Caught In The Middle

Chapter 4 - Memories, Stares, and Teenage Angst

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

~Easier To Run - Linkin Park

Ginny's summer, which had been going well, suddenly turned into a hellish nightmare. Harry, who because of his relief over getting away from the Dursleys had been so cheerful and, well, normal the first few days at the Burrow, fell into a dark mood. He began to block everyone out. His face had clouded over, he never smiled anymore, and Ginny sorely missed talking to him. It seemed that Harry didn't want to talk anymore, not even to Ron and Hermione, who he only occasionally conversed with. For the most part, he locked himself into Ron's room and brooded over not-so-happy things. Ginny desperately wanted to help him, maybe to say something to him to make him feel better. She had confidence in Harry and was convinced that he would sort out his depression by himself, so for the most part she did not interfere.

Ginny had even come across him one day when she was walking to her room after dinner, which Harry had decided to skip. She had passed by Ron's room when she heard it. It sounded like sniffling and what seemed suspiciously like an unsuccessful attempt to stifle a sob. Ginny had almost dashed into the room to see what was wrong. In fact, her hand was hovering over the doorknob as she debated what to do. In the end she decided to not do anything at all. After all, he probably just wanted to be alone; why else would he have tried stifling his sobs?

But higher on her list of worries was a certain frustrating, pale blonde Slytherin git.

That night when she had encountered him while on a mission to calm her growling stomach was the last night she ever spoke to him. Like Harry, he had completely blocked her out. She had tried unsuccessfully many times to strike up a conversation with the bewildering blonde. But alas, all of her attempts were futile and she had eventually stopped trying. However, unlike Harry, Malfoy had taken up the nasty and very unnatural habit of staring at Ginny. Whenever she saw him, his intimidating grey eyes were intently focused on her. His stare was unwavering and unrelenting.

It was as if he thought that if he stared at her long enough he would be able to see her soul, her very essence, and would be able to read her precious thoughts, which she kept so heavily guarded. And Ginny began to believe that it was true, that he could see her soul and could read her thoughts. For he stared at her hour upon hour as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world, which she knew for a fact she was not. Ginny hated the feeling of his malicious eyes boring into her and knew he was well aware of it. Yet he never ceased from the unnerving activity.

Much to her dismay, Draco had even started to join them sporadically for dinner. The first few days he had done so everyone was jumpy and the atmosphere was tense. The air had been heavy with unease. But he had been so silent and had made himself appear so minuscule that everyone had resumed their normal acts. They no longer even noticed his presence. Everyone, that was, except for Ginny. She was still aware of him and his God-forsaken bloody stare. It appalled her that no one else had noticed. How could they not? He rarely ever touched his food; instead he simply leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands and stared at her. He wasn't even discreet. It was quite obvious, it really was. Only Ginny seemed to notice and it was driving her insane...

But highest on her list were her increasing nightmares. She had thought they had ended, but they had returned. She dreamed of Tom, dreamed that he had come back for her. They didn't seem like dreams - they were so real! She could practically feel his breath on her neck and hear his whispers in her ear. Ginny would often wake in the middle of the night dripping in cold sweat. She wanted the dreams to stop - she thought they would end if she just tried to get over the incident. She tried to forget it all, tried to pretend it never happened. But as soon as she closed her eyes at night, the leering face of Tom Marvolo Ridddle haunted her, and his voice echoed throughout her dreams all night...

---

Draco Malfoy scolded himself. He couldn't believe he had let Ginny affect him so much. He was a Malfoy, dammit! And she - she was just a little Weasley. She meant nothing to him. Nothing. She was just a stupid little girl, Potter obsessed and so damn ignorant. She didn't know how the world was.

He had been foolish in thinking that she might know what he was going thorough. How could she? She had everything in the world, well everything except money. Had her family possessed money, they would be perfect. They loved each other. Love. It was a foreign word to him. What was love? How did it feel to be loved? Draco didn't know. Probably never would.

Her world was full of sunshine and love. It made him sick. She didn't know what pain was. Wouldn't even be able to fathom what his life had been like. It was horrible -- a daily nightmare. There hadn't been a day when he didn't feel afraid. So when he was given the chance to get out, he took it without even giving it thought, without even once looking back.

Now he doubted his choice. He was no longer sure it had been the right decision. Every day a million questions ran through his mind. Was his life any better now than it had been before? Did his father know? Where was his father? How was his father? What would the rest of the Slytherins think about his decision? Would they scorn him? Would they think him a traitor?

But the question that haunted him night and day concerned the only person he had ever loved. What happened to his mother? Mother. The only person he cared for - the only person that had cared for him. She didn't judge him. She once loved him for who he was. Something his father could not understand. He hated her unconditional love for Draco - You're making the boy weak, Narcissa! He used to shriek whenever she hugged, kissed, or soothed him from nightmares and pain.

And then she just stopped. She had stopped loving him. She became distant and always seemed to look very tired. Draco knew it had something to do with his father. He had probably scared her into submission, probably threatened to hurt her or Draco if she didn't. That's how he was. He was all threats. All he really needed was his voice. He simply threatened people with his menace and the promise of pain, and they submitted to him like little children. It was sickening. Draco knew he had partly inherited his father's intimidating voice. People were frightened of him just like they were frightened by his father...just like Father...

That was another reason he had left. He didn't want to end up like his father. Kowtowing to a half-blood. Yes, Draco knew that the Dark Lord was only a half-blood. He wasn't sure how he had found out, but it must have been in his younger years, when he had been so eager to be like his father, and used to eavesdrop on all of his meetings. His father had been better at teaching Draco the importance of being a Pureblood than he knew. The fact had been engraved into him. When he first found out, he had brushed it aside; it was unimportant. After all, Father followed the Dark Lord, so it must not matter. But as he grew older, he began to question his father's ideals. If he followed a half-blood, then why did he preach the superiority of Purebloods? His father was a hypocrite. He didn't even follow his own principles.

That had been a turning point for Draco. After that, he lost most of his respect for his father. He never really had faith in him or his decisions. He questioned everything his father did. And one day he had even made the mistake of voicing his concerns. It hadn't been a pretty sight. Lucius Malfoy was known for his temper, but not even Draco knew how quickly and violently it could explode. One moment he was calmly sitting in his chair listening to his only son speak, the next moment he had pinned Draco against the wall and was seething. His father didn't answer any of his questions. He didn't tell him why he followed a half-blood, or if pureblood was really superior. He just hissed at him, saying that if he ever questioned him again he would be sorry he had ever been born. That was the last straw.

Draco had brooded over these things for several days, but it had been too much. Eventually he had convinced himself that sitting around in his room - Ginny's room - stewing all day wasn't healthy. So he had picked up a hobby, something that would take his mind off of things. He didn't know when he had started it; all he knew was that it was the most amusing thing ever. What he did was stare - stare at the little Weasley girl until she went mad. It was really quite entertaining.

He loved watching her reactions. At the beginning she had been bewildered and tried to pretend that she hadn't noticed his eyes following her every move. Then she became frustrated. She would look at him in confusion and then look around to see if anyone else had noticed. Now she just got mad. She would scrunch up her face, ball up her fists, and once in a while would stare back at him in defiance. But her will power was nowhere near Draco's and she would eventually be forced to look away.

---

Draco Malfoy had been dreading this day. He stared at the scarlet train. He would have given anything to be anywhere but here. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts, he didn't want to be the person everybody was going to pity, and he most definitely did not want to see any of the Slytherins again. He could only imagine what they would do. He stored his trunk and then entered the train. The majority of his housemates either pretended that he didn't exist or threw him scathing glares. He eventually found a compartment where he would be safe.

The only occupants were Pansy Parkinson, who, despite what he had done still seemed to worship the ground he walked on, and Blaise Zabini, whose family, though perfectly Slytherin, were not associated with the Dark Lord.

"Draco!" screeched Pansy, "Oh, I'm so glad you're all right! I was so worried..."

"Worried? Worried about what?" snapped Draco, slipping into the seat opposite of Blaise, who was smirking.

"Someone's pissy," commented Blaise, smirking.

Draco turned to the dark-haired boy and was about to make a nasty reply, when Pansy cut him off.

"Draco, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing is wrong, Pansy," he replied, dully.

"Are you sure? How was your summer? ... Have you talked to your father?"

That was it. She had touched a nerve. "Will you just shut up, Pansy? Your incessant questioning is giving me a headache!"

Draco immediately regretted what he had said. Pansy's blue eyes opened wide and she turned away from him and began talking to Blaise. Draco shouldn't have been so irritated - what did he expect; obviously people were going to ask questions. And alienating one of his few friends wasn't exactly the best thing to do.

"So," said Blaise, obviously tired of Pansy's chattering, "How was your summer? ... I heard you had to stay with the Weasleys..."

Pansy gasped. "The Weasleys? You had to stay with the likes of them...oh, how awful!" she exclaimed dramatically.

Draco snorted, but decided to make conversation anyway, "It was hell...even worse because the Dream Team stayed over, too...but it wasn't Potter who got on my nerves - he was quiet, kept to himself- it was that stupid Weasley girl. I swear if there was a Most Annoying Person Award, she would win it!"

"Oh, you mean Ginny, that fifth year... she's quite a Quidditch player," Blaise said thoughtfully.

"I don't care if she can play Quidditch ...she's still one obnoxious kid!" Draco exclaimed.

"Speaking of Quidditch, are you still playing?" asked Blaise, who wasn't on the Quidditch team, but was nonetheless fascinated with the sport.

"I don't think so...I think I'll just give it a rest this year," said Draco, leaning back in his chair.

"You don't mean that!" said Pansy, who was clearly shocked.

"Too bad, 'cause I'm the new Quidditch commentator...Lee Jordan graduated last year, and they gave me the role," said Blaise smugly.

"Thank God! I hated that stupid, biased asshole," Draco said savagely.

"Oh, I can't wait to see the expressions on the faces of the Dream Team when they find out that the commentator isn't one of their precious Gryffindors!" shrieked Pansy, smiling evilly.

"That has to be the smartest thing you've said today," said Draco, "They'll probably protest and run off to McGonagall or Dumbledore."

"Nope, they can't this time- Dumbledore appointed me himself," said Blaise, smirking.

Draco grinned; perhaps this year wouldn't be so bad after all...

---

Ginny sighed as she entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. She looked up at the gleaming, scarlet train and watched the smoke billow into the sky. Everyone seemed so excited to be there. First years chattered nervously with their parents, while the returning students ran to find their friends. All she could hear were the laughs and squeals of eager students and the stern reminders of parents. But Ginny didn't join in. She stood by herself and continued to watch the smoke curl up and disappear into the sky.

"Ginny?" asked a worried voice from behind her.

Ginny tore her eyes away from the smoke and turned around. Bill was standing behind her with a very concerned look etched upon his face.

"Hey," she said softly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Ginny looked up at him and gave him a weak smile before replying, "Nothing...I'm just going to miss you all..."

"Don't worry, I'll send owls...lots of owls. And so will the twins - right, Fred?" asked Bill, turning to Fred and George who had been whispering to each other.

"Yeah! 'Course we will! Besides, we still need someone to test our new products on!" exclaimed Fred, who was grinning mischievously at Ginny.

"Oh, Fred! When will you two grow up?" asked Ginny as the twins pulled her into a hug.

Fred and George eventually ran off to try and make some sales before the train left and Ginny was left with Bill.

"Don't you worry about us, okay Gin?" he asked. Ginny nodded, but she knew she would worry anyway.

"All right then, let's get your things put away," he said, reaching for her trunk.

"Oh Bill, I can do it myself, you know!" she exclaimed, trying to act annoyed, "I'm not a little girl!"

Bill laughed, "Come on Gin - what are older brothers for? If I were the youngest I wouldn't hesitate to force everyone else to do things for me!"

"All right, you go ahead!" she said giving in, "I'm going to say bye to Mum and Dad."

Ginny raced across the platform trying to find her parents. It took her some time to get through the crowds, but she soon found them. They seemed to be giving the trio their annual 'do try to stay out of trouble' speech. She waited until they were done, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione had boarded the train to talk.

"Mum, Dad!"

"Ginny, there you are! Come give me a hug," her mother demanded. Ginny smiled and willingly obliged. She then gave her dad a hug and her mum began to cry.

"My little girl's all grown up!" she said between sobs.

"Oh Mum! Don't you worry, I'll always be your little girl!" she exclaimed.

"Well, you'd best board the train," said her mum, rubbing her eyes with a worn handkerchief.

"And do try to keep an eye on your brother," commented her father.

"I'll try my best ..." she said as she boarded the train. But before she disappeared into the crowd she looked around for Bill. She spotted him making his way to their parents, waving. She waved back and then began turning away when she saw him.

There was a flash of bright red curls bobbing up and down in the crowd. The person was running, as if his life counted on it. He was pushing people out of his way, when Ginny caught sight of his face. A long nose, freckles, and very familiar brown eyes...Charlie?!? Could it be him? Her heart began to beat faster and faster as she craned her neck to get a better look. What was he doing here? Ginny suddenly grabbed the train door and pulled it open, she was about to jump out when the train gave a whistle, and the door automatically closed.

"No!" she screamed, "Open, open! Please!" She desperately tried to pull open the door, but it remained firmly closed. She looked out the window and frantically began searching for the familiar glint of red hair. But he seemed to have disappeared, and so had Bill, Mum, and Dad. They had all just been there moments ago, waving goodbye to her! Where could they have all gone?

Ginny sunk to the floor and sighed heavily. Had she been seeing things? Was she so desperate to see her brother that her mind had begun playing tricks on her? No! She had seen him! He was as real as the cold floor she was sitting on. She had seen him. But what was he doing here? He seemed to have been running towards Bill. Perhaps, he needed to contact him for the Order?

Ginny scrambled to her feet, and ran into the corridor, nearly knocking down a petrified first year. She didn't stop to apologize, but kept moving down the hall. She needed to find Ron. He should know what she had seen. And perhaps he knew why Charlie had been there...after all, he was best friends with Harry, who told him everything he knew.

Ginny found them on her fifth try. She pulled open the compartment door, praying that this was the one. Sure enough, it was. Harry was sitting in the corner, staring outside. Neville sat next to him, looking very nervous. And Luna Lovegood sat across him, chatting animatedly, obviously unaware of the tense situation. But, Ron, along with Hermione, wasn't there.

"Umm, Harry?" she called.

He pulled his eyes away from the window and looked at her, but said nothing.

"Do you...happen to know where Ron is? I really need to talk to him," she said in a hurried voice.

"He has Prefect duties," said Harry dully as he turned back to the window.

Ginny's heart sunk; there would be no way to get Ron alone long enough to tell him what he had seen, not until they reached Hogwarts at least. She sighed and took a seat next to Luna, all the time reliving, in her mind, what she had seen.