, Hermione?"
"I had a question, really."
"Shoot."
"What do you do when...well...you know...you really, really like someone, but you can't, because of, well, the situation? Not the situation...I can't call it that, because it's not really...but it is. In a way. But more of a...I mean, we're friends. Best of friends. But we can't have feelings for one another. And he certainly doesn't have any feelings for me, and it would just ruin things, because we're friends. Best of friends. And-"
"Hermione," I whispered, leaning forwards slightly. "If you're talking about Harry-"
"H-Harry?" Hermione giggled, one of those fake, snorts-up-your-nose sort of giggles that never failed to twitch my smiles, before she sighed and swatted at me with her hand. "What makes you think it's Harry?"
"You're being awfully obvious."
"Obvious? About what? This is just completely hypothetical. Hypothetically, what would I do, if hypothetically, I really, really liked someone, yet hypothetically I couldn't, because of the hypothetical situation, because we were hypothetically fr-"
"If you like Harry, I think you should go for it."
"I...I should?"
"Yes."
"But...what if we don't...what if we break up? And..and it gets awkward, and the tensions between us make him feel as if he didn't need me there, and I was so...so tormented by it that I didn't want to be by his side, when really I do, you know I do, it's the...and Ron, what about Ron?" Hermione looked at the door, and whispered, "What about Ron?"
"Ron will be fine," I said reassuringly. "He...he might need some time to adjust, but he knows deep down. Just like all of us knew. It's okay, Herm...if you don't trust your feelings, you don't have anything else to rely upon. Cold, hard facts are worthless if there's no passionate emotion hugging them tight."
Hermione looked at me, blinking, as if seeing me for the first time. Finally, she whispered, "Yeah. I guess you're right."
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Cold hard fact: It's fucking Draco Malfoy.
Passionate emotion: ...what am I kidding. There's no passion. No emotion. There's nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing-
"-to worry about."
I snapped my head to the side to see Harry Potter standing there, head bowed and feet shuffling.
"Sorry?"
"There's..something you should know," he muttered.
"What?"
"Well...Hermione just told me to tell you that she has to switch patrolling times with you. She...uh...has some other business to attend to..."
Harry looked quite guilty, and it was all I could do to stifle the laughs begging to escape.
"Some other business? What, does she have an appointment with shagalicious you?"
"Ginny!" Harry hissed and I couldn't help it. I barked out laughing.
"It's not that funny," he muttered, looking quite frightened. "Hermione and I have to do our Defense Against the Dark Arts project together, we were assigned it today and it's the only time, because of quidditch and everything...and besides, you'll be cringing soon enough."
"Why's that?"
"Your new patrolling time's tonight, 8:00...you're supposed to meet Malfoy in front of McGonagall's classroom."
I swear it just got colder.
"What?"
"Malfoy's your patrolling partner...he...um...doesn't know, but I guess he'll figure it out when you start patrolling with him-"
"Harry!" I hissed, stepping closer to him. "How-"
"I know it's...but..."
Harry looked so dejected...but so hopeful. Here was a perfect opportunity for Harry and Hermione to maybe finally get together...they both knew it, too...
I sighed.
This was huge.
Huger than...
Well.
Nothing.
Yeah, it was nothing. Just another patrol with another bastard.
"Sure, Harry," I said, smiling at him. "I'll do it."
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They owe me.
Big.
Okay.
Deep breath.
In.
Out.
Yes.
I shook my head and walked out of the common room, my feet echoing strangely on the stone floor as I moved briskly to McGonagall's classroom. I could see that I would get there first.
Great.
I had to wait for the ferret boy.
I leaned against the wall next to the door and tapped my foot against the floor.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen minutes...
Screw this.
I started walking back to the common room but was stopped by a sight I thought I would never see.
Harry and Hermione entering the common room, blushes on their faces and their fingers entwined.
It was just the beginning of the night...they were probably going back up to Harry's dormitory for some privacy, to talk things out...
...if I walked back in there, Hermione would know. She'd get all flustered and go back to her dorm to talk to Malfoy, demand why he didn't come..
...it would ruin everything...
I sighed.
Great.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Excuse me?"
"What," said the big-nosed, lumpy-haired, glaring woman in the portrait. "Ms. Granger isn't here, if you're here to see her."
"I'm not," I snapped. "I'm actually here to see Draco Malfoy. Is he in there?"
She sniffed, turned away from me and muttered, "I can't say."
Eugh.
"Buckbeak."
"Excuse me?"
"That's the password. Now open up."
"How dare you!"
I was the one who thought it up. Hermione got the opportunity to change the password and she asked me if I had any suggestions...
"I gave you the password, so-"
The portrait swung open and I didn't waste any time walking in.
Okay. Door on the left is Hermione's. Door on the right should be Malfoy's...
Right as I walked up to it I heard a groan.
...What?
I grabbed the door knob and stepped inside to find Pansy Parkinson straddling Draco Malfoy, unbuttoning his shirt.
No.
I had to get out of here.
I swallowed and turned around, running out of the room.
Out.
I heard a muffled "Wait!" but I didn't pay any attention to it, focusing instead of getting out of that hell hole as fast as possible.
Idiot!
What were you expecting? What? Merlin, Ginny, you did it again. It's fucking Draco Malfoy. You don't have any feelings for him. You don't. At all. You're just upset because he stood Hermione up to have sex with Pansy Parkinson...that's it. That. Is. It. It has nothing to do with the fact that you thought you had something special with him but he's really just romping around with that pug...
"Ginny!"
Merlin, was he chasing me? I looked back to see Draco Malfoy running down the stairs, in his pajamas, his shirt still unbuttoned, his nose red and runny, his hair a mess, a thin layer of sweat adorning his skin...
...wait...
"Gin-"
But he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. He fell down the stairs instead.
"Draco!" I screamed, running back. Thankfully he only had a few steps to go but he was sprawled on the floor, his face hidden beneath his arm and his body unmoving.
Shit. Shit! Oh, dear, Merlin.
"Draco," I said hurriedly, getting down on my knees with my hands shaking just above him. Do I touch him? Was he okay? Would I make it any worse?
"Eugh," he muttered, rolling to his side as he tried to get up.
"Stop, you'll just hurt yourself-"
"I don't need your fucking help to get up-"
But then he collapsed and with inhumane strength I found myself pulling him up, my arm around his waist as I held him, supported, in some unknown hallway at the nest of a deserted staircase.
"Get your hands off me."
"You're welcome, Malfoy."
"Back to Malfoy, are we?"
I decided to ignore him.
"You...you look awful..."
And he did.
He looked worse than Charlie when he caught the Wizard's flu...
"I'm-" But Draco took that wonderful opportunity to sneeze. Again. And again. And yet...again.
"Yeah, obviously."
I nearly laughed.
He was sick.
That was it...he was just sick.
I started walking slowly back up the stairs, supporting his body with my own and I couldn't help but feel slightly warmer knowing it was him, beside me, leaning against me...
"Where are we going," he muttered, sniffing his nose.
"Your room."
"No!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear as he cranked his head to look at me. "We can't go there, Parkinson is going to maul me again-"
"Okay, okay..."
Maul?
I felt surprisingly better.
"I'm taking you to the hospital wing," I said, hoisting him slowly up the stairs. "We're getting you some medicine."
"I can't," he said, sniffing. "I have a patrol duty with Granger. And I don't need Pompous Pomfrey to help me, either."
"Well, you certainly need my help to get up these pathetic stairs-"
He stopped walking and he turned to glare at me, that cold gaze back in his eyes.
"I never needed you, Weasley."
I swallowed.
"I never will. And I don't now," Draco said, his words hitching slightly.
It gave me a flare of hope...and a burst of unwelcomed courage.
"Then why did you follow me?" I asked. I noticed that I still had my arm around his waist and he still had one around my shoulders...and that he was still impossibly warm against my own body. I could feel him there, next to me, I could smell his musky, expensive scent...it was dawning on me just how much I liked this, how much I was hoping, praying, begging for...for something...
He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but no words came out, and a look of confusion grew on his face before he muttered, "I didn't want you spreading any rumors about Parkinson and me...if you must know, she heard I was sick and came gallivanting into my quarters, bent on curing me with..." Here he shuddered, which brought a smile to my face.
And we trudged onwards, without the burden of words.
That is, until we got to the door of the infirmary.
"Piss off, Weasley," he muttered, one hand on the doorknob, one arm still around my shoulder.
What?
"Excuse me?" I hissed, unwinding my own arm from around his waist.
"Just piss off. You've gotten poor, stray Malfoy to the fucking infirmary. Your charity case is closed for the day. No more good deeds need escape."
"What are you on?" He was staring at the infirmary door now, face expressionless and undeniably pale. "What the bleeding hell do you want from me, Malfoy?"
And that's when I remembered.
He had bared his soul, and I had told him to fuck off.
I took a quick breath, remembering that I was supposed to hate him. That I had closed everything off, that I had made a mistake, that Malfoy didn't have feelings or a soul or a beating heart or anything that he could even remotely offer me. I had seen him sweaty and sniffly and sneezing and I had forgotten everything, as if it had been as weightless as the tissue he was holding in his hand.
"What do I want from you? What the bleeding hell do I want from you?" And with this he closed his eyes, bent his head slightly towards the door, and emptily chuckled deep in his throat. The sight and the sound and the sudden burden of his arm on my shoulder scared me, in ways I couldn't even begin to explain. "You should know, you fucking wench. All I wanted was that trophy of yours, a romp between the sheets...or did you forget?"
I swallowed.
He was gazing at me now, that piercing, calculating stare that caught my every motion, every thought, until I was trapped and never wanted to escape. I opened my mouth to retort, but was caught off guard by the sudden whiff of his scent as he leaned towards me and captured my lips with his. He plundered my mouth, holding my head tightly with his fingers, body pushed against mine with desperation-and then it was over. And then he had pushed me away from him, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes as clear and bright and cold as I had ever seen them.
"I fucking hate you," he hissed, his hand finding purchase once again on the doorknob.
I froze. Because right at that second, I realized something.
I loved him.
He was about to open the door when I felt my mouth forming words I still couldn't understand.
"I fucking love you."
I don't know why I said it. I think I knew, somewhere, that his opening that door would close any entrance I had found to his heart. That his hand clenching that doorknob slowly but surely eased mine off whatever I had latched onto in his mind, in his dreams...
I saw his back clench, his shoulders tense, his eyes close and breath falter.
I couldn't breathe. I could only clench my throat, swallow, wait...
And soon, soon enough, he raised his head. And before I knew what was happening he had me pinned against the wall, his hands furiously clenching my shoulders, his eyes gasping and his mouth growling.
"I fucking hate you," he whispered again, his eyes searching my own. But instead of igniting anger, bitterness...my heart warmed, a little bit.
"I know," I stated simply. And without any hesitation, my hands found themselves on his face, entwined in his hair. His eyes fluttered closed as he moved a little closer to my touch, his face following the cups of my hands, subconsciously sighing at their warmth.
He leaned into me then, his head nestling itself between my cheek and my shoulder, his nose nuzzling my neck. His arms had somehow found their way around my waist...and although this embrace had a touch of desperation, a tint of rough need...it also held something more. Comfort. The knowledge that he needed someone, needed me...and that I was here, in his arms.
"Draco," I finally whispered, when I felt him shift in my arms.
And sneeze.
Again.
And again.
And...again.
"I'm catching a bleeding cold out here in this drafty hall," he said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. "It's fucking freezing."
But I couldn't help and notice that his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes...that his eyes were almost smirking at me.
And then he grabbed my hand, his fingers entwining themselves between mine, before he placed his other hand on the doorknob and walked into the infirmary with me in tow.
When I walked back to the common room later, elation clear on my face, I saw Ron playing chess with Harry, the two of them on their stomachs. And then I saw Hermione's head resting on Harry's back, her hair splayed all over his robes while she read a thick, crusty book. She peered at me from over it, her eyes smiling, and I nodded.
Hermione always told anyone who would listen that it took her and Harry seven years to fall madly, desperately in love.
I always smile to myself when she says this, when those listening widen their eyes and coo, mentioning how romantic it was, how the best relationships are built from strong friendships.
I, on the other hand, always told anyone who would listen that it took Draco and I seven days to fall madly, desperately in love.
That a mere seven days later, we had gone out of our minds.
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A/N: reviewing's good for the soul...
Yet another one done! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. I hope all of your wishes came true.