Hurt Loves

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Hurt Loves

Chapter 6

Aravaeya

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Guys, I really appreciate all the reviews that I am getting for this story, and I’m really sorry that I cannot update as frequently as I would like, but my life is very hectic, and I am very sick. By very hectic I mean, I have to sacrifice precious hours of sleep to write this story when I only get about 4, maybe five if I’m lucky, to start with a night. I’m trying, I really am. You may have noticed the whole ‘Ginny gets sick when she’s stressed’ thing that’s been going on in this story. Well, it’s me giving all of you a little hint about myself. When I get stressed, or when I have little sleep, I make myself so sick, so I can’t strain myself to much, but I’m really going to try and prioritize this(who needs to do well on their A Levels when there’s a story to write?J I wish!). Thank you all for your continued support, loyalty, and patience!

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As we exit Draco’s room, I glance at Harry briefly. He looks tense, his face strained, like he usually does before he wants to broach an uncomfortable topic. Something that will undoubtedly lead to a confrontation. Something that I don’t want. I do some quick thinking, searching for something to say before he speaks.

“Harry, I thought you were going to the Animagi class too,” I say as  we start down the corridor towards Hermione’s room. He furrows his eyebrows for a second, as if frustrated, but then his face clears and I give an inward sigh of relief.

“I am.” I look towards him, wondering why he made it seem like he wasn’t when he spoke in Draco’s room. He smirks at me. “I didn’t want Malfoy to know. He’d think I was geeky or something, going to an extra class. Not exactly the image that I’m trying to promote.”

I roll my eyes and we stop in front of the portrait of Hogwarts’ female founders. Boys. They’re all the same. Concerned about their image. Actually, I guess they’re not that much different from boys. This makes me smile slightly, and I bite my lip so Harry won’t notice.

“Asphodel,” Harry supplies, and the portrait swings open. He ushers me inside, and we enter Hermione’s suite of rooms, so very much like Draco’s, but a female version, softer, with lighter colors. I was in the hallway that night when Draco almost got caught by Filch because of this very room. I was on my way to see Hermione, and if I hadn’t been out there, Lord knows where I would be now, or what state Draco would be in. Despite all of the problems I’ve had in the past week, the sickness, and the struggle, I wouldn’t have it any other way, not now that I know what’s happened and have the suggestion in my mind of what could happen.

This used to be one of my favorite places. I look around the room, taking in the light polished wood that Hermione’s furniture is made out of. My mind immediately conjures up an image of the sleek, dark, varnished wood in Draco’s room. I let my hand drift along the duvet on the large bed, let it touch the curtains around the bed ever so gently. They’re scarlet and gold – gorgeous shades and wonderful together – but my mind remembers the deep greens and intense silvers of the fabric in Draco’s room. Given a choice, I know which I would choose as my room.

“Gin-bug?” Hary’s voice brings my out of my momentary reverie, as does the tap of his hand upon my shoulder. “You okay?”

I nod, and grin at him. “Yeah. Thanks. Just a bit tired.”

He smiles sympathetically, the weariness in his face showing through. “I know how that feels.” I give him a brief hug, knowing how much pressure is upon him with the war heating up outside our snug and safe castle, and with the little everyday things pressing down upon him – Hermione, not that she’s a bad thing, just something else to think about, Quidditch, his last and final matches here at school fast approaching, N.E.W.T.s, the tests that could make or break his career – he has every reason to be worn out. “If it weren’t for people like you, and Ron, and Hermione…”

He lets his voice trail off as a smile comes over his face, and Hermione immediately comes bustling out of the bathroom, pulling a turtleneck sweater down over her mass of long brown hair.

“Harry!” she says, gladness evident in her voice. She immediately flies across the room and wraps her arms around his waist, and he leans down to give her a short, sweet kiss.

She turns to face me, her lovely smile still in place.

“Ginny!” she says, smiling happily as her eyes meet mine, “You’re here! I can never seem to find you. Where were you last night? I went looking for you everywhere, and this morning!”

I look to Harry for help, and he immediately speaks up, pulling Hermione to him with his long arms. “She was taking a nice peaceful walk this morning. I found her coming in through the front doors.”

For a moment I think that Hermione will let me off the hook, but my relief is short lived as she turns on me, concern evident on her face.

“Ginny! You should have known better than to take a walk when you’ve been so sick without someone there! You could have collapsed out there and no one would have found you for ages!” Hermione exclaims, freeing herself from Harry and coming closer to me so that I will feel the full weight of her reproach.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” I say, through gritted teeth, trying to look sorry. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“Good,” she says, smiling at me, and turning together up her school cloak and satchel. I glare at Harry over her bent head, and he shrugs apologetically, making a face at me. I stick my tongue out at him, and he brings his hands to his ears, wiggling his fingers around in return like I used to do with my brothers when I was younger. Hermione turns around just in time to catch him with his fingers still wiggling, and she looks back and forth between us, and I don my ‘I’m innocent’ face lightning quick, leaving her to focus on Harry’s guilty one, his hands frozen in mid air next to his ears.

“What are you doing, Harry?” she says, a reproving and clearly exasperated look on her face. “Seriously, I feel like I have to be your mother sometimes, telling you not to make faces at the girls for god’s sake. What has Ginny ever done to you to warrant that type of behavior?”

She gives him a slight shove towards the door, shaking her head and rolling her eyes all the while, and he moves along, pulling it open, motioning for her to go through, but shooting me a dirty look as Hermione exits the room. I smirk and grin, sticking my tongue out once more as I pass him to leave the room.

We start to make our way towards the Transfiguration classroom, and I can feel the charm that Draco placed on my ankle begin to wear off ever so slightly, making the limp that I have desperately been trying to hide from my ever observant best friend become just slightly more pronounced. I pray to anyone listening that Hermione will for once not notice.

“Ginny, what have you done to your ankle?” Hermione says, her hand shooting out to my arm to stop me from continuing any further on our journey. I let out a frustrated sigh. So much for Divine intervention.

“Nothing, Hermione,” I assure her, starting to move forwards once more, but her hand tightens on my arm to a level that is almost painful unless I back up. After a few moments of futile resistance against my much stronger best friend, I back up and face her inquisitive eyes. The look on her face clearly says that I’m not going anywhere without giving her some sort of satisfactory explanation. Over her shoulder, where my eyes drift so as to avoid her piercing glare, I see Harry lingering behind her, wisely staying out of the conversation.

“What have you done to your ankle, Ginny?” she asks once more, eyes flashing in warning. I love my best friend, I really do, and she is quite honestly the sweetest girl on earth, but when she thinks that you’re hiding something from her that she should know, she has a determination and edge to her that makes it hard to refuse.

I bite my lip in defeat, and shrug my arm out of her grasp, a little twinge starting in my temples, the sure sign of a rough day ahead in regards to my headaches. “I went for a walk of the castle last night because I couldn’t get to sleep. I tripped while I was walking and twisted my ankle.”

Hermione survey’s me with her studious eyes, as if to read my face to see if I’m telling the truth or not.

“I swear it’s the truth Hermione!” I reassure her, lifting my half of the friendship necklace off of my collarbone to show her my truthfulness.

She licks her lips slowly, looking thoughtful, and still slightly suspicious. “And you went for a walk this morning with a sprained ankle?”

I clench my jaw, shooting Harry an exasperated look very briefly. “It wasn’t really a walk, Herm. I was sitting out on the grounds, trying to get some fresh air. And besides, it’s been taken care of, it’s just that the pain charm is wearing off a little bit.”

She tilts her head to the side, looking thoughtful, and then smiles at me, which makes me feel slightly better, even if I can see that it’s a little bit strained.

“I believe you,” she says, shrugging a little, even though I can tell that she doesn’t quite believe me. I’m glad that she’s going to let the subject rest for a while thought, despite her suspicions about my truthfulness. I feel a twinge of guilt, but I suppose that I’ll have to live with that until I fess up to her about Draco, something which I know that I am nowhere near ready for. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really, Dr-” I cut myself off before I say ‘Draco helped me’ as I was intending to.  Harry is now looking at me with wide eyes, as if he knows what I almost said, and he clears his throat loudly.

“Herm, it’s almost 9:30. We wouldn’t want to keep Professor McGonagall waiting now, would we?”

She turns her curious gaze away from me, and checks her watch, her face transforming into a look of horror as she surveys the time. It’s clear that my ankle and story are no longer on her mind, for which I breath a sigh of relief.

I shoot Harry a grateful look as Hermione takes off at a near run in front of us, silently thanking him for saving me from Hermione’s questions. The look on his face clearly says that he probably won’t be able to save me next time.

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When we arrive at the door to the Transfiguration classroom, there’s a small cluster of students already waiting, and just as we’re about to join the circle, the doors open, and Professor McGonagall steps out, motioning for us to follow her into the classroom. We file past one by one and find seats, and after everyone has entered the room, which seems significantly larger than it does when it is chock full of students, Professor McGonagall closes the door and locks it, something which I can see surprises everyone present. Professor McGonagall has never locked the door for classes. She strides to the front of the room, looking us over one by one. Her eyes rest on me as she walks by, and as I glance up into her face, her eyes catch mine. I swallow hard at the look in her eyes which is something that I can’t identify. She looks as if she’s a woman with a secret, and as she  keeps her eyes on me even as she moves forward, prompting me to turn away in embarrassment, I realize that she might well know something the others don’t, something that could have been garnered from Professor Snape. With wide eyes, I look back at her and she nods almost imperceptibly, smiling slightly and turning her eyes away from me. She stays facing the front for a moment, and then turns to face us, her usual expressionless teaching mask firmly back in place.

“Those of you who are here in this classroom are people who I have given the chance to study Animagition, to train to become Animagi. This is a hard feat, and will take an extraordinary amount of effort on your parts.”

I nod along with the rest of the class as Professor McGonagall pauses her speech to look each of us in the eye, keeping mine just for a fraction of a second this time, just like everyone else.

“This is a privilege, and I want you all to understand the amount of responsibility that comes along with it. You are here because I have invited you on the basis of your academic excellence and other achievements. Failure to maintain academic excellence throughout the course of this year jeopardizes your participation in this course. Understood?”

I nod again, although I feel my attention slipping away from my Transfiguration teacher, and I glance around at the people in the room. There are five Hufflepuffs, sitting in the back corner, all seventh years; six Ravenclaws, sitting in front of me, a mixture of sixth and seventh years; and no Slytherins. From Gryffindor, there are eight of us. Hermione, Harry, Ron(sans Francesca for what I think might be the first time since they got together), Dean, Neville, Lena(my dorm mate, sans her twin sister Ingrid), Parvati(sans Lavender), and myself. Harry, Hermione, Ron and I are sitting in near the middle of the room, with the other Gryffindors scattered around us. It doesn’t really surprise me that there aren’t any Slytherins. Even if any had received invitations to join the class, I doubt that any would have signed up. Taking extra classes with the Gryffindor Head of House would be highly frowned on by the Slytherins.

 

“Now, the textbooks that I am handing out will be yours to use until the end of this course. Please take good care of them as they are very hard to come by and are of sentimental value to me.” Professor McGonagall places one of the extremely large old looking books that she is carrying down on the desk in front of me, and in response to the loud noise, my head immediately snaps round to face her, having finished my perusal of the room. I glance down at the book, The Art of Animagition, by Minerva McGonagall. Professor McGonagall wrote this book? I open the front cover to glance at it’s first publishing date. 1946. Goodness gracious. McGonagall is almost the same age as Dumbledore!

My sleep deprived mind is still far down that vein of thought when her voice pulls me back once more.

“Now, if you will please quietly read the first chapter of your books, we can get on with our first lesson.”

I open the book and attempt to read her immensely complex instructions and explanations in the first chapter, An Introduction to Animagition, and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is going to be a really, really long day.

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When McGonagall lets us go for the day, near half past four in the afternoon, everyone participating in the Animagus lessons looks, and I’m sure feels, cranky and extremely tired, not only from excessive amounts of ready and lectures, but from two hours of practical wand work. I feel like I’m ready to sink into the first ditch that I can find and die from pure and utter fatigue – and indecision.

Once again, away from the safety of Draco’s room, my head clears and I can think without interruption, and all I can really know for sure are two things. One, that I really want…well, I really want ‘something’, but I’m not sure what that ‘something’ is, and two, that we, as in Draco and I, really need to talk. That is the top priority, and I can’t let my aims be clouded and pushed aside by feelings and emotions and desires as they are prone to do.

My head starts to throb quite painfully, the headache that has been building steadily all day finally pushing itself to the forefront of my consciousness, determined to make itself known.

Harry moans and the three of us sink down onto a bench near the Transfiguration classroom.

“I am so tired!” he grumbles, the weariness evident in his voice. He has been showing excessive signs of crankiness since our pitifully short lunch break.

I nod in agreement, sinking my head down onto one of his broad shoulders mirroring Hermione’s posture. She’s sitting on his other side, eyes closed, looking as if she’s ready to go to sleep for the rest of the day. She opens her eyes, sighs and begins to pull her things together as if getting ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, reaching out for her as she stands up, catching her wrist gently and knocking my head off his shoulder in the process. I’m to tired to protest, and let it sag against the closest wall instead, watching my friends through an uninterested haze.

“Library,” she admits, although she looks somewhat sad to leave us. “Arithmancy homework.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have taken so many subjects…” Harry starts his familiar lecture, a definite ‘I told you so’ note in his voice, trying to lift himself up, and Hermione pushes him back down to the bench.

“Yes, Harry, we all know, but I am taking what I am taking, so just hush up,” she instructs him, and she leans down to silence him with a long kiss before giving me a half hug, a look of immense sympathy after a pointed glance at Harry, and disappearing in the general direction of the library.

Harry and I sit in silence for an indeterminable period of time, and I feel sure that I am just about to fall asleep when he nudges my arm, bringing me awake once more.

“What?” I ask irritably, my temper flaring as my temples throb even more with every passing second. Can’t he just leave me alone? I want to sleep!

“You have to tell her, you know,” he says to me. I sigh, turning my annoyed gaze on him. “She was suspicious this morning and you’re being deceitful.”

“I am not talking about this now.” I feel my crankiness asserting itself, and know where this conversation is heading. I gather my things and stand up, ready to go back to Draco’s room to change his bandage’s, sort out my feelings, and have a nice long sleep.

“No, Ginny, you’re not walking away from me like this, not after everything that I’ve done for you,” he says in a stern voice, and I turn back to him, rolling my eyes.

“And that is what?” I know that I’m being rude now, and ungrateful, but I really just want him to leave me alone for god’s sake! Can’t he see that I don’t want to talk about this now – or preferably ever? This is ultimately leading to a showdown, I can tell – it’s always impossible to avoid when Harry and I disagree since our tempers love to make themselves known - and all I want to do is curl up in bed, preferably Draco’s where everything is cozy and warm, not get nasty with Harry.

“I covered for you this morning when Hermione wanted to know where you were, and I helped you when you almost slipped and said Draco’s name, and I’ve kept your secret from her, even though I don’t want to, and I was civil to Draco this morning!” He pauses and takes a big breath, allowing me to begin to process his words. “Do you know how hard that is? Being civil to the person who’s made my life almost a living hell these past seven years? The person who has taunted and teased your best friend, my girlfriend, who’s hexed her and called her such horrible and filthy names that I don’t even want to repeat them. The person who’s been so cruel to your brother, especially on the Quidditch field The person who was so mean to you these past six years. The person whose father gave you that diary that made you open the Chamber of Secrets! I respect that you’re a big girl now and that you can make your own choices, but don’t you think that you could choose a little bit better? It’s hard! I was civil to him, Gin. I spoke to him, for you, so don’t ask me what I’ve done for you.”

“Don’t judge him by his father, Harry,” I say, my temper rising dangerously, near to the point of bursting. I’m not sure why I suddenly feel so defensive of Draco when I have questioned his loyalties so much myself, but the need to defend him asserts itself within me. “I told you this morning what his father has been doing to him. How can you compare the  two? I thought that you said that you were okay with this. I thought that you said you felt sorry for him. I thought you understood!”

Harry smirks at me, in a very Draco like fashion, much to my anger, and launches forth once more. “I didn’t want you to be angry with me Ginny, I wanted to avoid creating a scene in his room-”

“So you lied to me?” I snarl, a dose of my venomous temper tainting my voice.

“No-” he starts, but I interrupt him, my anger close to the point of being out of control.

“Yes, Harry, you did. You said that you understood, that you didn’t mind, which you obviously do, so you lied to me.”

“And you think that you’re one to preach to me about lying to people, Gin?” he growls at me, a true glimpse of his legendary temper shining through. It seems that I’ve finally met my match. “You who were sneaking off to see Malfoy and lying to me about it? Don’t lecture me about lying. I’m just trying to protect you, so you don’t go and sleep with him before you realize what you’re doing, and if you don’t tell Hermione, I will.”

“No you won’t, Harry!” I exclaim, pushing him back onto the bench with a nasty snarl. “And don’t try to protect me either! Ickle Gin-bug’s a big girl now, and she can snog and shag who she wants without big brother Harry telling her what to do, so why don’t you just sod off and mind your own damn business.”

I stalk away from him, not looking back as he angrily calls my name. I break into a ruin as I hear him come after me, and I quickly lose him in the mass of hallways around Draco and Hermione’s rooms.

Tears threaten to fall any moment, stinging the back of my eyes, everything that Harry said hitting me hard in the heart. The rational side of me knows that our harsh words are a direct result of lack of sleep and emotional confusion – God knows that I didn’t mean most of the mean things that I said – but the reality of our squabble still pierces me hard, almost like a physical blow to the chest.

I mutter the password to Draco’s room, having ended up in front of the portrait, and I feel the weight of my guilt and anger an d sadness threaten to crush me at any moment as the portrait swings open and I enter the room.

“Ginny?” Draco’s voice sounds hopeful, wistful, no doubt in reference to our kisses and moments of happiness this morning, things which seem all to far away in my highly confused and clouded mind.

I turn to the armchair, where I see him through my tear-blurred eyes, and I choke back the torrent of tears threatening to break forth. I see him jump up from his chair as quickly as he can, and within seconds, I feel his arms envelop me in a tight hug.

“Ginny?” his voice is soft, comforting, and it tips the scales holding back my feelings and my sobs come bursting forth, shaking me until I’m hiccupping and barely able to breath. I know that I must present a pitiful sight, but Draco just leads me over to the bed, where I follow him up onto it, sinking back into the soft warm mattress gratefully, burying my face in a pillow, suddenly ashamed at my outburst.

“What happened?” he asks, gently pushing my hair away from my face so he can look into my eyes.

“H-Harry and I h-had a f-fight,” I manage to choke out in between my hiccups and a new wave of tears.

Draco’s face immediately becomes a mask of anger, and I feel him shaking against me. “What did the bloody wanker say?”

I can’t get the words out over the lump in my throat, and I shake my head. Draco’s uninjured hand comes up to stroke my cheek ever-so-gently, soothing me, calming my shaking body every so slowly.

“Was it about us?” he asks, his voice hesitating ever so slightly on the word ‘us’.

I nod, and gather my thoughts, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “He knows about what has happened between -” I find it hard to say what I mean, as I do not really know what has happened.

“Between us?” Draco volunteers. I shrug slightly and nod.

“Yeah. He said that I had to tell Hermione because she’s my best friend and I’ve been lying to her, and I said that I wasn’t ready to talk about it, and we just ended up  shouting at each other.” I sniffle in what I know is a most unattractive way, but I really don’t think that there is an attractive way to sniffle, so I suppose that it can’t be helped. “I said some really mean things to him.”

I look up to see Draco snarling. “He deserved everything you said to him, I’m sure. I knew from the moment that I saw him in here this morning that he would cause nothing but problems for you. He has no right to interfere with your life, Ginny!”

“But he’s my brother, Draco, and I hurt him. We were both just so tired,” I try to explain, but before I can go on,  a huge yawn that I can’t suppress makes me realize just how tired I actually am. Draco’s face softens slightly, and he pulls back the covers on his bed, helping me under them. Gently, reverently, he unclasps my school robe, taking it off and throwing it to the side, so that I’m left in my trousers and t-shirt. He does the same with my shoes, and then pulls the covers on top of me as I watch in a stupefied haze.

“Go to sleep, Ginny,” he says, “We’ll talk later.”

I let my eyes close, and as I drift off to sleep, I feel him wrap his uninjured arm around me from behind, pulling me close to him and tucking my head underneath his chin.

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It’s not as long as I would have liked, but I have masses of homework to catch up on from being off school sick, so I’m sorry. Guess you’ll just have to tune in to see what happens between Harry and Ginny, and what happens between Hermione and Ginny, and if you think that this story is just about Ginny/Draco falling in love and living happily every after, you’ve got another thing coming! They’ve got a war to overcome, remember?

Please review, this is my first Draco/Ginny fic(and you could also argue, my first fic), and reviews are what keep me going!