A Chance To Mend

Chapter 3: Haunted

Th next morning, I wake up to realize that I fell asleep still fully dressed, and that my clothes are now severely wrinkled. I take them off and cast a smoothing charm over them before pulling out a new outfit. Amazingly, the shirt is one of my few that is not black. Instead, it is a gray that almost matches my eyes. I take my time, stalling as long as humanly possible, before finally giving up and going down to breakfast. Blaise is sitting by herself, her eyes downcast and her chin in her hand, completely neglecting the bowl of porridge in front of her. I hesitate for a moment before sliding into the seat across from her. She doesn’t look up at me, but mumbles a hello.

After a few moments of silence, and after I begin to drum my fingertips on the table, I rack my brain for something casual to say. Finally I settle on, "Nice weather, isn’t it?"

"Mmm," Blaise replies.

I sigh and bring my fist down on the table top. She glances up at me.

"I’m sorry," I say between gritted teeth.

"Are you?" She arches an eyebrow.

"I said I was, didn’t I?" I answer angrily. " Damn it, you’re impossible. Just like–" I break off, my eyes widening. I almost said ‘Ginny’. Almost.

I see the scowl drop from Blaise’s face as she regards me with something like pity. I hate pity, no less coming from her.

 "Don’t look at me like that," I snap.

 She nods in understanding. "I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said anything about the spell until I was sure."

I sigh again. "She’s gone. She’s really gone. And it’s all my fault."

"Draco, no," she says, shaking her head, but I continue as if she hasn’t spoken.

"I’ve never really felt guilty for anything in my life. But this . . . this is killing me. I should have done something."

"You did all that you could," Blaise says softly, her voice thick. I look down at my hands.

"What if– What if she thinks I abandoned her?" I look back up at Blaise, who looks on the verge of tears. "I had a dream last night, and she was there. Like she is every night. Only . . . this time was different. She was there, and she asked me why I didn’t help her."

I close my eyes, images from the dream flashing behind my eyelids and Ginny’s breaking voice filling my ears. I don’t explain the part about Potter, or my father. The messages were pretty much the same. When I finally open my eyes again, Blaise puts her hand over mine.

"Draco, it is not your fault. You have to accept that."

I try to focus on her words but Potter’s words are haunting me.

"You might as well have been the one that strangled her. Yes, I was the one whose hands took her life. But I was acting under a potion. What excuse do you have?"

Feeling sick, I stand up and gather my books.

"Draco, where are you going?"

Unable to find my voice, I shake my head and walk as quickly as I can away from the table, careful not to look at the Gryffindors, or think about the one who should be sitting there, and isn’t.

*

The rest of the day goes by in a haze. Potions is eerily quiet, as it has been since Ginny’s death cast its shadow over most of Gryffindor house. Granger’s hands stay folded on the table in front of her, no longer shooting up as soon as a question is asked. Ron is beside her but may as well be miles away. Snape has become less strict, even a tad sympathetic, towards them. He goes on with his in depth discussion on sleeping potions, occasionally getting help from a few ambitious Slytherins. I could not tell you what we talked about in Transfiguration or History of Magic. By then my thoughts are entirely elsewhere. If McGonagall notices she doesn’t say anything. And Professor Binns wouldn’t notice if a student performed an Unforgivable in the middle of a lesson.

Wanting to get a class summary from Blaise, I force myself to go to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Hello, Blaise," I say, sitting down across from her.

"You need my notes, don’t you?"

I nod. "I was a little . . . out of it."

"I noticed," she replies wryly, but hands me a small stack of parchments. The notes are neat and organized, as always. This is far from the first time I have needed them.

"Thanks," I say, and move to stand up.

"Where do you think you’re going?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Back to the dungeons."

She leans across the table and pulls me back down by my wrist. "Oh no you don’t." She points at my now full plate. "Eat."

Her voice leaves no room for disagreement. I pick up my fork and give her a scathing look. "Alright, mother."

She chuckles as I take a bite of potato and give her my sweetest smile.

"Whatever you say," she says amiably. "As long as you eat."

*

Somehow, Blaise convinces me to stay up and play Exploding Snap with her. I find myself actually laughing when she asks, with a grave expression, whether I think Snape wears boxers of briefs.

"That’s an easy one," I reply, deadpan. "He prefers boxers, especially ones that sing."

She raises one eyebrow. "And how would you know?"

"Isn’t it obvious? He and I are having a steamy love affair. Have been for months now. "

She giggles madly, but her laughter becomes a yawn.

"Tired?" I ask.

"Just a tad."

"Well, it’s nearly two in the morning, so it’s not all that surprising."

Her eyes widen in panic. "Two?? Oh no! We have classes in only a few hours! Oh, I have to go to bed, Draco. I’m sorry."

With that, she races up the steps to her dorm. The common room is empty, and far too quiet. I stay for a few more minutes before returning to my room.

It is pitch black. I pull out my wand and point it in the direction of the overhead lights. The flicker, then begin to glow. I shrug out of my school robes, kick off my boots, and undress. When I walk to the bed, however, I find someone sitting on it.

I must be making a mistake. But as I step closer, I see that I am not. The hair is unmistakable, as is the ivory skin and light sprinkling of freckles. My heart catches in my throat and, inexplicably, tears spring to my eyes. The figure turns to face me and I find myself staring into a pair of endless brown eyes.

"Ginny?"