At First Sight

When he came to the hallway she had disappeared down he had to force himself to keep walking straight, towards his class, and not follow her. The passageway in front of him, and the students that filled it, looked dull and lifeless to him now. It seemed that she was the only color in his drab, gray world...and with that thought came the self-loathing. A Malfoy so helplessly enamored with a Weasley was despicable.

He let out a growl of frustration and slammed into the charms classroom, dimly aware of the terrified first years in the hall skittering away from him. He was early for class and the room was empty, except for the Glorious Three, sitting snug and content in their seats in the very first row. Perfect. Like his day wasn't bad enough already.

"You make me sick. I hope your insides rot out and stain your fluffy bunny slippers," he hissed as he passed them on his way to the back of the room. It was one of his lamest insults yet, but he was too exhausted to care. Exhausted from his constant longing and from his constant hating. All of this constant emotional turmoil was beginning to take its toll on him.

He was pleased to notice, however, that lame though his insults might have been, he had still managed to make the Weasel's ears go red and Wonder Boy and the Mudblood were both sitting rigidly in their seats, almost quivering with the effort it took to resist turning around and glaring at him. It was good to know that his insults were appreciated, even on his worst days. But then, he suspected that anything he said would elicit this response in the three. They would probably long to curse him until his ears fell off even if he had done something as innocent as comment on the weather.

Slouching down in his seat, he tried to concentrate on making his parchment into little wads to flick at Weasley's head. If he could only focus on being as annoying as possible maybe he could get a certain other red head out of his mind, at least for awhile.

*****

Ginny slid into a seat at the very back of the Transfiguration classroom, grateful that she had been able to get a seat where her back was up against the wall. In the corridor coming to class she had gotten an uneasy feeling that someone was watching her. She had gotten that feeling a lot, lately. Maybe she was starting to crack from work overload. She did not need this right now. Her schedule this year seemed impossible, what had motivated her to sign up for so many classes?

She slumped back into her seat and scrubbed at her eyes, exhausted. Determined not to fall asleep in McGonagall's class--that would mean detention for a week--she concentrated on flicking little balls of parchment at the back of Colin's head to keep her awake. This would mean a week of detentions too, if she was caught, but at least it was fun. Every time she hit Colin he would squeak and turn to glare indignantly at an oblivious Slytherin boy a few seats down from him. How he thought the Slytherin was getting to him, she had no idea. It was quite amusing.

Ginny accidentally giggled out loud. Colin swiveled around in his chair and looked at her suspiciously.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Um..." Ginny cast about the room desperately looking for an explanation, while trying to hide her mound of paper missiles under her hands. Her eyes alighted on their professor. "McGonagall's got a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe."

Colin turned back around to look and let out a snort of laughter. Ginny sighed in relief and went back to flicking paper wads at the back of his head, and he went back to glaring at the Slytherin.

*****

What Draco needed was some time alone to think, which was hard when his two hulking bodyguards never left his back. He tried losing them by darting around corners but they stuck to him like Spellotape. Finally, he lost all patience and whirled around furiously to confront them.

"What's wrong with you guys? Why won't you leave me the hell alone? Do you not have lives of your own?" Crabbe and Goyle responded to his tirade by blinking stupidly at him. Draco supposed he was being too hard on them. After all, it was a bit much to expect someone without a brain of their own to have a life of their own.

"Forget it," Draco said tiredly. "Just...go beat someone up for me, all right?"

This brought smiles to their two brutish faces. They cracked their knuckles then went off, looking for fresh meat to tenderize. As soon as they were out of sight, Draco sprinted for the nearest tower. Something about towers soothed him. He supposed it was the fact that the ground was so far below. Here he was above it all--above the hatred, above the longing, above the love that threatened to consume him.

Draco gazed out of the tower window at an owl souring through the sky, so serene and free. To be free...what he wouldn't give to be free. He had led a life practically devoid of restrictions, and yet, his heart had been chained since he was eleven years old.

His view of the bird was cut off by a blur of red. Of course. Of course he could never escape her. Even if death severed his body from the earth, his soul would remain anchored to her, doomed to follow her in unrequited love for all eternity.

In a few minutes she returned, flying more slowly this time, letting the breeze play with her fiery locks. The look on her face was one of pure, unadulterated joy. Draco had never felt that in his life. Looking at her, Draco realized something. If he couldn't touch her, just once, he would go insane.

That decided, he descended back into the real world and began to watch for his opportunity.

*****

Ginny struggled up the steps to the library under her mound of books. This was what she got for letting Hermione help her decide her schedule for the year. She should have listened to Ron when he told her to only take half of the class Hermione had suggested. But no, she had had to choose that moment to rebel against his older brother wisdom and now she was saddled with the largest class load of anyone in her year. Dang that Hermione.

Finally reaching the library, she set her books down with a sigh of relief. Now it was the table groaning with the weight and not her back. She had piles of homework to do. She probably shouldn't have gone out to fly earlier, but the sky had been such a perfect blue and the weather was warm and inviting, and she just couldn't resist. When she was in the air it was if the weight of her responsibilities was dropped from her shoulders, much like the weight of her books had just been dropped from her back.

Sitting down she began scratching away furiously on her Transfiguration essay. Colin sat down across from her and she looked up, the little procrastinating part of her brain secretly rejoicing at the interruption. This is why she couldn't handle the same amount of classes as Hermione; she just didn't have her work ethic.

"Hey Colin!" she greeted him cheerily. "Have you finished your Transfiguration essay yet?"

Colin frowned. "No. I couldn't concentrate during class, this Slytherin git kept chucking paper wads at me."

Ginny hid a smile. "Really?" she asked, trying to fake indignant shock. "That's horrible!"

"Yeah, tell me about it. But that's not the worst of it. I confronted him after class and he denied it. Then I kind of lost control of my sanity for a second and challenged him to a duel."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "You didn't!" she cried, horrified. Sure Colin had been in the DA, so there was a slight possibility that he could defeat the Slytherin in a duel. But the guy was a Slytherin, and the second he saw that Colin had the advantage he'd have no problem ignoring the rules of a duel and beating Colin into a little bloody pulp with his fists. A wave of guilt washed over her. "Do you want me to be your second?" she offered. The least she could do was help, since she had inadvertently gotten him into this mess.

"Nah. I got Dean to be my second, after promising to buy him a butterbeer on the next Hogsmeade visit. I figure Dean can take the guy in a hand-to-hand combat. And just in case, I asked Dennis to be my third. He may be small but he bites and scratches like a devil when he fights. You can be my fourth though, if you really want to. You would probably be pretty good at hair pulling."

"Yeah, sure." Ginny said, glad she would be able to relieve her guilt a little without actually having to do anything. And if worse came to worse, she was a hair pulling maniac, and her biting and scratching skills would probably put the youngest Creevey's to shame. One had to develop some skills when growing up with six older brothers.

"All right then, meet me at the Quidditch pitch at a quarter till twelve."

They finished their essays in silence. Eventually, Colin got up and left, presumably to prepare for the duel, and Ginny was left to burrow through her heaps of work alone. Several hours later, she shut her last book with a satisfyingly loud thump. She stretched leisurely, grinning with self-satisfaction. Once again she had conquered her abnormal amount of homework, despite her tendency to procrastinate.

She caught sight of the clock out of the corner of her eye and was shocked to see that it was almost midnight. The duel! If she ran up to the dormitories to put her books up and then down to the pitch, she could almost make it on time.

*****

Professor Sprout had unfortunately been rounding the corner just as Draco had exited the tower, which was technically off-limits to students, although Draco had always privately thought that the rules shouldn't apply to him. Professor Sprout naturally did not see things his way and, as a result, he was sentenced to spend the evening repotting Mandrakes.

The only good thing about the task is that it occupied most of his mind, and the rest he used imagining the Mandrakes to be different people that he hated that he was burying alive. He repotted Potter several times. By the time he was finished it was nearing midnight, Professor Sprout had fallen asleep and forgotten to tell him he could leave. He felt strangely refreshed as he headed back up to the castle from the greenhouses. The distraction had been petty and cruel, perfect for ridding him, if only temporarily, of the love that was slowly eating away at his heart.

He was on his way down to the dungeons when he spotted her sneaking down a side staircase, hugging the shadows in an attempt to avoid the teachers. She was obviously going outside, she had her cloak on--the hood hiding her vibrant hair. The nights were beginning to be chill, prematurely preparing for winter. Draco changed his path abruptly, turning back the way he had come. He swung his own cloak back over his shoulders and followed her out onto the grounds.

It was lucky that Draco had always had exceptional night vision. Perhaps it came from spending so much time in dungeons--the dungeons at Hogwarts and the dungeons at Malfoy Manor, where his father would lock him, sometimes for days on end, when he was displeased with him. He had never thought that he would be thankful for those dismal surroundings, but without them this might have been impossible. As it was, he could just barely make out the dark form picking its way blindly along the path in front of him, on this moonless night. If he could hardly see her, then there was no danger of her spotting him.

He allowed himself to steal much closer to her that he normally would have dared. He took care to make no sound as he crept along behind her, reveling in the nearness of her presence. There was a sudden crash and the figure before him disappeared from his view. A string of muttered curses, ending in a low moan, came from somewhere near the ground.

His heart clenched. Before he could stop himself, before he could tell himself that it was a bad idea, he had rushed over and was kneeling down beside her.

"Are you all right?" There was no danger in speaking--she wouldn't recognize his voice. They had never done more than exchange a few derisive taunts Besides, in the last year his voice had deepened and matured from his old childish sneer.

"Yeah, I'm fine," came the forced reply. Then, "No, no I'm not." It sounded like she was gritting her teeth with the pain. She must have really twisted something when she fell.

"Is it your ankle?" he asked, straining to keep his voice even. She grunted in the affirmative. "Here, let me help you."

When she didn't protest, he moved closer, his heart beating a thunderous tattoo on his ribcage. As carefully as he could, he placed her arm over his shoulders. Then wrapping his own arm around her slender waist, he lifted her to her feet. She was leaning heavily on his shoulder. Everywhere she touched him he seemed to almost vibrate with reaction. He had never touched her before...his whole body thrilled with the contact.

"Do you think you can walk on it?" he questioned. He could barely recognize his own voice, it was so gentle.

"I-I think so," she stammered, tentatively testing her foot on the ground.

"Okay then." He took a step forward. She tried to do the same, but as soon as she put her whole weight on her injured ankle, she let out an involuntary sob before passing out cold. Draco grunted as she went limp, the sudden increase of weight almost unbalancing him. "Ginny," he said, shaking her softly. "Ginny!"

She didn't respond. After a moment's deliberation, he bent and scooped her into his arms. Her arms slipped unconsciously around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder. A fire seemed to light inside his chest and he instinctively tightened his grip, pulling her closer.

*****

Ginny awoke once, briefly. The first thing she noticed, with some confusion, was that she was being carried. But the arms holding her were strong and sure, and she felt safe, so she relaxed, and didn't worry about it.

Intense pain shot through her leg when she tried to move her ankle, sending her back into darkness. Not before she had caught a glimpse of something silvery above her, however. But in her dazed state, she assumed it was the stars.

*****

It was fortunate that it was so late, Draco thought. The castle was deserted. There would be no need to make up awkward lies about why Draco Malfoy was carrying a Weasley. Still, there was always the chance that some stray student would be out wandering the halls. He stole hurriedly and soundlessly through the darkened castle to the hospital wing, clutching his precious burden protectively to his chest.

The hospital wing was blessedly empty. He laid her on the nearest bed with as much care as he, someone who had never showed care in his life, could manage. He was especially careful of her ankle, which was swollen to outstanding proportions and twisted at an angle Draco was sure could not be natural. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled sweetly at him, but he had already retreated into the shadows. She was not smiling at him.

With a bitter feeling he could not quite place twisting his insides, he headed back to the dark, lonely dungeons.