Chapter 19: Need
The next week came and dragged on with little to no new excitements for the trio, and each one found it to be just as well. They'd had quite enough just recently, and Harry knew he wasn't the only one needing a reprieve.
Classes were harder than usual owing to it being their seventh year, what with N.E.W.T.s approaching. It was especially hard for Hermione since she had finally decided to take Madame Pomfrey up on her offer to give her private Healer lessons. They came about the same time as Harry's extra lessons with Lupin, so Ron was left with more time on his own now than he knew what to do with. Almost. He and Lavender had seemed to come up with good uses for the time, he'd told them with a smirk and a wink one day. Hermione had given him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes, but Harry had favored him a thumbs up behind her back.
Each night, Harry came back to he and Hermione's dorms and either found her waiting for him, or vice versa. They headed to the Great Hall, met Ron and Lavender there, had a brief dinner, and returned to their common room exhausted and ready for bed, but unwilling to go without a good bit of snogging first. As Harry had told Hermione one night, it would've been like trying to sleep knowing you'd left the door unlocked, the stove on, and the refrigerator open. There was no way. Hermione had replied with a wry smile that even though Harry wasn't the most eloquent of wizards, she knew what he meant.
The nightly snogging ritual had been one that had only been broken during the summer months since last year. They'd always been careful not to go too far, but now more than ever before it had been becoming increasingly more difficult for them to keep from crossing the line…the line that they wanted to save until marriage. Harry was still as determined as ever to respect Hermione, and to keep her from making a mistake should he not make it through his final battle with Voldemort, and Hermione was just as determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself ages ago. But as they looked at each other after each long day, snuggled closely together in front of the fire in a common room that seemed cozily like their very own flat, they inevitably began moving a little farther than they had intended. Each time they stopped just short of going too far…blushed, breathless, and uncontained. And so it was the night before the morning that fear really returned to Hogwarts.
It was almost midnight now, Sunday night, and an exhausted Harry knew he and Hermione should be heading to bed, but it had become more and more difficult to let her go every night. His world had been given one great upheaval after another recently, and she was his constant in the madness, his buoy in the raging sea that now made up his existence. This only added to the fact that he simply loved her with all of the life that he owned.
They were in their pajamas, and Harry was inches from her face as he and Hermione sat cross-legged, facing each other on the soft carpet in front of the common room fire. His eyes raked every inch of her face and body, and his fingers continued to outline the shadows the flames made on her cheek.
Hermione shuddered and closed her eyes at his soft touch, so erotic in its restraint. This, coupled with the wonder he always held in his gaze when he looked at her, was the thing that turned her on the most. It was a grown up Harry, tall and strong, and yet looking at her with an almost child-like gaze, staring and touching her as if she were some precious gift he'd never thought to receive. When his gaze locked with hers, the look in their unusually clear green depths was enough to send a thrill of longing straight to her core.
Harry let his fingers continue their journey, sliding from her face to her neck and down further as he breathed her name. They'd finished talking about the day long ago. There were no more words to say; none that needed to be said…only this. As their eyes locked with each other, anything else that would have been discussed blew away like the wind anyway.
Harry put his hands on either side of her face and drew her in, giving her a kiss that was so soft, and yet so slow and seeringly heated that it left her quaking. His tongue touched her lips and then entered her mouth, leisurely moving in the way he wished other parts of him could, and Hermione gave in to him, putting her arms round his shoulders and pulling him as closely to her as she could.
Harry's hands came down to circle her waist, and he pulled her on top of his lap, finally crushing his lips to hers and letting his hands wander over her back and lower, touching, caressing, grabbing and grinding her body closer to his. He was on fire with need, and he felt every part of his body responding to her. He knew she felt it as well by the way she continued to make small whimpering noises, grinding against him and whispering his name every time their mouths left each other for a brief moment to breathe, only to crash back into each other again.
Hermione's skin blazed where he touched her and she felt warmth and a fierce hunger beginning to trickle down her body. She wrapper her legs even tighter around his middle, and her heart drummed out an erratic rhythm of desire that continued to build with each movement he made.
Harry's blood boiled like lava in his veins, his pulse pounding out her name in his head. An inferno was building with every movement she made against him. He laid her back on the carpet, his hands wandering closer and closer to the few parts of her body he'd yet to explore, and she found herself driving against him despite herself, her hands wandering lower and lower across his back, down his arms and chest, stopping just at his lower abdomen. At this, a low growl escaped from him that sounded so carnal that they both began losing control.
She was addictive, sweet, intensely satisfying, dizzying; leaving everything blurry around the edges. It left him with an appetite for more…craving a primal release that was burning him like some blazing hot iron on his skin. Her hair was thick and wild, and smelled of honeyed berries. Her skin was soft and alive, and he felt the goosebumps that rose on her skin every time his breath neared her ear, exhaling her name like a prayer. Her lips were warm and kiss-swollen, inviting more, and Harry was rapidly approaching the feeling that if they didn't stop now, he soon wouldn't be able to. He'd thought that Hermione was the strong one, that she was the one that kept their promise to each other in focus when things began to get too heated, but if he'd seen the scandalous thoughts that were running through her mind at that particular moment…things that she wanted to do to him, and things that she wanted him to do to her, even the most innocent one would've made him blush.
Hermione finally ended the madness, reprimanding herself over and over in her mind until her body finally followed suit. She began to slow the feverish kissing between them and Harry followed, doing his best to calm himself.
Gods, he needed her; body, soul and mind. There was no way he'd wait any longer than needed when he was finally able to propose, no matter how young they were…when all of this was finally over.
Hermione smiled at him as she crawled backward to sit a few feet from him and get her bearings back. She looked him over. His hair was sticking up all over, his nightshirt was open, showing a nice expanse of chest and a line of baby fine black hair that led below his waist band, and his glasses had long since been discarded somewhere beside the couch. She wanted to devour him, and then blushed at her own thoughts.
She brushed her hair away from her face and began to slow her breathing. "Alright Harry…mum always taught me to flee from even the appearance of evil…"
"How's that?" Harry frowned at her, rustling his hair frustratedly. "How am I evil!?"
She smiled seductively at him. "You make me want to sin."
Harry slowly grinned back at her and crawled over to her again, but this time he picked her up, threw her on the couch and began to tickle her. She began screaming and laughing but he clamped a hand over her mouth and continued his torture. "I can deal with that."
Hermione screamed and flailed, slapping and punching at him until he finally stopped, but only because he was laughing too hard at her to continue.
Hermione scowled at him and sat up, smoothing her hair back down. "Oh, you are evil…you must be destroyed."
Harry stuck his bottom lip out at her. "Just tell me you don't love me. That'll do it."
"My mum also told me never to lie," said Hermione with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
Harry smiled at her and offered her his hand. "Your mum is a smart woman." She took it and stood, and he began leading her to her room.
Once inside, Hermione crawled under the red quilt and sheets on her bed and Harry pulled them up to her shoulders and tucked her in. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and kissed it, sitting back on his haunches.
"Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, love. Going to try out?" He teased.
"Sure," replied Hermione with a smile, "Right after I finish all of my classes naked."
"You could try that around here, you know."
Hermione laughed. "Git." She drew her arms out from under the covers to slap Harry playfully on the chest.
Harry grinned at her, until the smile slowly faded. He continued gazing at her for a moment and then whispered to her. "I love you."
Hermione reached out and pulled Harry's face to hers, giving him a soft kiss. "I love you all there is."
Harry stood and walked over to her doorway, muttering 'Extinguo' without his wand. The lights in her room immediately snuffed out, leaving Hermione wondering as he walked away if he even knew he'd done it.
Harry knew. Over the past week with Lupin, he'd been given the opportunity to try more wandless magic as his father often stopped their lesson five to ten minutes before time so that Harry could practice it specifically. He'd successfully summoned his sword back to himself one time when Lupin had driven it out of his hands to land a few yards from him. He'd muttered the 'Immobulus' charm on Lupin's steps as he'd advanced, effectively stopping him in his tracks for a few moments as he'd charged at him. He'd even been able, at one time, to toss his father back a few steps with a simple wave of his hand. But all of those times had been when he'd been filled with a lot of emotion. He'd been taut from the sword fights, on edge simply from spending a lot of alone time with his father, and trying to pretend that he was fighting Voldemort. The charm he'd just muttered to put out the lights in Hermione's room though had been muttered without a second thought and without any particularly strong emotions behind it. That, Harry had not noticed.
He entered his room, dropped onto the bed without bothering to crawl under the covers, and fell into an exhausted sleep without a second thought.
******************************************
The morning sun beamed into Harry's eyes way too early as far as he was concerned and he sat up groggily, swiping a hand over his face and ruffling his hair into an even wilder state of disarray.
He blearily grabbed his robe and began heading toward the bathroom he and Hermione shared, but a chink of light from under the door, and the steady pounding of water sounding clearly from the other side made him stop just short of trying the doorknob. He watched the steam waft out from the bottom of the door, and the thought of Hermione in there, in the state that people are normally in when bathing, brought him awake with a snap.
He rushed away from the door to wait his turn on the common room couch and concentrated heavily on thoughts of Speedoclad!Dudley doing water ballet until he could get himself under control again. Merlin, this was going to be one long year…
He and Hermione made their ways to the Great Hall. The ceiling reflected the beginnings of a lovely day; the bewitched picture of outside showing a slightly overcast sky with fluffy clouds filtering the morning sun.
The two sat down opposite Lavender and Ron, the latter of whom seemed to be in much worse shape than Harry. But though he had never been a morning person, Harry suspected the sick look on Ron's face stemmed from something completely different.
"October first, Ron," said Harry with a small smile as he filled a bowl with cereal and reached out a hand, summoning the bottle of milk to him as an afterthought. The bottle slid over to him and slapped neatly into his open palm. Hermione stared at him. "Ready for tryouts?"
No one else seemed to notice the wandless bit of magic. Ron glanced at Harry and Hermione with puffy red-rimmed eyes, groaned pitifully and ignored Harry's question. He leaned his head on his hand and unknowingly squashed his elbow into a pile of corned beef hash. " 'Lo mates. I feel like hell."
Lavender turned to him briskly and picked up his elbow, placing it beside his plate instead and beginning to lump a pile of fruit in front of him. "Ron, I wish you wouldn't eat that rubbish. It's so disgusting."
Ron looked up at her with a slightly green tinge to his face. "Dobby made it 'specially for me, Lav…knows I need protein what with the tryouts today and all." He glanced at Harry with the last comment as if to show him he'd heard his earlier question. "Nice elf, that one."
"It is rather vile Ron," said Hermione sounding a lot like his mother, "Besides, a good bit of fruit and some toast would be better if you're wanting to do your best."
Harry squinted clinically at Ron and then sat back on the bench with a slump. "You overdid the butterbeer again last night, didn't you? Merlin's beard Ron, how're you supposed to play today!?""
Ron groaned and looked up with blurry eyes. "I have all day to recover, I'll hack it! Sorry mate, it was Seamus. We were playing 'Hell or Hex' and he dared me to drink a couple of quarts."
Lavender looked at him reproachfully. "Only that's not all, is it!?" She snapped. "No, he dared you to stand on your head and drink until you could belch out every word to that new Werewolf Wilmur song, 'Howlo my love', didn't he!?"
Hermione nearly dropped her mug of pumpkin juice. "He what!? Ron, no wonder you're sick! You boys and your idiot games…"
Ron winked blearily at her and gave her a stupid grin. "Good song, that."
Despite himself Harry began laughing, dodging the reproachful looks he received from both Lavender and Hermione.
Ron turned back to Lavender. "Well I would've been daft to take the hex, now wouldn't I?" He looked at Harry for support. "Harry, you know how he's always banging on about 'Weasley' hair… well he was going to make real carrots grow from my head! I mean which would you have done? He's a real blighter, that one."
"Oh and I suppose refusing both of them was out of the question, was it?" asked Lavender briskly, eyeing him as she flipped her blonde hair.
Ron looked at her as if she had a grindylow attached to her face. "Well of course it was."
Harry snorted, stuffing a rather large piece of toast in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Hermione turned to look closely at him, but at that moment owls began swooping in from the front of the Great Hall laden down with packages, letters and copies of the Daily Prophet. The madness of so many of them flying and fluttering too and fro among the students took the focus from Ron and he accepted it gratefully, giving Harry a relieved look. Harry grinned at him.
Hermione untied her copy of the Daily Prophet from the brown school owl's leg, dropped a couple of knuts into it's pouch and unrolled the paper to smooth it out in front of her. She picked up an apple and raised it to her mouth to take a bite but the large black headlines that stared at her from the front page made her drop it back on the table with a loud thud and a gasp.
"NO!…Oh no…"
Harry took in her alarmed face and dropped his spoon back into his cereal bowl to scoot closer to she and the paper, and Lavender and Ron looked up as well, straining from across the table to read the upside-down words in front of them. Neville Longbottom, seated next to Lavender, also craned his neck to get a peek.
A large black and white photo of the outside grounds of Azkaban complete with an infuriated, gobsmacked Cornelius Fudge, a group of around ten Aurors, some of whom Harry recognized from the Order and one whose face he couldn't see, and a few wizard reporters snapping pictures of the carnage around them moved animatedly in front of the group.
ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN: MISSING DEMENTORS SUSPECTED
By Lorivan Thatchmire
The dark wizard prison, Azkaban, was overrun yet again last night, though there seems to be no evidence of a break in. A total of ten prisoners have reportedly escaped from their cells, bringing to mind the events of two years prior, when the same number escaped. The escapees have all been positively identified as Death Eaters.
Among those sprung from their cells last evening was one Bellatrix Lestrange, along with many of the others who broke out, and were then recaptured following the previous break out of two years prior. This brings the number of suspected Death Eaters on the loose up to around fifteen.
Upon reaching the scene, Aurors assigned to the case first noticed a scattering of the bodies of around twenty dementors; the creatures who's job it has been to secure the prison from its very beginning. The prison normally houses around fifty to seventy dementors at a time, but the rest have yet to be found. This, along with the fact that there is no evidence indicating an assault from outside forces, has led wizard investigators to believe that the break out was a result of defection from the inside.
Says one Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and expert hitwizard from the Ministry of Magic: "We've no other explanation for why over half of the dementors are missing, and the remaining twenty are dead. We've reached the conclusion that some of the dementors tried to stop the breakout and inevitably lost their lives due to being outnumbered.
It's a shame really, for two reasons. Number one, the ministry will have to sacrifice some of its already overworked staff to take over guarding the prison. And worse, number two, we can only come to one conclusion as to why the dementors would decide on desertion of their posts. They've finally, truly chosen sides."
This revelation, of course, again brings to mind the events of two years prior, when it appeared that some of the dementors had already renounced the Ministry and helped to spring the previously freed ten death eaters. Many of the dementors returned to work only days later, claiming that they had been out on the search for the missing inmates. Of course, now, one must wonder if those dementors returned to their jobs only to free the remaining Death Eaters when the time became convenient.
This reporter for one, hopes that the Ministry will soon find evidence that proves otherwise, because for now, it seems certain that the Dementors have not chosen on the side of good."
After Hermione had finished reading the article aloud to the three, along with Neville, surrounding her, a heavy silence fell over them. The lighthearted feeling they had had only moments before had now been washed away and they were left with a sick feeling of dread.
Neville, in particular had suddenly become pale and drawn. As soon as Hermione had finished the article, he'd mumbled something inarticulate and fled the Great Hall. Ron said that he'd become immediately mental at the mention of Lestrange's name.
Ron was also upset by the news but for different reasons. He and Lavender had just been able to warm up to each other again since the period that she had chosen to stay away from him out of fear after the dark mark incident in Diagon Alley. Now, he was afraid that the bad news they'd all just heard might make her fearful once again to be around the three teens that Voldemort seemed to target the most. Rather, it was Harry the dark lord targeted, but neither Ron nor Hermione would ever leave his side, so what one went through, they all did. He knew if it came down to choosing between his friendships with Harry and Hermione or his relationship with Lavender that he would choose the former, but he hoped it never came to that.
He took a tentative look at Lavender's face, and though she was white and filled with fear, she scooted closer to him and looped her arm in his as if he might protect her. Ron allowed himself to relax a bit. That had to be a good sign…
As soon as the article had finished being read, Harry and Hermione seemed to have the same thoughts about it. Their gaze inevitably wandered up front towards the professors table, and both saw Dumbledore and McGonnagol, their heads close together with Snape's, in deep discussion over what appeared to be a copy of the newspaper. The rest of the teachers all seemed to be involved in discussions of their own as well.
The rest of the Great Hall soon began to reverberate with hushed and murmured discussions that sounded nervous and altogether fearful. Word traveled fast at Hogwarts.
Neither Harry nor Hermione needed three guesses to figure out what they were talking about.
Across the hall, Draco Malfoy had just finished reading the headlined news as well. Some of the Slytherin table was cackling to each other about the article. Still others had even gone so far as to commend the Dementors for finally 'having the scrotes to step up and make the choice.'
"It's about time they did something," said Pansy Parkinson in her harsh, nasally voice as she let porridge fall thickly from her spoon back into her bowl. "Gods, this is disgusting. Those house elves are useless mongs! Anyhow, I knew the dementors would eventually turn against the Ministry. Bound to happen what with it being run by a bunch of pig-ignorant lummoxes…Fudge included."
"Exactly," said a strongly built witch sitting next to Pansy. "My father works in Magical Wildlife Services. He says Fudge's turned into a right old sot since You-Know-Who decided to show himself again two years ago. The dark lord shouldn't have much trouble taking over once Dumbledore's out of the way. And Pothead of course."
"Right you are," said Millicent Bullstrode, her bulldog like face mashed even further into a sneer. "The dark lord's only months away from making his move, I'd say. As for me, I'll be on the side of the most powerful. We all know who that's going to be."
Goyle snickered. " 'Course we do. 'Specially with Mr. Malfoy bein' on his team. What with ickle Potter being the only thing standing in You-Know-Who's way, the victory's already in his ruddy pocket. The runt."
"Goyle, compared with you everyone's a runt." At the mention of his father Draco had stiffened with anger, and he spoke before he thought about how the comment might make him look.
Goyle's small piggy eyes fixed on Draco who sat up straight, eyeing him steadily. Goyle scowled, managing to look stupid and confused all at the same time. "What's the matter with you, then!? You takin' up for Potty Wee Potter now!?"
"No you lard-arsed bloater," bellowed Draco with so much force that blood rushed to his face. "There'll never be any love lost between Scarhead and me. You just need to keep your bloody hole shut about things you don't half understand…all of you."
The Slytherin sitting near them all looked up from their breakfasts, some with shock, and others in anger. Crabbe's jaw actually dropped open, and a half-chewed piece of sausage tumbled out onto the table.
"And who are you to tell us what we do and don't understand, Malfoy…" said Theodore Nott, a thin, sallow faced boy two seats over from him.
"Only the son of Voldemort's frickin' right hand man." Snarled Draco with a fierce glint in his eyes. He looked around at the group that had suddenly hissed in fear at the mention of the dark lord's name with a derisive gaze of anger. He balled his fists until the knuckles turned white and ground them furiously into the table. "I guess you all think it's time to celebrate now, right!? I mean half of our parents here are loyal to him, aren't they!? I'll bet you're all just bloody pissing your pants to join them!"
"Keep your voice down Draco!" yelled Nott furiously as he slammed a fist down on the table. "You want to get them all caught!?"
Malfoy wildly shifted his way. "I suppose you lot think that when he takes over everything's going to be one happy shit-fest, aye? That you'll all be princes and princesses and your parents kings of the world?"
"Well he is the most powerful, isn't he!?" hissed Pansy to Draco. "If we ally with him, then we're sure to get a piece of the action, as well as the victory. It makes sense, doesn't it?!"
Draco half rose from his seat and made a move as if to crawl over the table and beat the hell out of the others until his good sense re-exerted itself.
"I'll tell you what makes sense you great shit-load of idiots," seethed Malfoy shaking with anger as much as with a sense of dread. "The fact is that when Voldemort gets through with your parents, as well as with you, you'll be killed and pitched aside just as soundly as the one's who stood against him. You think he's going to leave a bunch of power-hungry wizards and witches around to try and take him over? You won't be worth a toss to him! NO ONE WILL! Everybloodyone is a means to an end, don't you see that!?"
No one answered him. Part of the Hufflepuff table, which was nearest to them had overheard the conversation and were watching him with their jaws dropped, speechless; mimicking the lack of response he got from his own house.
He calmed himself down and stepped over the bench to stand behind it. The article in the Daily Prophet and the ensuing conversation had left him feeling nauseous and completely out of control of his own life. Lucius fully expected Draco to take the Death Eater's mark the night after his graduation from Hogwarts. He even had a small ceremony planned for him somewhere in a forest clearing, although Draco wasn't sure where. The only thing he was sure of, was that if he were somehow forced to take that mark, he would kill himself.
Oh he had no ambitions to be holy and good like the Gryffindors; to fight the good fight and bleed for the ruddy side of the moral. Like his father, he abhorred all semblance of self-righteousness and the falseness of honor, kindness and bravery. None of those were real. After all, everyone was truly out for themselves; some were just more adept at showing it than others.
He had all of his father's ambition, all of his drive, his pompousness, even his ruthlessness to a point, but the one thing Draco had not inherited from his father was his absolute yearning for power, despite what package it came in. Yes, he would take power from any other source…but never ever from Voldemort. The thought made him want to vomit.
On the outside he remained cool and calculating, and moved away from the Slytherin table as if he were merely finished eating, glaring at the Slytherins who watched him go so they would not think him weak as he made his way towards the exit of the Great Hall. On the inside, his heart was beating a staccato rhythm of dread.
He hadn't banked on the fact that someone had been watching him. That the someone had been watching him for a while, and knew when he was faking it even better than when he did.
Ginny watched his retreating form covertly as she took another bit of her scone, and swore that before he exited the great double doors that led into the hall, he sent a glance her way. She waited a few agonizing moments, and then rose slowly and began to follow him out as nonchalantly as she could. No one from their table had seemed to hear the conversation. Indeed, Ginny hadn't even been able to hear it, but she'd been casting glances Draco's way all during breakfast and could tell he'd been in a heated argument with his housemates. Ron's eyes were on her almost the entire time, but his girlfriend took his attention back at the last moment. Thank Merlin for Lavender Brown.
Ginny dashed out of the double doors and immediately ran towards the great oak double doors that led outside of the school building, pushing them open with a great heave and skipping down the huge cement steps.
As she made out the tall boy far ahead of her, his platinum hair glinting in the sun as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch, she knew that she'd been right. Malfoy always seemed to head toward the Quidditch pitch when he was angry or needed to think, much like Harry; though if he ever heard her say that he might hex her into oblivion.
But unlike Harry, who took his problems to the skies, Malfoy sat on the ground, under the same tree on the outer edge of the pitch that he could always be found under. Well, only by Ginny. She mused that she was probably the only one that knew his secret thinking spot. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction.
She watched him throw himself down on the other side of the trunk and took a few minutes to approach carefully so that he wouldn't think she'd come to spy on him.
Finally she made a small throat-clearing sound and edged her way around the tree to face Malfoy who had swiftly drawn his wand. When he saw Ginny he lowered it slowly, leaning his back against the tree once more.
"What'd you want, Red…spying on me?" he sighed almost resignedly.
Ginny smiled bracingly and sat down opposite him. "Don't flatter yourself. I just saw you leaving the Great Hall earlier than usual from breakfast and thought I'd come see what was going on."
"Aren't you worried about being late for class," said Draco sarcastically, "being a good little Gryffindor and all. You might want to scamper along now."
Ginny made no expressions as to whether his words had affected her at all. "We have about fifteen minutes left."
"Well I suppose you overheard everything," said Draco almost angrily with a raised eyebrow.
Ginny favored him with a small laugh. "You know better than that. Even if I'd wanted to spy on you, which I don't…Slytherin table's too far away from ours to hear anything."
Draco pursed his lips and shifted his position. "Then why…"
"Because you looked angry or upset…or something," said Ginny, a little flustered with herself. "Because...besides the fact that I wanted to tell you about Hogsmeade weekend. It's cancelled, you know, so you don't have to get all dressed up for me."
"I had no intention of it," said Draco lazily as he plucked a grass blade and put it between his lips. "It was only going to be a distraction. I get bored so easily."
Ginny eyed him for a moment before she saw the very small beginnings of a smile crease one corner of his lips. She grinned at him despite herself. "Nice try."
"Thanks," he said with another raised eyebrow.
They sat silently for a few moments before he spoke again.
"You can go, Red. I don't need babysitting."
Ginny smirked at him. "I never thought you did…I thought you might rather need a friend."
Draco looked up sharply at her as if she'd just attempted to play some joke on him. His expression turned sour and he stood up rather briskly. "I don't need any more bloody friends. I've got quite enough to be sick of."
Ginny stood too, though she looked slightly bewildered. "You mean Crabbe and Goyle…Oh yes, they seem the loyal type. I know whenever I need a friend, I usually look for those who can only grunt a response and don't have enough brainpower to understand me, much less give me feedback. Let me commend you. Good choices."
The speech left Draco a little lost for words and instead he ground his teeth together and turned his eyes away from her to stare angrily at some point behind her.
"I don't need you."
Ginny sighed and sat back on the ground Indian-style, staring resolutely at his knees. "I never said you did. But if you want me…my friendship, my ear…I'm here."
She knew how proud he was, knew that he'd never accepted help from anyone before to her knowledge. She just given him the perfect opportunity to laugh in her face and walk away, but as of this moment, she had suddenly become tired of playing games. Without warning she'd just laid it all out in front of him, and it was up to him now to literally take her, or leave her.
For a few moments, she thought he'd decided to walk away. He kept making little movements as if to do so, and then kept coming back around the tree to face her again. His gray eyes were so full to the brimming with his own soul at the moment that they appeared stormy. The emotions crossing his face seemed literally tormented, as if he were waging a great battle in his mind…to reach out, or not to reach out…that was the question.
Finally he sat smoothly down in front of her, his back against the tree once more. He lifted eyes to her that were almost void of the usual cold detachment, and Ginny was so startled that she had to look down to the ground. Here was a side of Draco Malfoy that she'd never seen…vulnerability.
"What do you…" he began almost hoarsely. "I don't…I don't know if I have it in me to give you what you want."
Ginny swallowed harshly and almost giggled to herself. When had their surface, sarcastic conversations suddenly turned into real ones? In some way she'd been able to get to him better than anyone else, and not through anger…through truth. She felt elated. "I don't want anything from you," she smiled genuinely, a move that almost seemed to hurt him, "I just want to help…if I can."
Draco nodded and looked up at her, a little of his old defenses rising in his tone and eyes once again. "I don't know if you can help Red, but if you're that keen on knowing, I'll let you in on some of it."
Ginny wasn't disappointed at all. She'd known it wasn't going to be easy. After all, Rome hadn't been built in a day, and neither had Draco Malfoy. But as he began relaying to her what had been said at the Slytherin table, she realized that they'd gotten off to a miraculous start.