Disclaimer: I own Jack... only a ton of Constitutional law studying that I haven't done!
Sorry for the delay... Good god I know it has been like 2 months. But I needed to regroup and re-evaluate the story. But all is well now... only if school would cooperate ?
Chapter 18: Conversations
Hermione's quill scratched quietly, the small sound echoing through the silent common room. School had yet to start, yet this was no hindrance to the new Head Girl. It was early and her classmates were still lost in the slumber that seemed to avoid Hermione these days. She pinched her nose and set down her quill. She couldn't remember the last time she had managed a full night's sleep. Glamour charms did wonders to hide the darkening rings that blossomed beneath her eyes.
Her mind muddled the happiness from attaining her penultimate goal, the position of Head Girl, with the sorrow and confusion over the changes that had been wrought in her second home.
The classes were smaller this year; many students either hadn't returned or weren't here to return. Those that had returned were not the same students that had left, Hermione included.
She tried not to dwell on it, she should be happy. The war was over, and all her close friends had made it through alive. She was Head Girl and she was dating Harry, the love of her life. Right?
She wasn't and she knew it. Harry's loving words no longer eased the ache that seemed to be perpetually present in her chest. Knowing that all her hard work had been rewarded felt hollow.
The whisper of footsteps entering the common room echoed off the stone walls. Hermione's head popped up at the sound and she caught sight of a red-headed figure slowly moving through the chilly room.
"Ginny?" Hermione questioned quietly.
To say the least, she was surprised to see the younger girl this early in the morning. Ginny's black robes hung haphazardly from her small shoulders and her hair was mussed as though she had been asleep.
Ginny turned her head at the sound of Hermione's voice. She should have known that sneaking into her dorm unnoticed at five in the morning was just too much to ask.
With a loud expulsion of air Ginny raised her eyes to Hermione. "Yes."
Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly and set her quill down. "You're up awfully early, or should I say out rather late."
Ginny held her gaze level. She really didn't feel like the accusations that she was sure were to come from the Head Girl. "Yes, should I expect a detention tomorrow or just points taken away?" she questioned her voice steady but hollow.
Hermione reminded herself that despite Ron's feelings about his sister and her possible illicit relations, she had seen Ginny with her own two eyes this summer. She couldn't pass judgment, as he had, and live with herself in the morning.
Hermione stood up, replacing the inquisitorial look in her eyes with one of motherly concern. She walked over to where Ginny stood, legs locked and arms rigid at her sides.
"Ginny, I'm not your brother." She extended an arm to the plush red sofa across from the fireplace. "Would you sit with me for awhile?"
It was Ginny's turn to narrow her eyes. "Why?"
Hermione sighed. She supposed she shouldn't have expected anything different. Ginny's monosyllabic answers were what she would have done in the same situation.
"We used to talk..." Hermione lowered her lashes, "I thought we could again."
Ginny laughed. The sound was brittle and much older than her years. "That's rich Hermione. We talked, I suppose. But it was more a matter of necessity, wasn't it. In that case: No, I don't know where Ron is, nor Harry and I think Mum is serving Shepard's Pie for dinner tonight. There, we should be caught up now."
Ginny turned to head up the stairs to her dormitory, feeling the weariness in her bones sink in.
"I saw you... There... Ginny, what did they do to you?"
Ginny stopped her back rigid. She kept her head high as she swiveled around to meet Hermione's gaze. Hermione stood by the couch, her eyes touched with concern and curiosity.
"Does it matter, Hermione It all worked out in the end, didn't it? We're all here, just as we ought to be. You're Head Girl, Harry is here to love you, and life is back to normal."
Ginny was almost surprised by the bitterness in her voice and the contempt with which she was responding to Hermione. She almost smirked. "Draco must be rubbing off on me," she thought.
Instead of the gasp of outrage that she expected to hear uttered from Hermione's mouth, the older girl lowered her head and choked back a sob.
Ginny stepped forward. No matter the anger and hurt she harbored toward Hermione, she couldn't watch the girl cry in pain; in that respect she would never be the girl Tom had desired. She placed a hesitant hand on Hermione's shaking shoulder.
Brown hair whipped back as Hermione's head shot up. Hermione furiously wiped at the tears that had begun to course down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I watched them drag you out of some room. I saw your eyes... Merlin it haunts me at night... the look in your eyes was heartbreaking. Yet I didn't do anything. I sat in my cell, not a bruise on my body and did nothing.... and... and when it all ended I ran into Harry's arms and forgot all about you. But... But I never forgot your eyes. Merlin I'm sorry!" Hermione sunk down onto the cushions, crying in earnest.
Ginny stood, staring at the small coals that still glowed in the fireplace. She could hear Hermione's sobs, but found that she couldn't move. Her words seemed to graze across her mind and skate over her soul. What did one do with that apology? Did you simply pat her back and absolve her of all wrong doing? It wasn't as if holding the grudge would change the outcome in any matter. "It didn't really matter what Hermione thought anyway, did it?" she thought to herself. None of it mattered.
Finally she turned her attention back to the weeping girl who was perched on the edge of the couch. "It's okay Hermione. I suppose I would have done the same." Ginny's eyes focused on a copy of Hogwarts, A History on the bookshelf to the right of Hermione's head.
Watery eyes locked onto Ginny's face. Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not. You have every reason to be angry with me... with all of us." Hermione reached a hand up and clasped Ginny's forearm.
A shudder ran through Ginny's body at the contact. Cold hands... A crushing grip... Ginny wrenched her arm away from Hermione with a gasp.
"Really, Hermione. It's fine. Like I said, we'll all be fine. Don't worry yourself. You have what you always wanted, does it really matter anymore?"
Ginny covered her hand over the spot where Hermione's hand had just lingered. She closed her eyes briefly, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.
Hermione sat silently, her hands hanging limply at her sides. She should have known that it wouldn't be that simple. It was foolish to have thought so. Grasping for straws, Hermione rose from her seat and returned to the desk. Picking up her quill and sniffling she began scratching away again; the theories of spell binding filling the hole that remained gaping and raw.
Draco entered his new room quietly; he had deposited a sleeping Ginny in front of the Gryffindor common room, waking her only to have her enter the portrait. He had brushed a lock of her fiery hair behind her ear and pushed her through.
He scanned his new surroundings. The room was larger than he thought, decorated unsurprisingly in silver and green. Forgoing his usual formalities, Draco lay on the bed; arms crossed behind his head and closed his eyes. He needed sleep before he even attempted to think about anything... especially Ginny.
A slow knock at his door woke Draco several hours later. Shaking the sleep from his head, he ran a hand through his hair and stood up. Reaching the door he opened it warily, positive that he wouldn't want to deal with whoever waited behind the portal.
A tall, dark-haired figure stood in the entrance... Blaise. Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Zabini. To what do I owe this honor?"
A slow smile worked its way across Blaise's features. "Need I a reason, Draco?" Blaise asked smoothly.
A narrowing of silver eyes was the only response as Draco stepped aside and let Blaise into the room.
"I suppose it does pay to be the Head Boy," Blaise remarked as he circled the interior of the room, his eyes scanning the rich decoration.
Draco murmured his assent, wishing Blaise would get to his point. He didn't feel like playing this game right now. He raked a hand through his hair, his exasperation becoming evident. "What do you want?"
Blaise cocked an eyebrow and studied Draco for a moment before he responded. He took a seat at the small round table near the stone fireplace. "I had no role in the war..." He began slowly.
Draco shifted his weight to one heel.
"Much to my father's chagrin of course, I chose to go to my grandparents' villa in Tuscany. Of course now that my father is rotting in Azkaban he might see the value in my retreat," Blaise laughed glibly.
"I understand what happened this summer, and the position you are in now. I am asking that you understand my position," Blaise continued, holding Draco's eyes for a moment. "I have no desire to see you tarred and feathered for your role. Everyone had to make choices."
Draco nodded. "Yes, we all did. Some fought -- winning or losing. Others ran." He sent a pointed look toward Blaise. "But I suppose I can't fault you for your actions. In retrospect there are times I wish I had made the same choice."
Blaise nodded. He wasn't necessarily proud of his actions, but it hadn't been his war to fight. He looked around; this was his element. Picking up after the fall, rebuilding...
"No, Draco. It was your battle, the one you were meant to fight. It wouldn't have ended if not for you, as much as many members of our house wish to the contrary. This is why I am here." Blaise finally broached the topic.
"We've been decimated, not only in numbers but in spirit. There is animosity present that the other houses don't have to experience. Although, I am sure I don't need to tell you this." Draco nodded. "I don't want to further it by alienating the strongest members of our house." Blaise shot a look at Draco.
Draco stood silently, one hip perched on the edge of his desk. He let Blaise's words drift through his mind slowly. "I'll remember that." His tone was final and dismissive.
Blaise stood up and headed toward the large wooden door. He inclined his head slowly before pushing through and heading back to the common room.
Millicent sat quietly on the edge of garish gilt chair. The headmaster had the most eclectic taste, but somehow it fit the old man. She wrung her hands lightly; she hadn't a clue as to why she had been called into his office. She hoped it hadn't anything to do with Wes.
Dumbledore raised his head from a stack of parchment that was piled in front of him and set his quill aside. "Thank you for waiting, Ms. Bulstrode. I needed to get that correspondence sent out."
Millicent nodded her head briefly, a fringe of dark hair falling across her features.
"I have called you in because of your brother."
Millicent felt her stomach plummet and her hand gripped her skirt. Her worry must have been apparent on her features, as Albus reached across the desk and patted her other hand that had come to rest on the wooden edge. "He's fine, I assure you. In fact he seems to have taken to his new dormitories quite well."
Millicent breathed a sigh of relief. "What then..." She cleared her throat. "Did you ask me here for?"
"I wanted to talk to you about your brother's circumstances." Dumbledore began. "He's a bit young yet. Not 11, as you well know. I allowed him early entrance because quite frankly, with the loss of your parents, he has few places to go besides Romania with your uncle."
Millicent nodded. "I can't thank you enough for allowing him to come early. I don't think I could have sent him off to Romania.... alone."
Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I understand. I'm just a bit worried that he isn't ready for some of the class work yet."
"I can work with him," Millicent interjected quickly. "I'll tutor him every afternoon; I'll make sure he passes all his exams."
Dumbledore chuckled. "You needn't do that. In fact I just wanted to let you know that I will be spending some time with the boy. I'll personally help prepare him for his classes. He seems exceptionally bright; he shouldn't have a problem keeping up with the course load."
Millicent flushed. "Thank you, Professor. I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you have done for my family."
"No thanks are necessary." Dumbledore rooted through a small basket on his desk and produced a lemon drop. "Sweet?"
"No thanks." Millicent shook her head. "I really shouldn't...." She stared at the sweet for a moment, before snatching it from his palm and popping it in her mouth.
A white eyebrow went up incrementally. "How do you feel about his placement?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
Millicent bit her lip. She wanted to smile ear to ear and praise Merlin that he hadn't been placed in the snake's pit of her House. But she knew that she couldn't let those feelings be known.
"Well, I was shocked to say the least. As long as he is happy wherever he is, I'm pleased." Millicent finally raised her head to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Do you think they will hold him accountable for me... will they treat him any differently because his sister is a Slytherin?"
"I understand your worry. I know that relations between the Houses can be rough. I don't expect that any of them will harm him or hold him responsible for the choices of the Sorting Hat. If they do... it will not go unpunished."
Millicent smiled in relief. "Thank you."
"Well, Ms. Bulstrode, I've kept you long enough. If I'm not mistaken your brother has been looking for you. You should find him wandering about the dungeons."
The wind was crisp across the top of the lake. Draco felt the biting air ruffle his hair. He was lost in thought, his talk with Blaise heavy on his mind.
"Draco..." He heard his name as if on the wind.
pHe paused in his step. It was her voice. He slowly turned and caught sight of her, the wind lifting strands of vivid red. Her cheeks were pinked from the sharp air.
One corner of her mouth was curled up in a smile as she came to a stop before him. Silence settled between them. Ginny could only hear the beat of her own heart and the whistle of wind as it picked up off the shores of the lake.
Her eyelids slipped close as she turned toward the lake, breathing in the coolly scented air. She opened her eyes to find Draco unmoved. "It's funny," she began.
Draco started as if shocked and turned to face the choppy blue-grey waters with her.
"Last year at this time I was sitting in my dorm room attempting to banish my freckles to the far reaches of the galaxy... all in an effort to get Dean Thomas to like me." She laughed lightly, the sound of glass breaking.
She thought she heard Draco mutter "bloody poof" under his breath, but she couldn't be sure. "Now, I'm standing by the lake with Draco 'Bloody Git' Malfoy." She turned her face toward him and a genuine smile lit up her features. "Somehow worrying about my freckles just doesn't compare now, does it."
Draco grunted approval, sounding rather like Crabbe and Goyle than the silver tongued Malfoy that he was.
"You're quiet today." Ginny commented.
"It was a long day." He responded after a space of time. Ginny looked up at him quizzically, before her eyes darkened.
"I'm sorry; Merlin knows how long... how long I kept you up last night," she whispered, suddenly conscious of all that had spilled from her lips the night before, and the glaring light of day that highlighted her every crack and fissure.
Draco waved his hand in dismissal. "No... Don't be sorry. There's no reason."
Ginny nodded her head, not quite sure what to believe anymore. He was acting off and the only thing she could attribute it to was his newfound knowledge.
Draco sighed and ran an agitated hand through his loose blond hair. Before he realized what his mouth was doing... he was speaking to her. He told her about his encounter with Zabini, and the several that followed as he had made it through the rest of his daily activities. How everything had changed in his House. The anger and hate that resonated from the damp stone walls.
Ginny listened quietly, at first amazed that he was opening up to her. Throughout their fledgling friendship Ginny had always felt the taker; Draco had always kept his thoughts, his worries just that... his. She had never pressed him on the issue. After all, this was Draco, there was little one could make him do if he had decided against it. Yet he had chosen to reveal his thoughts to her, to give and to take.
He remained facing the lake, the wind whipping though his gilt locks. He'd stopped speaking as Ginny came up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against the strong length of his back.
Draco stiffened briefly, but the warmth of her embrace and the sincerity behind it relaxed his rigid form. She didn't offer any advice, he knew there was nothing she could say. His breathing slowed, he hadn't realized how merely sharing his thoughts would make him feel. It worried him... the relief and lightness in his soul scared him. He could become addicted.
"I'm sorry." She whispered against the soft folds of fabric covering his back. She could feel the soft rise and fall of his body beneath her cheek; she could feel the slight hitch in his breath as her words registered. "I wish there was something I could do, something I could say to help..."
Draco stilled her speech with one simple word. "Gin."
She felt the vibration of his speech rumble through his body. She closed her eyes as he began to speak.
"You don't need to do anything. Shockingly enough, having you listen was apparently all I needed. I think you know exactly how that feels."
Ginny's eyes fluttered open, she nodded her head slowly. "Yes... I do. Rather therapeutic, isn't it?" she softly replied, one corner of her mouth quirked in a smile.
To his own surprise, Draco found himself smiling. "It is... oh wise one." He smirked as he turned around. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her forehead. "Thanks."
The other corner of Ginny's mouth lifted to form a full smile. She shook her head as if to dismiss his thanks, but found her chin stilled by long aristocratic fingers.
There was a moment of silence. The world around them stilled. Ginny faintly recognized that she was no longer breathing, she couldn't place why. Perhaps it was the intense light from Draco's eyes, or the way his lip was lightly curled. Perhaps it was the way the wind slightly ruffled his hair, or the strength he exuded when he held her. Whatever it was she couldn't, and wasn't sure if she wanted to, break the hold between them.
Draco continued to hold her gaze. The air fairly crackled between them. He should walk away; he should certainly drop her chin. The arguments for his withdrawal fought to be heard, but the rush of wind drowned them out.
His eyes fell on small white teeth as Ginny worried on her lower lip.
What the bloody hell was going on? Draco's brain wanted to shout. This was Ginny Weasley... absolutely no reason to be watching her soft pink lip, being drawn into her mouth. What sort of cad was he? To be thinking anything remotely lustful over a Weasley not to mention a Weasley that had just shared a horrific story of her abuse and rape with him the previous evening.
It was that memory that finally tore Draco's gaze back to Ginny's eyes. He chucked her chin slightly. "Come on. It's getting late, let's get back inside."
Ginny's eyes refocused at the sound of his deep voice. "Oh! Yes... yes, it is getting late. Merlin knows with class tomorrow I should get some sleep."
Draco laughed. "Sleep won't help with Snape's class, and you very well know it."
Ginny groaned... "Oh, I know!"
As the redheaded Gryffindor and the blond Slytherin slowly headed back to the castle, a lone figure rested against a tree some distance from where the pair had stood. The individual's breathing resumed, rapid and labored after being held so long and from the excitement of such a find.
As the shock of seeing the two together so familiarly subsided, the figure began to think, to calculate the value of this new-found information. Merlin! Malfoy and Weasley... This would be welcome news. Perhaps this information would grant the relief sought.