Passions at Hogwarts

psyche752

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 10/05/2003
Last Updated: 25/01/2004
Status: in_progress

A new year and a vicious Draco. What will be the cost of standing up to him? D/G with copious H/Hr thrown in.

Chapters

1. 1

2. 2

3. 3

4. 4

5. 5

6. untitled

7. Chapter 7

1. 1

Title: Passions at Hogwarts.

Rating: G, so far

Author: Psyche752 > animus_dei@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize.

A/N: I don’t usually do these but I thought I’d explain what I’m trying to do with this fic. I’m a strong D/G, H/Hr shipper and for a while I’ve thought about trying to do the two ships in one. This is the result. Because I’m trying to pull together so many characters I’ve chosen to mark out changes in perspective with **. Hopefully (!!) it should be obvious the whose perspective is dominant…Please read and review so I can make the next chapter better and, cause really, it gives me a happy!

**

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. This year was going to be awkward. He looked deeply into the mirror, frowning as a dirty crack marred the purity of his reflection. He followed the seamy line, tracing the rough edge with his finger as it tapered from the upper right hand corner to the lower left. He stared into his own eyes. He stared so hard that he could see himself reflected in the depths.

He didn’t know what he could see.

It had been a fraught summer in the Malfoy household. His father had been away a lot. His mother was frightened, he could see it in her pale eyes whenever she glanced at the clock showing Mr Malfoy’s destination "Unknown". That was nothing, he reflected, compared to the fear he read in her expression when, much worse, the hand slowly ticked across to "Home". When his father had returned, Draco had noticed his face was paler, his eyes darker and his hand swifter to strike.

Draco was sure that if he could just make his father smile, just once, proudly, then everything would be better. If he could be a better Slytherin, a better wizard, a better servant to…But no, his father didn’t trust him. Even though everyone knew that the Dark Lord had risen, Draco had learned this detail from Potter before his father.

Draco’s hands gripped the sides of the ceramic basin, as his body shook with motion of the train. He carefully spat into the plughole, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and, with one last appraising look at himself, pushed his way out of the toilet.

As he slammed the door back, he found himself confronted by a small ginger witch. She stared at him levelly. Draco found her gaze unerring and took great pleasure in pushing her against the wall, pretending the motion of the train had dislodged him. The girl fell awkwardly against the wall, banging her temple. Tears washed her eyes as she stared at him. This time her gaze was easy to read. Hate. Draco looked down at her and breathed it in. This was what he needed. This would make his father proud. He would earn his place at the Malfoy table. He would pay for this honour with as much hate, tears and blood as were necessary.

"Watch yourself, Muggle-lover. You almost touched me" he spat.

Ginny stared up at him, the pain in her head and arm coalescing. A dark rage filled her veins as she levered herself up, bracing her body against the opposing wall.

The walkway plunged into sudden darkness. A sudden pop, a vigorous sway of the carriage, and then the familiar "shud-up-shud-up-shud-up" of the train. Ginny felt her ears pop and the train rushed through the tunnel. The flickering strobe lights did little to illuminate her way, and when daylight rushed back through the window, Draco was gone.

"Next time, Malfoy" she said grimly.

***

Harry sat next to Hermione in the Great Hall. Breakfast had just appeared on their plates but neither could summon up much of an appetite. They watched, mouths open in dismay, as Draco ranted at a poor Slytherin First Year who had dared to sit in the seat he wanted.

"He’s such a bastard" muttered Hermione.

"Hermione!"

"He is" she affirmed mutinously.

"He’s got much worse this term" said Harry "Don’t you think?"

As they watched, Draco grabbed the poor girl by the front of her robes, holding her face inches from his own. Even from across the room, Hogwarts winced in unison as his words subdued her into a painful wince. She whimpered like a caught animal and tried to pull away from him. Crabbe and Goyle were silent either side of their leader, even the rest of the Slytherins had the grace to avert their gaze. The rest of the Hall was stunned.

"That’s it" said Harry grimly. Grabbing his wand in a firm grip, he started to rise from his seat.

"Harry" hissed Hermione, clutching at his robes.

"Hermione" he said warningly. He wasn’t going to hear any lectures on ignoring bullies this time.

"sit inanimus corpus numine deorum. Este" she hissed.

"Hermione!" this time frustrated.

"Obstupefacto" she amended.

He grinned. "Thanks."

**

Draco was in his element. All the rage, passion and dark emotion that swirled around his brain whenever his father was near, bottled up deep within his body, was finding an outlet. It was only his second day back at Hogwarts and already he’d picked more meaningless fights than he could count. This was his first of the day however. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was raw. It was real. It was better than flying. Mid-rant Draco was aware of nothing. He’d even forgotten the meaningless excuse he’d generated to yell at this girl. Nothing mattered but the freedom he felt, the fear he could see, could smell-

Stars, blotches of light swam across his vision. As Draco’s head connected with the wall, his brain registered the words "Obstufacto". A fleshy thud connected with his torso and looking down, Draco saw Goyle slumped across his lap. Shaking his head, he pushed the boy from his body. The passion was rising in him again. Looking about for the source of the spell he saw Potter standing stern across the table. Goyle had absorbed most of the spell – Draco was unconcerned, that’s what he was there for – but he still felt a little lightheaded.

"Back off Malfoy" stated Potter. He looked calm but his voice held the tension of anger repressed.

"Or what Potter?" taunted Draco, feeling a little hysterical. His eyes flashed maniacally. "Or what?" he asked again. Something in his expression caused Potter to take a step back. Draco felt the power of impending victory surge through his soul. "Get out of my sight or I’ll finish off that scar and slice your head in two" he spat.

"Calm down Malfoy" Potter said. The Weasel had come up beside him, wand drawn. "Sit down and eat your breakfast. Leave the kid alone."

Draco opened his mouth to respond but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore amble into the Hall. He shut his mouth. He knew which fights to pick. Sitting down in the dispute seat, he never let his eyes drift from Potter’s.

Dumbledore’s voice, gentle and lilting sang through the air, smoothly dispelling the tension. "Ah, kippers" he exclaimed. "My favourite."

**

Harry went back to the Gryffindor table, shaking slightly.

"Bloody Hell" said Ron, looking pretty flustered himself. "I sleep in on the very morning you choose to do battle with a seriously unhinged Ex-Ferret…!"

Hermione looked at him and raised a pointed eyebrow.

"OK, so I sleep in a lot" Ron conceded. "Still" he grumbled, his eyes flashing humorously "I miss all the fun!"

"Are you alright Harry?" asked Hermione.

"I’m fine." Said Harry quietly. This was the way it was going to be for him this year. Over the summer he’d had a lot of painful time to think about what had happened with Voldemort, the Tri-Wizard Cup and- no, he couldn’t think his name. He knew that, despite Dumbledore’s speech, a lot of students still held him responsible for the death. A lot of Slytherins considered it prime material for verbal assault. But, and he’d come to the conclusion that this was the only way, if he was to move forward, Harry had to take something from those horrible events. He wanted to give meaning to such a noble sacrifice.

When he’d been to visit Ron with Hermione at the end of the holidays, the three of them had discussed this situation with about as much frankness as he could bear. Away from the choking Weasley sympathy, however well meant, tucked away in the garden, they had held court. To his surprise, Harry had found Hermione to be the best listener. Harry knew, with every fibre of his being, that Ron would defend him to the end. Ron could make him laugh and forget his problems. However, when the topics turned to embracing those problems, Ron started to bluster and blush.

"It wasn’t your fault Harry" he’d repeat in a stammering cycle of embarrassment.

Harry knew. Well, he knew deep down. He’d spent a lot of time alone, in silence on Privet Drive. He needed help not comfort.

And here, Hermione, as so often before, had come into her own. She’d listened without flinching and silently offered tissues when his eyes watered and Ron had looked away. She’d changed the subject when a teary Mrs Weasley had begun a rant about "poor Harry". She’d heard him describe the sheer powerlessness he’d experienced at the hands of Voldemort, the residual guilt he felt, and his fear about the future. Then she’d turned to him and said this.

"Harry, this is the fourth time you’ve faced Voldemort, the fourth great showdown between good and evil. The first times you won. This last time you came away alive. You’ve done amazing things Harry. Don’t ever forget it. But don’t ever forget, not for a second, that this isn’t just your fight. Maybe it’s destiny that the showdowns are always between you and Vodemort, I don’t know. But I do know that in-between, now and next term, you’re not alone. We can take tiny steps to a bigger goal. You’ve got a lot power Harry, you are a great wizard. We need to stand up every time that evil threatens. We need to stop the bullies, Slytherin or elsewhere. We need to make sure that Voldemort can’t make friends with the souls of our classmates. We need to stand up for the innocent and the oppressed on whatever scale, and Ron and me will be right with you."

Then she’d blushed prettily because she’d been carried away by the passion and earnestness of her speech.

Harry had blushed with her. He’d blushed because it was hard to hear such open emotion and pride, especially with the Dursley’s as a blueprint. But he’d also been forced to think. And he decided that she was right. That the battle against Voldemort could be a day-by-day way to break down the weakness he was feeling.

And so he’d taken on Draco even though the battle wasn’t his own. Because the battle was his.

He looked down at his breakfast, suddenly ravenous, and caught sight of Ron trying to fit as many kippers as possible in his mouth at one time.

**

Further down the table Ginny Weasley watched her elder brother with an amused mix of contempt and fascination. ‘Boys’ she thought exasperated. Exasperation turned to revulsion in one swift minute as several of the kippers, have chewed, escaped Ron’s jaw and fell to the table.

Ginny turned her attention to her own breakfast and the conversation around her. Nibbling on a piece of toast she listened idly to her friend Elissa babble about the Quidditch matches this year. In the back of her mind she was turning over the dramatic events of this morning. Draco was losing it. Ever since he’d pushed her on the Hogwarts Express she’d kept an especial watch on him. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, or did she. ‘Revenge’ she thought grimly.

"GINNY" Elissa whispered loudly in her ear. "Is there anybody home?"

"What?" she asked, startled. "Oh! Sorry"

"Never mind" said her friend cheerfully "I’m not that interesting!"

"You’re not wrong there" snapped Ginny.

"Woah" said Elissa, holding up both hands defensively. "Quite a sharp tongue you’ve cultivated over the holidays."

When Ginny saw her friend’s ivory complexion mist over with the red tint of embarrassment, she blushed herself.

"I’m really sorry" she amended. "I got out of the wrong side of the bed. I didn’t mean it."

Immediately her friend forgave her, and tucking a short strand of brown hair behind her ears, Elissa smiled mischievously. "So, what were you thinking about that was so important? No, wait, I can guess. You’ve developed a crush on Dumbledore haven’t you?"

Ginny laughed. "Wrong I’m afraid"

"Snape, Filch, Hagrid…" Elissa gasped in mock shock. "It’s not…Professor Sprout… is it?"

Ginny couldn’t smother another giggle as she watched the rotund Professor amble up to the head table. "You caught me" she confessed. "It was love at first sight!"

Sobering up, she decided to share her concerns with her friend. Elissa was one of the few Gryffindor girls who didn’t treat Ginny with a certain air of suspicion. The Tom Riddle incident had left her few ready allies. Admittedly, she conceded fondly, Elissa couldn’t bear a grudge if she tried. Nothing stayed in her excitable head for more than two minutes.

"What do you think about Draco?" she asked casually.

Her friend thought for a few seconds, while chewing on a mouthful of bread. "I don’t know" she said eventually.

"Radical" Ginny commented dryly.

"Hang on. I think he’s getting more dangerous by the day. I’m very grateful that Harry’s got the nerve to stand up to him. He caught me once you know."

"He what?"

Elissa turned serious. "He caught up to me once, outside, near the Quidditch pitch. I don’t know whether I ever mentioned this to you but, well, my brother’s in Azkaban" she said, lowering her voice for his shameful secret. "I don’t know how he knew but he said some horrible things."

Ginny’s blood began to boil at the obvious hurt on her friend’s face.

"Mind you" continued Elissa "none of the other Slytherins have mentioned it to me. I can’t imagine why unless he hadn’t told them…"

Ginny’s expression was set. She wasn’t prepared to treat this as a concession. Draco had gone far enough. She’d suffered the taunts to herself, her brothers and now her friends. Her sharpened tongue was ready for it’s first target. Come what may.

2. 2

Disclaimer: Own no more than last time, well except I think my bank balance may have about 1p interest!! Woo woo. Don’t sue me for it.

**

Draco stalked down the halls of Hogwarts towards the Slytherin Common Room. He had left breakfast early, unable to bear the repression of the Great Hall. His robes billowed out behind and, unbeknownst to him, he created the very picture of menace and terror. He kept his arms casually by his side as he walked – this was the upright stride of a Malfoy. He got to the portrait and merely levelled a gaze at the guardian. Without need of a password the entrance swung open. Draco smiled and stepped through.

Walking through the deserted Common Room – all the Slytherins were still at breakfast - he made his way to his own quarters. Behind the thick oak of the Hogwarts door, Draco had ordered the house elves to assemble a curtain rail, from which thick crimson drapes hung to the floor. Bringing together his hands he threw his arms wide, opening the curtains in a fashion he’d witnessed his father use for as long as he could remember. He walked immediately up to a heavy gilded mirror that hung opposite his (four-poster) bed. Not for the first time Draco relished the joy of a private room. This term he had managed to bully the house elves into assigning him these quarters. He didn’t know whether Dumbledore was aware of this. He didn’t care.

Once again Draco pored over his features in the mirror. The old glass was softened and his image was blurred slightly in reflection. He reached out a hand to trace his features. The Malfoy nose and chin that he shared with his father. He blinked once. The eyes of his mother. He watched himself with these eyes, staring deep into his own pupils until the image wavered beyond recognition. Pulling back his fist he slammed it into the wall. The cracks formed joined others and small flakes of plaster floated to the floor.

Potter. He ruined everything. Everything. Draco could feel the overwhelming tides of anger wash up and down his body. This was his world. The resemblance to his father began a crushing sense of inadequacy that prompted unpleasant questions about his own sense of identity. The only way to exorcise this anger was through pain, the pain of others. When that pain was gone, there was an emptiness that prompted introspection. Introspection led him to the spectacle of his father and the rage began anew. Draco was tired of this vicious cycle but he knew no other way. He would keep feeding his soul with the bile of darkest anger until he knew nothing more. When Draco was blotted out to become a Malfoy, when the Youngest Malfoy could join his kin at the side of Dark Lord, then the pain and frustration would end. One way or another.

With a final glance in the mirror, Draco assured himself that he had worked up sufficient frenzy and left the room. He made his way back to the weaving spread of corridors, relentless seeking new prey like a ravening wolf in a sheep pen. He could feel the bile begin its acrid tang at the back of this throat and once again a grim smile spread across his aristocratic features.

**

Ginny Weasley had finished her breakfast and was walking, with an armload of books, towards the library. She had prolonged her meal, though not hungry, in desperately reassuring Elissa that her brother’s secret was safe. Elissa had refused to elaborate on the details of his imprisonment but Ginny could only assume the worst. Now, wary of falling behind, she had left the rest of Gryffindors at breakfast and was ready to start her day in the library.

As she approached the main hallway of the school, she found the wandering stairway to the library. Wary of it changing direction, she kept her eyes fixed on the target and hurried towards the base. Wrong move. Her path was suddenly obstructed by what felt like a wall of metal. Wrong-footed she fell, scattering papers across the hall.

"What the…" she fumed, raising her gaze from the floor.

Her eyes met Draco’s raging expression and, despite all her vows to be strong, she gulped in fear.

"Little Weasel I’ve had just about enough contact with your muggle-loving filth as can be tolerated. Even at my feet where you belong I find you nauseating."

Ginny stared at him, watching his mouth twist in pleasure at the words. This enjoyment gave her strength she’d never known before.

"Shut your face Daddy’s Boy!" she spat.

Instantly she knew she’d touched a nerve. His face turned whiter than snow and his eyes darkened with an incalculable rage.

"What did you say?" he asked in a low silky voice.

"I told you to keep your comments to yourself…Daddy’s Boy" Ginny was in too deep to back down now.

Draco suddenly took two steps towards her and grabbed her by the collar of her robe. He pulled her towards him, lifting her onto her toes, watching the discomfort flush her face.

"You’re a little maggot in a big ocean Weasley. I can crush you." This whispered statement terrified her. "Come with me"

This wasn’t a request. Ginny felt herself dragged up the stairs and pushed unceremoniously into the deserted library. Fear deadened her limbs and although she opened her mouth to speak, her lips were too dry to form words. She felt her back thud into contact with a wall of books, a sharp edge cutting painfully across her spine. Draco leaned towards her, overpowering her tiny form with his strong body. He casually leaned his right forearm across her throat, his left hand across her mouth.

"Now Weasley, I am going to talk and you are going to listen."

**

Draco relished the coursing adrenaline pumping rapidly through his veins. He could feel his temples throbbing with the syncopated rhythm of his heart. The little muggle-lover was whimpering a little in fear, and he savoured the sight and smell of her pain.

He pushed against her a little harder, piecing together an attack from which neither she nor her filthy family would be able to recover.

"I never want to see your pasty little face around these corridors again. I never want to see your brother’s ugly ginger mug in my school. The two of you are going to pack up and leave this place or…"

He couldn’t finish the sentence because he found himself flung back.

**

Ginny was running on a high. Her blood pumped powerfully through her veins, her arms and legs tingled and she felt light-headed. The white-hot rage that coursed through her had imbued her with an almost superhuman strength. Pushing off from the wall with all her might she had managed to dislodge the arrogant git while he relished his vicious speech.

Seeing him sprawled across the floor before her, she felt powerful. She saw indecision, uncertainty and a little fear cross those grey eyes. She saw Draco reduced to a boy before her.

Withdrawing her wand she pointed it toward him, ready to finish the job…

**

Draco tried to pull together his wits and the tattered pieces of his dignity. Pulling himself up by the corner of a table, he watched as the Weasel withdrew her wand from inside her cloak.

Defensively he began to do the same.

**

Without need of a spell Ginny felt the rage in her body channel through her wand and spew from its tip like a cascade of brightest fireworks.

**

Draco watched his wand explode in a torrent of red sparkles. They arched their way across the room to counter the spell of the little redhead.

**

The spells met in mid air and with a deafening explosion of pure white energy, little fireball droplets began to shot off at tangents around the library. The tattered volumes acted like dry tinder and fires soon raged in various corners of the room. The force of impact knocked over the towering shelves, causing a domino cascade around the edges of the room. As the walls surrounding them began to collapse, Ginny looked up fearfully and watched her death descend. A hand grabbed her upper arm, painfully and dragged her underneath an old pine desk. The drumming and din sounded like a raging thunderstorm and Ginny closed her eyes.

**

"Look out!" screamed Harry, tugging Hermione into a corner of the room. Of all the mornings to start work early! His head banged into the wall and pain seared his vision. He saw flames licking at the carpet nearby but couldn’t muster the energy to shout.

**

Fade to black. Nothing.

**

Please review.

3. 3

Disclaimer: Still none of it is mine…

**

Hermione groggily opened her eyes. Trying to lift her head from the floor, she winced as a dart of pain shot through her skull. Deciding not to move for the time being (or forever, whispered her battered cranium) she opened her eyes wider to look around. She couldn’t really see anything clearly and for a moment she panicked that she’d lost her vision entirely. A tentatively deep breath sent cloying smoke to the back of her throat and she coughed. The retch caused her to lift her head and bands of tight pain across her forehead rebuked her. Reassured that smoke not blindness impeded her sight, Hermione sighed once slowly, trying to breathe as little as possible.

What on earth had happened? She remembered bizarre details; she’d chosen to wear tights that morning instead of socks, she’d had mushrooms and toast for breakfast. The thought of food sent another convulsive spasm through her system and she rolled onto her side feeling as though she was going to be sick.

Harry lay motionless in front of her, his eyes closed and a heavy trickle of blood coming from the side of his mouth. Harry. Of course. They’d come up here early that morning to start work for the term – OWLS were getting close. Harry hadn’t wanted to come, she remembered, and warm tears touched the back of her eyes. Blinking them back, she took a steadying breath before whispering "Harry". The sound that came out was hoarse and broken. Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat was full of dry dust. Sweet Merlin, why wouldn’t he answer?

"HARRY" she whispered again, desperation forcing the sound louder.

In response to the ragged noise, he seemed to twitch slightly.

Hermione tried to move closer to him, so that she could check his pulse, wake him somehow. She rolled awkwardly onto her stomach, her gown getting twisted beneath her and impeding her progress. Even this gentle movement sent a cloud of dust into he air. Hermione coughed again, feeling her head seem to swell with pain. Rough splinters and rubble tore at her arms and bruised her hands as she tried to crawl forwards. Biting on her lip so hard she could taste blood she focused only on Harry, only on getting to him, being with him. The rest could wait.

**

Draco was fuming. Not only had the little Weasel brought the whole library down on top of them, he’d managed to get stuck in a tiny place with her as well. The noises had stopped, though a large piece of bookcase blocked their way out from under the table. The ginger idiot was out cold and he was feeling a little light-headed himself. Scooting forward a little, he tentatively pushed at the barrier in front of him.

It tottered briefly and then fell forwards. Draco cautiously poked his head out from under the table. It was worse than he had feared. It seemed as though beams from the roof had collapsed under the pressure of her spell as well. She’d literally collapsed the walls around them. Draco crawled out into a small space, not large enough for him to stand, blocked in every direction by smouldering timber, piles of books and shattered bookcases. The space was dark, illuminated only faintly by chinks of flickering light.

"Marvellous" muttered Draco.

He reached inside his gown, remarkably still in one piece save for a single nasty tear, for his wand. Nothing. He groped again desperately. This wasn’t happening. His wand was missing. He supposed that in his desperate dive for cover, dragging that little fool with him, he’d managed to dislodge it.

Now he was faced with a choice. Would he rather sit here in the dark, or wake the Weasel to get her wand. Despite strong compulsion drawing him towards the first option, Draco decided that magic was really their best hope of assessing the situation.

Resigned, he reversed his path, smacking the back of his head sharply on the roof of the desk. Swearing softly he poked the girl in her hip with his finger. She didn’t move.

"Weasel" he called. "Wake up."

Still she didn’t move and with the flutterings of mild panic, he pulled her over towards him. Her head lolled limply into his lap and he saw, horrified, a deep cut along the side of her head. Terror started to course through him. Draco had never been confronted with the evidence of pain before. He pushed people and they bruised, sometimes he suspected they bled, but he was always far away from the results. He’d made people cry but never anything like this. Uneasy guilt started to gnaw at him even as he wondered whether she was alive. Blood was congealing in a sticky mess and when he placed tentative fingers to her pulse, they were dripping with her blood.

He couldn’t find a pulse. He knew roughly where it should be, but he hadn’t really got the faintest idea what he was doing. Smoky panic tore through him at the unaccustomed responsibility of his position. What was he meant to do, alone without his wand or his father’s guidance.

Gently he slapped her cheek. "Weasel."

"Weasel" Again, louder.

"Ginny" he said desperately and to his relief, her eyelids fluttered.

**

Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Pain and tears made her vision hazy. She could piece together odd sensations. Her head was throbbing across the right side but was pillowed on something soft. Something sharp was digging into her ankle.

Blinking slowly she looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Immediately the context to her situation rushed back and, revulsed, she jerked herself away from him.

Thrashing desperately she knocked her still-bleeding head against something hard and couldn’t hold in a cry of agony. Hurt and alone, the adrenaline was starting to make her dizzy.

"What did you do?" she sobbed openly, clawing a hand to her head.

"I saved your life you little bitch" he retorted. "Stay still or you’ll pass out again. Have you got your wand?"

Too dazed to do anything but comply, Ginny felt inside her robes but found nothing.

"It was…was, with my b-b-books" she cried quietly.

"Well your b-b-books aren’t here Weasel, and now we’re totally screwed" said Malfoy bitterly.

Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed desperately into the folds of her gown. Her head felt as though it had been torn open. She didn’t have her wand or her brothers and she was stuck with Malfoy, who’d been so despicable to her before the accident.

"Stop crying Weasel" he said impatiently.

"Shut UP Malfoy" she raged, raising her head and glaring at him. "Proud of yourself are you? Glad to finish what Daddy started three years ago? Happy to see me cry?"

"I AM NOT MY FATHER" shouted Malfoy so loud that her ears hurt.

"No" she cried softly "You’re even worse".

**

Hermione grasped Harry’s shoulder and shook it desperately. Scalding tears were cascading down her cheeks and she was finding it hard to breathe.

"Harry, please wake up" she sobbed. "I need to you to wake up."

Her sobs were getting more high pitched, more hysterical. A black fog of irrationality was descending over her usually clear brain.

"Wake up…wake up…wake up!" she raged, shaking his shoulders.

She collapsed over his chest, her body heaving with sobs, tears soaking his gown. She couldn’t do this without him. She didn’t want to do anything without him. She loved him. With a fresh shudder of raw grief, Hermione acknowledged this simple truth. She loved him.

Her sobs slowed, nothing but Harry in her thoughts, and weak and crazy with pain, she whispered "I love you" and then slumped, unconscious, over him.

**

Draco felt the familiar wash of red hot anger pulse through him. It felt good. It energized him. It made him feel alive and in control. This feeling only lasted for a moment. All the anger seemed to flush out of him with his yell. Bewildered, he shook his head slightly. What was happening? This wasn’t the way it worked. She insulted him, he insulted her…that was the pattern. Why couldn’t he spit out a retort?

Something inside him was dampening down his rage. Part, he acknowledged uneasily, was the fact that she was as white as a sheet, white with pain instead of fear. More than this, Draco was…he was hurt. Somehow she’d managed to cut him deeply. "You’re just another Malfoy" she’d implied. She’d compared him to his father. Heedless of her curious stare, he looked blankly back at her. What was wrong with him? It was all he’d ever wanted! He was going to be just like his father, a Deatheater, a servant to Lord Voldemort. He would have power and respect.

Curse the sickening little Weasel. She had made clear to him, in one shaky moment, that while he had fear neither he, nor his father, had respect. She’d whispered the words he’s wanted to hear, but they’d left him empty. Small words had torn down his lofty dreams and stomped on his future. Was this the goal of his life? All he’d been looking for? This beaten little witch had refused to bow to him. Even now.

Images of his father flooded his brain. His father yelling at his cowering mother. His father kicking their house-elf down the stairs. His father slapping him and telling him he was a disgrace to the Malfoy name. His father, the bully. Then, other images that he’d imagined from descriptions. His father on bent knee before Lord Voldemort. His father helping to kill Cedric. His father, the coward.

Wildly, he looked about him. Panic was rising up in him again. He needed to get out. The walls were closing in on him. His lungs started to close up and desperately he took small shallow gasps. He gulped down dusty air and choked. Coughing and spluttering he turned to face the wall, one palm splayed against its solidity. He wished he could just lie down and die…

**

Ginny watched Malfoy with a certain detached confusion. What, in the name of Merlin, was going on in his over-oiled little head. Why wasn’t he screaming back at her? More importantly…how were they going to get themselves out of this mess?!

**

Please review if you liked it/didn’t.

4. 4

Disclaimer: JK owns everything.

**

Ginny watched Malfoy turn as white as chalk and his complexion turn sweaty and pasty. What was going on? Was he ill?

"Are you ill?" she said contemptuously.

"Shut up Weasley" he bit back.

"Alright Daddy’s boy, have it your way" she said, stung.

Before she could even blink, his hands were clutching at the neckline of her robes. Peering down she could see that his knuckles were white with strain.

"DON’T call me that" he seethed.

"Daddy’s boy?" she asked, stubbornly.

He pulled her robes tighter, tilting her head back. She got a sudden panicked glimpse of his superior strength. They were trapped in here together. He could do anything to her and claim it was an accident. She swallowed hard, awkwardly, forcing the saliva through her constricted throat. Her gaze burned into his.

**

The little Weasel was afraid of him. This time the flickering fear in her eyes sickened him. A gut-wrenching nausea seared through him as he looked deep into her eyes and saw himself reflected in the teary depths. He looked like his father. She was cowering for his mother, that morning’s Slytherin girl and every other victim of Malfoy rage.

Defeated, he let go of her robes and pushed her away from him.

"Just keep your mouth shut Weasel and we might both survive this thing."

She was still afraid, he could see, but there was also anger mixing with the fear. The little bitch didn’t know when to shut up.

"What’s the matter Malfoy? You can give it out but you can’t take it?" she said, her chin tilted defiantly. "You can say whatever you want but you hate it when your ‘victims’ answer back? Well guess what Draco? You’re on your own and so am I; this is between you and me. There’s no Goyle, Crabbe, Snape or Daddy to stick up for you."

He’d tried to leave it alone. He really had. But he couldn’t keep listening to these taunts. He had some pride left. Turning to her, he grabbed both wrists and pushed her over onto her back. Straddling her waist, he pinned her arms to the floor and held down her legs with his feet.

"Don’t you get it Weasel? You’re the weak one here. Potter and his sidekick aren’t here to save you. Now when I tell you to shut up, you had better just SHUT UP."

**

Despite the fact that she was pinned to the floor, despite the fact that Malfoy was confirming every fearful thought that had flitted through her brain since they’d been trapped, Ginny was feeling powerful. She’d seen him unhinged before, but that was controlled in a perverse way. This time he was really losing it. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were glistening. She’d touched a nerve and this, this Draco, was what she had hoped for from revenge. Making him lose it. Pushing him to the edge and watching him fall over. Making him pay for all the times he’d humiliated her and laughed at her and hurt her. More than that, for all the times he’d hurt her family and friends.

Quite by accident it seemed that she’d found Malfoy’s Achilles heel. She wasn’t going to surrender that power easily.

"No." she said, without struggling "You don’t get it Malfoy." She loaded his name with contempt. "Daddy’s little precious can’t stop me. You can hit me, hex me, laugh at me but you can’t stop me. You can’t stop me unless you want to kill me and end this right here. Is that what you want? To cross over those final steps and truly become the Lucius clone you’ve always pretended to be." Her level gaze met his, unwavering.

**

No, he couldn’t kill her. The visions of his father had killed all instinct to extreme violence left in him. The idea of ending someone’s life so arbitrarily sickened him. He wanted power yes, but not that way. With a jarring bolt of clarity he found images flashing across his memory. Potter, the Mudblood, and the Weasel eating and laughing together. Potter being cheered at Quidditch. That’s what he wanted. He wanted respect. Jealousy and his Malfoy heritage had driven him to persecute most fiercely that which he wanted to be.

The little Weasley was starting again. ‘Damn her perception’ he cursed. Clearly she’d seen what talk of his father could do to him. He didn’t want to be pushed into something he would regret. But she seemed intent on pushing him.

Desperate to shut her up he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers firmly. The gesture was neither aggressive nor affectionate. It was a practical way to close her mouth with their limbs engaged elsewhere. He swallowed her opening words but then shock silenced her mouth against his. For that blissful moment, Draco noticed that her lips were soft beneath his, that the soft skin of her face caressed his.

Then she started screaming and cursing, and he pulled back, shocked himself.

**

What the hell was going on? Ginny had been getting into her flow, watching Malfoy teeter on the edge of his control. Then suddenly he was kissing her. No, not kissing her, merely shutting her up. His lips had not moved against hers, nor had they hurt…it was a simple, direct show of masculine strength. She didn’t let herself linger on the pleasant smell of his aftershave or the gentleness of his mouth. It was just another way to overpower her she thought furiously.

He was looking down at her, still holding her beneath him, staring with the same confusion she knew was mirrored in her own eyes.

Two can play at this game, she thought grimly. Shaking lose one of his hands – the grip had loosened considerably – she slid her own hand around his neck and pulled him down towards her. Pulling herself up from the floor, she met him mid-way. Her kiss wasn’t dispassionate. Far from it. She knew that she didn’t have the brute strength to rival Draco, but she could use power a different way. His mouth met hers, abruptly as their faces met, but surprise stopped him from pulling away. He was resistant at first, clearly bewildered. She opened her mouth slightly, gently pulling at his lips. She’d seen this described in Witch Weekly a thousand times and she felt confident she was doing it right. This was confirmed when, as she slowly licked across Draco’s bottom lip, he moaned into her mouth.

**

Draco was suffused with feeling. Desire, red hot and throbbing, coursed through him. He was totally lost in the flow of its searing path. Passion, a fiery sensation on the same frequency as rage, took over his body. It was familiar but at the same time so different. He was losing control again, feeling power and strength flood through his limbs, but this was definitely not anger.

She was scattering little butterfly kisses across his mouth. Her lips, moist and swollen, were pressed against his. He forgot who she was, who he was, everything but these feelings. Sliding his hands up her back, he traced the delicate indentation of her spine, before tangling his hands in the hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled her against him more firmly, feeling her torso press into his. He tilted her head against his, sliding his tongue slowly into her mouth.

**

Ginny was being overwhelmed. She felt herself covered and held by Draco, her little body pressed snugly against his firm chest. What had begun as a rebuke, a lesson in power, was swiftly becoming much more. She tried to remind herself that he was an enemy, that this wasn’t real, but the feel of Draco against her, kissing her, knocked coherent thought from her head.

His tongue slid into her mouth and she kissed him back, moulding herself around him. She slid her other hand up his torso and around his back. She had never felt so out of control.

**

Pleasure was all Draco could remember. Pleasure and softness. He didn’t want this to stop and he kissed her like the world was ending. Which, he would reflect later, it almost was for him.

**

She didn’t want to ever stop touching him. She didn’t want to face the real world again. Draco could stop her thinking, stop her fearing, and that was all she needed.

**

He slid his hands further into her hair, knotting the long strands around his fingers as he pulled her against him. Then suddenly she jerked away.

**

Ginny pulled away in pain, as Draco slid his hands against the gash in her head. Pain, clarifying pain, shot through her and she broke their embrace.

Falling onto her back, she stared up at him. What the hell had they done?

**

Draco watched pain cloud her face and, as he realized his error, guilt tore through him. He lowered his hands from her shoulders and pulled away, repulsed by the sight of her blood across his fingers. What spell had she cast upon him?

**

Ginny scrambled out from underneath him and tucked herself in a corner of their hole with her knees pulled up to her chest. She had just kissed Draco Malfoy. She had liked it.

**

Draco watched her skitter away from him, and in that instant felt lonelier than he could ever remember. The juxtaposed memories of her passionate and fearful gazes made him hate himself. He pulled away, never taking his eyes from her, and moved to the opposite corner.

**

In another part of the library, Harry gradually came back to consciousness. He registered the pain in his right leg, bruising across his body and, with a resigned sigh, he realized that his glasses were smashed. Blinking repeatedly to clear his vision, he noticed a huddled figure across his chest. Tracing the brown curls he saw Hermione’s pale, blood-stained face, and gasped in terror.

**

Another chapter done, a little more D/G progress made! Please review if you liked it, or even if you didn’t!

5. 5

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK!

**

"Hermione" whispered Harry thickly.

He tried to lift his head so that he could see her more clearly but the movement sent stabbing raw pain across his shoulder blades. He lay his head down against the floor in defeat.

"Wake up Hermione" he whispered, snaking one hand into the curls spread across his chest.

Suddenly her head moved, she was lifting her head, she was alive, she was kissing him…

**

"Harry Potter, don’t ever scare me like that again" she gasped and pressed her lips to his. He was alive! Joy surged through her at the simple sound of his voice calling her name. She would never take that for granted again. That’s what she had been doing, she recognized ruefully, even as she bent her head to kiss him. She had been taking him for granted. Over the summer so much had changed. Harry had changed. He’d grown up. She’d grown with him, closer to him, and this had been in her mind all along.

So when she heard his voice, believed that he was not lost to her, she had lost it.

She clasped her hands to the side of his head, desperate to prove to herself that this was not a dream.

And, Sweet Merlin, he was kissing her back.

His hands were around her waist, his mouth insistent on hers. His tongue pressed gently against her mouth and she parted her lips. She could feel herself beginning to merge with him, a hot current joining them wherever she could feel his body pressed against his.

Gradually the kiss came to an end, and immediately she wanted it back. But rationality was beginning to seep back into her brain where previously there had only been Harry. Just him. But now she could feel the sharp edges of his glasses pressing into her face. She pulled back as shame flushed through her.

"Blame it on the concussion" she said hastily.

**

Harry looked up at her in shock. Hermione had just kissed him. Other details began to nag at his brain but he pushed them aside and concentrated solely on this. Hermione had kissed him.

‘You kissed her back’ whispered an irritating internal voice.

The truth was that, for the first time in five years, Harry had been forced to contemplate a life without her. When he’d awoken to see her sprawled across him, fear had run through him like a cold chill. To see her alive again had sent every coherent thought out of his mind. If she hadn’t kissed him first, he knew with absolute certainty that he would have kissed her instead.

He looked up at her blushing face. She was embarrassed. He wasn’t.

"Hermione" he said gently. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her own hands, which she was clenching in her lap, having withdrawn from his body. "Look at me." He tried to sit up, to make eye contact with her, and in that instant became aware of his right leg being caught between two shelves. The sensation was mildly painful, but largely he felt numb. Hermione, alerted by his discomfort, looked up.

"Oh Harry" she gasped. "Does it hurt?"

"I’m fine" he winced, irritated that this small matter was interfering with his speech.

"Harry!" she rebuked. "You are not fine!"

"No seriously" he said, casually wiggling his leg "it’s- ah, fine. Now, about what just happened…"

"Harry this looks serious. I need to you to hold still while I look at your leg. Do you have your wand?"

**

Hermione busied herself with Harry’s injuries which both took her mind off the pain across her head and the embarrassment at what had just occurred.

She slid one hand down his leg, and he jumped. She could see that his leg was caught at an awkward angle against fallen debris. She was afraid to try and move it in case she caused the balance to tip further weight onto his limb.

"Harry?" she asked, without taking her gaze from the predicament. "Do you have your wand, mine must have got lost somewhere…Harry?" She looked up at him when he didn’t reply. His gaze was fixed to her hand, where it rested lightly against his thigh.

"Harry!" she said, moving her hand away. "Wand?"

**

Harry briefly considered making a somewhat dirty joke, but then decided she wouldn’t be best impressed. Besides that, the pain in his ankle was starting to break through the cotton wool numbness of before. He could almost feel the blood surging around his leg, and every pumped heartbeat produced a stab of pain in his ankle.

He traced his belt line and found nothing.

"I left it on the table" he said, frustrated.

"Ok" said Hermione, taking this in her stride. "Then we need to get help as soon as possible, because I can’t move this ankle without magic."

Her face looked pale, Harry thought, and there was a trickle of blood running down the side of her face. She still looked beautiful. He couldn’t believe that all his feelings and pre-conceptions were changing so rapidly. It was like he was trapped here with a suddenly different Hermione. When this girl touched him he felt tremors of electricity.

He looked around him, suddenly mildly uncomfortable with the change in himself. His own feelings scared him slightly. He thought that he could smell smoke, and the air around them was certainly thick with dust.

"What do you think happened?" he asked Hermione.

"I don’t know" she said fearfully. "Everything just started toppling around us." Her face grew even whiter.

"Harry, can you smell smoke?" she asked quietly.

"Yes" he affirmed, taking in the sudden danger of their situation. "Can you see a way out?" he questioned, levering himself painfully and awkwardly onto both elbows.

Hermione crawled around the small pen in which they were trapped. "I don’t think so Harry" she said. "There are small gaps in the rubble, but nothing big enough to get through."

"Hermione" said Harry, his heart starting to beat faster. "You need to make a hole big enough to escape, wait" he said as she opened her mouth to argue "and then you can go and find help. Hermione? Do you understand?"

She crawled back over to kneel beside him. "I am not leaving" she said stubbornly, coughing a little as she stirred up more dust.

"Hermione!"

"No."

**

Harry was trapped. She could smell smoke and their small space seemed to be getting stuffier and warmer. Casting her mind back over the morning, Hermione could vaguely remember flashes of light sparking overhead before the ceiling had begun to fall. Flashes of light…or fire.

"I’m not going to let you martyr yourself Harry Potter" she said firmly, " We’re both getting out of here." Or neither of us are, she added silently.

She settled herself down, cross-legged by his head, and devoted herself to finding a way out of their situation. She wouldn’t lose him. She couldn’t.

**

"What the hell was that Malfoy?" asked Ginny.

"Leave it Weasel, lets concentrate on getting out of here"

"I said, what the hell was that?" she repeated more emphatically.

"I don’t want to fight with you right now" said Malfoy firmly, enraging her.

"Maybe I want to fight" she spat angrily.

"You want to fight Weasel?" he asked silkily, "felt like you wanted more than that…"

"In your dreams Malfoy?"

"Am I in yours?" he asked quickly.

Ginny felt completely wrong-footed. Their jibes at one another had never been sexual. She’d seen Malfoy do his sex-god routine with other girls, but never with her. He was relaxed, she noticed, fuming. He did this all the time. She never flirted, was never aggressive with boys. She liked them quiet, simple and brave, didn’t she?

"I hope you’re more adequate in real life than you are in my dreams" she raged.

Silence.

What had she said!? Had she just admitted to fantasizing about him? It was meant to be an insult, for Merlin’s sake!

He was grinning. Damn him.

"Dreaming about little old me Weasley?" he smirked.

**

His heart was beating a little faster. Why? He’d been here before. The little Weasley was taking him over very familiar territory. Girls tried to out-manoeuvre him all the time. Some of them, especially the Slytherin girls, thought that they won when he gave them the time of day. Fools. But all of them were more sophisticated than this gauche little spitfire.

Her face blushed red, and she started to stammer a reply. The stain across her cheeks contrasted dramatically with the whiteness of her pallor and Draco was shocked.

"Never mind Weasley" he said "We’ve got more important things to think about than your crush. We need to get out of here."

Her face was getting even redder.

"A crush?" she yelled. "I would never- …I couldn’t- …I would rather- …Screw you Malfoy" she said

"You would rather screw me Weasel?" he asked lightly, trying not to think about the prospect himself.

**

Ginny was finding it difficult to think clearly. Damn Draco and his oh-so-worldly experience. She was rapidly losing any upper hand she may have managed to accrue with their kiss. It was so frustrating she wanted to scream. She was never going to win on the defence, she decided ruefully.

"You seemed quite happy yourself" she retorted finally. "Horrible as this experience has been, I now have something to tell the girls in the dormitory about men who brag about their equipment because they’re insecure…We’ve often wondered."

That wiped the smirk off his face.

"Don’t talk about what you don’t understand little girl" he snarled.

"Touched a nerve?" she asked innocently, enjoying his expression.

"Look" he said, kneading his temples with one hand, "I’m having a very bad day, you’re making it worse. Just please be quiet while I find a way to get out of your mess."

"You think you’re a god don’t you?" asked Ginny, amused. "Why don’t you ask me for my help?"

"I don’t need help from the likes of you" he sneered. "If I’d known you would be this much trouble I would have left you to die out there."

That was it. Ginny was dumfounded. Now, when she looked back, her fuzzy memory of the accident did include a firm grip on her arm. Draco had saved her life. He seemed to be realizing this fact too and the silence was pronounced between them. With his angry statement, and the truth of her debt, Ginny felt all her irritation with Malfoy leave her. She owed him. The silence was stretching out indefinitely and the atmosphere was awkward.

"I-I-I…I guess I should thank you" she said, shakily.

"Don’t" said Malfoy curtly.

"You saved my life" said Ginny wonderingly. "Why?"

"I don’t know" he said edgily, and she could see he was uncomfortable.

"Why do you do it Malfoy?" she asked "Why do you act like such an asshole all the time?"

**

What could he say to that? He didn’t know why he had saved her. It was just instinct. It was an instinct that he knew, deep in his gut, that he had not inherited from his father. And, the circle was complete. Draco was once more comparing himself to his father.

The little Weasley was still looking at him. Her deep brown eyes were focused unwaveringly upon his. In that instant of her attention, he felt a strange desire to pour out his heart. To tell her that just because he acted like an asshole, didn’t mean that he was; to explain about his father and his heritage; to make her understand.

She wouldn’t of course. No one could. But in the pure simplicity of her eyes, he could see everything he’d ever wanted. Someone to believe in him.

"I guess I’m an asshole" he mumbled. "But you’re a Weasel, so don’t get any ideas!"

"You’re doing it again" she laughed.

"What" he said defensively.

"Insulting me when I’m getting close to figuring you out Malfoy"

"You’ll never understand me" he said confidently.

"Why don’t you try me?" she said simply. "Its not like we’re going anywhere."

**

Please review if you’ve read this far. Thanks.

6. untitled

All to JK

**

Draco paused for a moment and, heedless of surroundings or station for perhaps the first true time in his life, he simply stared at the girl before him, pondering her question.

An asshole?

Yes, that didn’t concern him. He’d been through that a thousand times before. He was an asshole and he was good at it.

No, instead she had asked "Why do you act like an asshole?". She had implied, subconsciously or not, that his behaviour was an act. That at his core he might be something more. That there was a Draco separate from the persona she loathed and what was more, a Draco, by the way she was staring, that she wanted to know very much indeed. Could he find such a person? Could he be such a man?

Ginny cleared her throat and Draco was suddenly once again resident in the real world. Back in the library, amidst the debris, where the most pressing question should be escape, Draco allowed himself a wry smile at the loftiness and grandeur of his posteuring. At his core, the biting self-awareness that generated fathomless reserves of cruelty recognized that any such "noble Draco" would be as fictitious as "asshole Draco". He was a hopeless cause. He’d always known it.

Ginny was still looking at him patiently, apparantly still hoping for a response.

He shook his head and exhaled slowly.

"Ginny I am an asshole, there’s no act. I’m a Malfoy and you’re a Weasley. Lets forget all this rubbish and remember that we’re enemies alright? I’m tired of playing nice. Lets just focus on getting out of here."

"Shut the hell up you pompous arrogant son of a niffler" she burst out, with not a little humour. "Don’t give me all that rubbish."

"What makes you think you could ever understand me? What gives you the right to the expose?" snarled Draco, irked at her attitude which showed ominous signs of familiarity, of lack of fear.

"Because I’m here" she said firmly "and, more noteworthy, I’ve been here for more than ten minutes which makes me officially your closest friend at Hogwarts!"

**

Ouch. It seemed that one had touched another nerve. This nerve however, was not one which triggered an angry response. Instead, Draco seemed to deflate slightly in front of her, shrinking, his head dropping slightly, his pose dejected. It was a response that made Ginny’s heart hurt to look at him.

"I didn’t mean that" she said hurriedly.

Draco looked up and his eyes met hers. "Yes you did" he said quietly " and you were right."

Ginny held her breath, too scared even to move lest she interrupt.

"Weasley I’ve lived in a world you can’t imagine. My father…" Draco broke off. "You’ve never had to live in a world where you are constantly trying to live up to something you can never achieve. Be constantly striving to improve and yet be knocked back every time. To-"

Ginny interrupted this monologue before he could get too far with a short incredulous laugh.

"Are you kidding?"

Draco looked angry she had interrupted, as though she were about to mock his confession.

"No, no" she hastened to continue "It’s just…that’s MY life!". She shrugged her shoulders wryly.

Draco was looking at her bewildered and somewhat disbelieving.

"Ginny Weasley" she introduced herself bitterly. "The youngest and most non-descript of the Weasley clan, sister to a cool treasure-hunter, two head-boys, the funniest two in school and Harry Potter’s adventuring sidekick. You know the Weasleys right? We stand out because of our red hair and crazy Muggle-loving ideas. We campaign for honour and respect and we fight against evil and oppression…except for Ginny, no Ginny actually takes sides with Voldemort and manages to almost bring him back to life. You want to know about trying to live up to high expectations?" she spat "I wrote the book."

**

Draco had never actually considered it that way. Admittedly he never spent much time looking beyond the cage of his own anger at his situation but the little girl had a point. It was almost funny to think of it. He had more in common with this brat than he could ever have imagined. And she was right. She’d been more of an ally to Voldemort than he’d ever managed.

He smiled.

She smiled back.

Draco felt a flutter of something. A sudden dance of emotion like a piano scale across his nerves. His heart seemed to throw in an extra beat and he gasped to feel it.

"What?" she was asking.

"It’s nothing" he said, running one hand distractedly across his chest, trying to dispell his disquiet. "It’s so strange."

"What is?"

"You’re right."

"About what this time?" she joked.

"Maybe we do have something in common after all" he admitted reluctantly.

"We have more than one thing" she whispered, looking around fearfully as another shower of dust spat its way into their hiding space.

"OK" said Hermione authoritatively, trying desperately to focus. "This is the plan."

"Right, good" said Harry, a little bemused.

"You have to use magic."

"I see"

"Without your wand"

"You lost me"

"I know you can do it Harry" she said simply. "What’s more…you’ve done It before." She took one look at his confused face and continued. "Aunt Petunia wasn’t it?"

Harry raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"I don’t see how inflating you is going to help in this situation Hermione. Did you bang your head or something?"

"You can do it" she insisted stubbornly.

"Hermione it is way too risky! I have absolutely no control over my magic at times like that. Of all the places to practice I should think that this is the worst!"

She watched his denial, confident that he would see the sense in her proposal eventually.

"Harry, I didn’t want to bring this up before but I can smell smoke, stronger all the time, the air is getting musty and the roof looks unsteady. We have to try something and we have to try it now."

"It’s not going to work"

"Just try."

She watched him fight back the pain he must be suffering to concentrate. He sat up straighter, wincing as he dragged his legs up to support himself. He concentrated on the wall to their right, his intense gaze never wavering".

**

"Concentrate, concentrate" Harry muttered to himself. Whenever he had spontaneously performed magic before it had been prompted by rage, by circumstance. He tried to summon those feelings again. He forced himself to endure a mental slide-show of neglect, wading through memories of abuse and misery with the Dursleys and focusing the resultant rage towards the debris. Nothing.

It wasn’t fair. He’d defeated Voldemort over and over and now he was entrapped by wood and stone, inanimate obstacles, and they were going to get the best of him! What was more, he was stuck here with Hermione. Hermione – don’t look at her, concentrate – Hermione who had kissed him. He might die before he had a chance to tell her how he felt, well, to try and put into words this strange new internal cartwheel he suffered every time he looked into her eyes. He glanced at her now, blood smeared and teary eyed and he felt a deep anger ignite within him. The rubble around them began to tremble in response, small fractured splinters of wood beginning to re-align. Like the entrance to Diagon Alley, the mess about them began to re-order itself and then, it stopped.

"Harry you were doing it!" Hermione exclaimed joyfully, grasping him tightly to her.

"I can’t do it" Harry said sadly. "I could feel it. It was like trying to fly in the face of a gale. I’m not strong enough."

**

‘He still didn’t get it" thought Hermione in amazement. She felt a rush of sadness for the burden of his life. Despite his achievement he could never feel satisfied. He was never at peace. The haunting knowledge that his parents had given their lives for his left him seeking to repay a priceless debt.

"Harry, it’s ok. Take a break. We’ll try again in a minute-"

"You aren’t listening Hermione, I can’t do it."

"Harry we just have to-"

This time Hermione cut herself off mid-sentence in order to scream as the beam above her head suddenly worked its way loose and, splinters flying, chafed past the surrounding wood and paper to fall mercilessly down towards her. She cringed, instinctively ducking her head onto her chest and raised her arms above her with a gasp of terror.

The expected impact did not come. Tentatively she opened one eye and peered beyond her extended hands to see why. The beam was swaying about a metre above her head, menacingly threatening still. Confused she looked at Harry.

Eyes focused, facial muscles tense and with a single hand outstretched, Harry muttered through clenched teeth; "Now is the time to move Hermione!"

Please R+R, the characters will appreciate it because they’ll get out of this mess sooner!

7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: It's all JKs

**

Ginny looked up fearfully. She hated this waiting around. She was feeling restless; helpless. Draco was nervously tapping his hand against his thigh. Rather than annoying her, she found the repetitious noise somewhat soothing, both for its metronomical regularity and because it illustrated that she wasn’t alone.

She shivered at the thought. Being here with Draco was difficult, especially since her clarity of disgust was becoming clouded, but being trapped here alone would be even worse.

Ginny began to chew nervously on a section of hair. It was a habit her mother loathed and repeatedly complained about. Inadvertently, by a mere chain of thoughts, Ginny’s mind was suffused with thoughts of home. The warmth and coziness of The Burrow provided a stark contrast to her current surroundings. She sniffed the air wistfully, hoping to disguise the stale mustiness with memories of her mother’s cooking; her favourite vegetable pie, Ron’s favourite cake, Percy’s pompous love of stew (a working man’s dinner!)…

She opened her eyes to see Draco staring at her curiously.

"What are thinking about?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"Home" she answered, simply, wistfully.

His face blanked out immediately. The tendrils of interest disappeared in an instant. She wished that she could get that expression back.

He seemed to sense her disappointment as he asked, almost defensively "What?"

"It’s nothing."

"Tell me" he insisted.

"I was just-"

"Just what?" he said more aggressively.

"Draco-" she said softly.

"I don’t need your pity." He stormed.

"There’s a difference between pity and sympathy" Ginny bit back. "When you act like this I’m not sure that you deserve either."

As soon as his anger had flared it seemed to disappear. Draco just looked tired as he said "I hate this place Gin. It feels like a cage."

She felt her spirits lift suddenly and a wild giggle escaped her.

"I’m sorry" she joked "Who were you taking to?"

At first Draco merely looked confused, but as he thought back over his words a sheepish smile crept to his face. "I was talking to you Weasley." He said, but his words lacked any menace.

"I heard ‘Gin’"

"Then you’re obviously deaf as well as stupid" he said lightly, haughtily raising his chin.

"I don’t think so" she smiled.

"My home isn’t like yours" he said, rushing his confession into the moment of joviality between them.

**

As Ginny tried to process his words, Draco himself was taken aback. He hadn’t meant to say that! It was strange, he reflected. It was a genuine sentiment that had run through his head when she had told him that she was thinking of home. It was a thought that he had wanted to share but had routinely repressed. He had recognized a strange yearning to try and make Ginny understand him, to give out part of himself, but the emotions were too unfamiliar to accept. Instead, it was as if the confession had been relegated to a subconscious buffer somewhere, waiting for a chance to be shared, a moment when Draco’s guard was down.

As soon as it was down, he wished it were back up. She was looking at him with the same mix of pity and astonishment. He hated the feeling of weakness that it induced, but the words were out there and he couldn’t take them back.

Desperate to claw back some semblance of control he hurried on to say "Never mind."

Silence.

She was just sitting still, waiting. She wasn’t even staring at him as such.

"You wouldn’t understand". He felt compelled to defend his withdrawal.

"Probably not" she said softly.

In that moment of honesty, Draco felt a sense of- what was it? – perhaps trust spring up between them. In confessing her inability to understand, perversely she had made him feel the exact opposite. In what seemed like the far-distant past his so-called friends nodded and agreed with his every statement, claimed to personally understand every experience and Draco had found their sycophancy stifling.

**

As fascinated as she was by the emerging struggle in Draco, Ginny recognized that she wasn’t going to get any further down that particular emotional path. He had called her by her real name and shared a very personal revelation; what more was she looking for?

Why did she even care? She was bewildered by her own interest in him. Part of it, she conceded, came from wanting to know why Draco behaved in such a way. She needed to know that his attitude wasn’t her problem. Yet, beyond this, she found him… fascinating. Raised in a world of light, Ginny was fascinated by the dark. Much as she loved her family and their dedicated devotion to a sense of good, she often felt excluded. Her experience with Tom Riddle’s diary had left her with a distinct sense of a greying blur between the black and white of morality.

Draco was an enigma and she craved complexity because it made her feel less alone.

"So" she said, aware that he needed a way to back away from emotional wounds "how long do you think it will be before someone finds us?" She found it strangely difficult to speak to him now. They had worked past the comfortable familiarity of insults and anger and were deep in new territory.

Draco looked up and around. "I hope that Dumbledore might be aware that we destroyed a sizeable part of his school" he said dryly.

Ginny thought of their bumbling Headmaster and shook her head "I doubt it!" she giggled.

"Ginny" he said suddenly and quickly, his words tumbling over each other. "Don’t panic but I think the beams to your left just moved. Start to move over here. Be quick and for Merlin’s sake be quiet".

She froze.

"It’s okay" he said. "Just gently move away from those books."

Trying hard not to move her upper body, Ginny began to push herself on.

"Easy" cautioned Draco, his eyes fixed to a spot above her head.

She moved a little faster. Her stomach lurched in fear as she felt the pile collapse beside her. She was aware of dust grazing her ankles and clogging her throat, the rush of air brushing past her head and the firm grip of a hand on her wrist pulling her from harms way.

"That’s the second time you’ve saved me." She gasped tearfully, looking back over at the new pile of rubbish.

"I know." Draco said simply.

She was suddenly, palpably aware of their proximity. She looked down, almost ashamed of the rush of feeling that overwhelmed her. Gratitude, curiosity, lust, relief and fear combined together to leave her lightheaded. Her own attraction to him was a revelation in itself. She had thought that she was in love with Harry. Harry who was so good and sweet and simple. She had never felt the same overpowering need to touch him. She had never wanted to kiss him so badly that her body ached. She had never felt about him the way she was feeling now. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing, drugging her.

More than ever she wanted to impress him, to overwhelm him. She wanted to be sexy and sophisticated but was struck dumb.

**

Draco saw the flush of her skin. He watched her eyes dilate, her lips part and her skin turn pink. The tip of her tongue darted, entirely unconsciously, to moisten her dry lips and he was transfixed.

In mere hours she had gotten closer to him than he’d ever thought possible…and he’d nearly lost her again. The fragility of their situation merely heightened his response. He wanted her. He couldn’t deny it. She had tapped into an emotional side of him that he had never dreamed of. The way she was staring at him didn’t hurt either, he acknowledged wildly.

He leaned towards her, determined to seize this moment and give in to his passion before he was stricken with the oddest reluctance. He hesitated. He didn’t want this encounter to follow the patterns of old. He wanted more from her.

"Ginny" he said, shaking his head.

**

Arrested mid-daze, Ginny looked at him bewildered.

"I don’t-"

Before he could finish she knew what he was going to say. Choked with disappointment and embarrassment, she concluded "…want me". She nodded, with grim determination.

"No". His response was short and accompanied with an incredulous laugh. "This isn’t", he seemed to struggle with the words "it isn’t the right time or place."

Ginny was stung, her indignation riled by his rejection "Nobility doesn’t suit you Draco" she spat. "I should have known better than to even think that there might be-"

**

Draco rolled his eyes in resignation. He reached out with his other hand and grasped the front of her robes. In a short and decisive move her pulled her toward him and kissed her, firmly. His hand that still gripped her wrist guided her arm around his waist, pulling her body against his.

"You can feel how much I want you" he said clearly, staring into her eyes. "But not here."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don’t know, just leave it" he snapped.

She was looking at him with the ominous signs of comprehension. Conflicting emotions surged through him. On the one hand, his automatic response was to snap back with a biting retort, to put her in her place and end this pathetic display. His other response was wry amusement at his own sentimentality and a strange happiness at her expression. His indecision gave Ginny the time to intervene.

"You…" she said, faltering, a bewildered smile creeping onto her face.

"I don’t want more hassle from Potty and chum" Draco defended half-heartedly.

"You’re not half as bad as you pretend to be Draco Malfoy" she smiled. Shaking her wrist free from his grip, she grasped his hand and clasped it in her own. "It’s okay though…even if we make it out of here, your secret’s safe with me!"

**

Hermione edged out from under the hovering heap of rubbish, wincing as her grazed hands grasped desperately for leverage. She reached Harry’s side and watched, incredulous, as his hand lowered and the debris seemed to float serenely to earth.

For a moment she could only stare, transfixed. Then she turned her gaze back to him. Throwing her arms around him she laughed happily.

"Harry you did it!"

"Ow" he winced "Yeah! Ow" he repeated. He shook his head a little and looked for the first time at Hermione. A surge of giddying relief caused him to joke headily "You can hug me again now if you like."

Her expression was suspicious at first, as though she wasn’t sure whether he was just joking.

Then she did.

Despite the thorough jarring his already battered ribs and legs received in the process, Harry couldn’t stop grinning. Her soft ringlets of hair nestled against his face, her slim body next to his and her arms tight around his neck made him feel secure, safe and …loved.

"Hermione" he said quickly. He had to speak now while his confidence was high (more from the hug than the success of his magic!) and while her face was turned away. "About what happened before…"

He could feel her try to pull back, but he held her tightly against him.

"Harry" she said, half-laughing. "We have more important things to think about now!"

This time Harry let her pull back until she was leaning in the loose circle of his arms.

"No we don’t."

She blushed prettily.

"Harry!"

"Hermione" he said evenly.

I-" she said, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

"You kissed me." He reminded her.

"I was there!" she retorted.

"So…"

"So, I thought you were dead! I just…I never thought this would happen!"

"What would happen?"

Hermione was wrong-footed by his sudden line of questioning. He could see that it was starting to annoy her. Harry, on the other hand… Harry was loving it! It was nice to see Hermione without answers for once and her look of confusion was adorable.

"This…this-"

"That we’d be trapped in a library?" Harry asked innocently.

"You know what I mean Harry!" she said but her smile persisted.

"I think" he said "I think you might be talking about this". He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

**

Hermione was flooded with a rush of adrenaline.

"Harry!" she said, shocked but almost admiring.

Her smile died as she stared at him, suddenly aware of the magnitude of what she was getting into. The depth of emotion she felt was frightening. At that moment she couldn’t think of anything more than loving him, couldn’t imagine any other way to be. At the same time, the cloying fear that she might at some point lose him was overwhelming. The pull of emotions seemed to stop her heart for a second.

She reached blindly for the comforting reassurance of his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, suddenly concerned by her expression.

"You better not be doing this because you think we’re going to die Harry Potter" she chastened, blinking back her tears.

His grin threatened to split his face in two. "You know I’m not."

He leaned in to kiss her again and she gave herself up willingly to his embrace. Their kiss was sustained, heated. Their hands entwined as they pushed themselves closer together.

**

Ginny could feel every millimetre of the skin on her hand, like the nerves had been heightened. Draco’s skin was warm and soft, his hand much wider than hers. She could feel her pulse throbbing through her wrist. She thought she could feel Draco’s pulsing next to hers and wondered fancifully whether they were pulsing in unison.

When he brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed the back, bending his head without breaking his stare into her eyes, she felt suddenly light headed.

"I don’t care about the right place or time" she said suddenly, crawling closer to him.

With her free hand, she reached out and traced her finger from brow to jaw. He flinched at first, seeming uncomfortable with the intimacy of her gesture. She regretted her forwardness and sadly made to pull away.

He caught her free hand with his. Lacing their fingers together he kept both hands imprisoned, raising them to between their bodies.

In one slow seamless movement, he pulled his hands back and up, taking hers with him, guiding her arms around his neck. Once free he moved his hands to her back, pulling her against him, kissing her again and again.

**

Suddenly an ominous rumbling pervaded the space around them. Everything began to vibrate, the chink and crash of rubble mingling with the noises until it reached a cacophany of destruction.

Draco held Ginny tightly, trying to shield her from the falling debris. He closed his eyes fearfully. The roar grew louder, flashes of light illuminated their small hole and gradually their surroundings seemed to raise themselves from the floor.

"Ginny" hissed Draco "Do you see that?"

"I see it" she said wonderingly.

The rubble continued to rise, leaving the two of them huddled together on an emptying floor. Over Ginny’s shoulder, Draco saw another couple in a similar position to their left.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy!"

Ginny turned her head at the sound.

"Hermione?"

"Ginny!"

The assorted collection of objects above their head suddenly vanished. In the space vacated Professor Dumbledore and assorted members of the school staff hovered, seated sedately on broomsticks, their wands extended.

**

Ginny was suddenly very conscious of her own position. She was practically straddling Draco Malfoy in front of half the school staff! Her arms were still around his neck! She hastily withdrew them, blushed dark red and began to stammer.

"Pr- Pr- Professor Dumbledore…I can explain. It’s er" she nervously laughed "not what it looks like."

Draco, damn him, just sat back, folded his arms and smirked. "It’s not?" he asked.

She elbowed him sharply. "I’m-"

He raised an eyebrow cockily. She wanted to kiss him again. While that realization was hitting home, Ginny became suddenly aware that to a similar sounding barrage was coming from her left. She pulled away from Draco to see Hermione scrambling desperately aware from Harry, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears and earnestly protesting the innocence of their appearance.

**

Harry chuckled to himself as Hermione stuttered her way through an explanation to Professor Dumbledore.

Glancing to his right, he caught Draco’s eye. They shared a moment of amusement before the shock of agreement set in.

Then the shock really set in.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed, shocked.

Draco’s smile widened.

A cough from above reminded Harry of their situation. Looking up he met the twinkling gaze of Professor Dumbledore and the accusing stares of the rest of the staff. They were still hovering behind him, seeming to shocked to move.

As he, Hermione and Ginny opened their mouths to speak, Dumbledore raised a warning hand.

He brought the hand to his face and rested one finger silently against his mouth.

His inclined his head towards the one remaining thing left on what had been the library floor. The sign proclaiming "No Talking" rose slowly into the air and rotated before their eyes.

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand and rolled his eyes at their Headmaster’s gesture.

There was a beat.

"Oh you’ve got be bloody kidding!" came Draco’s disgusted comment.

Ginny giggled and then smothered the sound in his robes.

**

THE END

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