Moonlit Grounds

Chapter 1

"I'm fine. Please just stop it. I'm fine," she repeated again and again at the table over breakfast. Why wouldn't Ron leave her alone? Usually he didn't show this much concern. On her way out she bumped into a body, but she didn't dare look back. Looking back would mean half-hearted words of apology, and a trying grin.

Once she was able to slip off to her dormitory she checked her reflection in the mirror. Small bags under her eyes, face paler than usual; nothing too obvious. She went into the small bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. She shivered slightly, but took a deep breath and calmed herself. She was still shaking, probably from lack of sleep. She didn't mind though. Her nightly romps through the forest were well worth it.

"Ginny? Are you in there?" Ginny opened her eyes. She felt disoriented. Where was she? She felt panic set in. She shouldn't have lost time. How long had she been in there? What had happened? Why couldn't she remember? The last time she couldn't remember it was because of Riddle. No, it's not possible, Ginny thought. I would know.

"Ginny? You okay?" It was Hermione. A familiar voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be out in a second." She took a steadying breath and glanced at her reflection. She looked sick, but alive.

"Sorry I took so long. O.W.L.s are starting to stress me already," she said as she opened the door.

"Ginny, you weren't in there long. You had just gone in when I came up." Hermione looked worried. "But I understand that you're stressed about O.W.L.s. I guarantee though, that if you prepare you'll do smashing. I was very sad when last year ended, but at least I have N.E.W.T.s to look forward to! Feel free to ask me for help anytime. I'd be glad to have a study- buddy!"

Ginny was able to express her gratitude and then flee before Hermione had fully began on the art of studying.

Hermione had said that she hadn't been in the loo long at all. What did that mean? Had she just blacked-out? She supposed it was possible, after all, she hadn't gotten more than twelve hours of sleep throughout the entire week. She figured she could catch up that weekend. The rest of the day she participated in the normal routine. Eat, sit, listen, walk, smile.

***

In the Great Hall, the Slytherins were all speaking in hushed tones, as was the custom at that table. They all had their own agendas and couldn't afford for their secrets to be leaked out. Draco cast a cynical eye around the table. They all had absorbed the typical, expected Slytherin reputation. Which ones were true to this identity? Who was ready to serve the Dark Lord? He shook his head. None of them were. Who could ever be ready for such cruelty, such reckless malice?

He numbly rose from the table and headed to the doors. He almost bumped into another student on his way out. He gazed up and recognized a red head walking quickly ahead of him. He shouted out, "Watch it Weasel!" But she didn't seem to notice. Oh well, she never rose to his baits anyway.

In his dormitory he found himself thinking back to the figure on the grounds earlier that morning. However that also brought back memories of his frightening dream. He stared at the ceiling over his bed. Someday they would stop. Someday he wouldn't have to fear sleep. He hated thinking there would be a someday. He didn't believe in optimism. It was an emotion, a false feeling of security. Emotions made a man weak. He couldn't live with weakness. Or rather his father couldn't live with weakness, and so he would make sure that Draco was anything but.

Draco was trapped. He hated his father and he hated himself. Yet his family pride gave him selfish love for himself and the Malfoy name. He couldn't stand it. Something had to happen. His eyes remained glassy, but he couldn't let a single tear run down his cheek. He was a Malfoy after all.