Broken

Chapter 4: Right and Wrong

She opens her eyes and smiles. Today is her date with Draco. She isn't exactly sure why, but her stomach is doing back flips. She chalks it up to nerves and hops out of bed, kneeling before her chest. She rummages through it for a few minutes, then pulls out a pair of dark jeans and a blue Muggle style shirt. She has arranged to meet Draco immediately after breakfast, so she doesn't have a lot of time. She dresses quickly, applying a lip reddening charm and the eye liner Hermione had given her for her birthday. When she enters the common room, it is empty. Pity, she thinks. I would have loved to see Harry goggling over me. But I suppose there will be plenty of time for that when he sees me with Draco.

She doesn't see Draco in the Great Hall. She stands in front of the door, tapping her foot impatiently. He better not be standing me up. He asked me out. She feels the warmth of arms wrapping around her waist. She rolls her eyes and breaks out of the strong grip. He smirks at her.

“Good morning, Virginia.”

“Draco.”

He stands back and hungrily takes in her appearance.“Looking stunning as always, I see.”

She shrugs, but can feel the heat rising to her face. No one has ever complimented her like that. And it was even more shocking to hear it from a Malfoy. “Shall we go then?”

He nods and offers her his arm. She hesitates before sliding her arm through his.

 

The Three Broomsticks is crowded with students, the air thick with mixed perfumes and shouted orders. She sits across from him at a corner table, sipping her Butterbeer. Over her glass, she can see him watching her intently, frowning slightly.

“Is something wrong?” she asks finally.

He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“You're staring at me,” she says airily. “And I know it's nothing wrong with me.”

He scowls at her. “Of course, because you know everything. Or at least you think you do.”

“No, but I know when someone is trying to avoid a topic.”

“Then let it drop.”

She sighs. “I'm afraid I can't do that.”

“Damn you,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What?” He meets her brown eyes, dancing with amusement.

“Damn you!” he shouts. He stands up, knocking his chair over.“You think you can read me like a fucking book!” She leans back to regard him, her carmine lips pressed into something resembling a pout. He continues in a softer, but no less hostile voice. “You want to figure me out? Huh? Well, let me save you some time. Your idiot brother and his friends are right about me, Red. I am fucking evil. I would kill you in a heartbeat and never even think twice.” He realizes two things then. One: the whole pub has turned to watch him, their eyes wide. Two: She is laughing, a high, clear sound tumbling from her full lips. He picks his chair up and sits back down.

“What the hell are you laughing at?”

“You are wrong, about so many things.”

He gives her a bewildered look.

“ One, I don't think I can read you. No one can. And, even if I want to, you can't say you don't want it as well. Two, I know that they were right about you. Why do you think I came to you for help with this? And three, you wouldn't hurt me.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because, you're not your father.”

She says this casually, as if it is the most obvious thing on earth, and he feels a strange feeling sweep through him. He can see her hand inching toward his, a slow smile spreading over her face–

“Ginny?!”

He almost groans out loud as an all too familiar voice cuts through the air. He sees her go rigid in her chair, all traces of a smile quickly fading from her face. In an instant, Potter is at their table, his bright eyes flashing with fury. He is quickly joined by Granger and Ginny's brother, Ron.

“Ginny, what the hell are you doing here with–with him?” Ron screeches. She glares at him before turning doe eyes on Harry. Draco tries to quell the sick churning in the pit of his stomach.

She expected anger. She anticipated disappointment. But the one thing she wasn't prepared for was the cold, detached rage visible on his face. He grabs her arm roughly.

“Come on, Ginny. Let's go.” His voice could cut steel.

“No, Harry. I want so stay. I'm sorry that I couldn't go with you, but Draco asked me first.” She speaks weakly, trying to pull herself free, but his grip is like iron. Ron and Hermione are apparently frozen to the spot, their eyes wide.

“Ginny, I don't think you heard me. Let's go.”

This is really beginning to scare her. She opens her mouth to refuse again, but no sound comes out. She closes her eyes against the forming tears, the pain in her arm growing more intense. Suddenly, she hears a rush of air, a gasp, and she is free.

She begins to walk away, but Harry catches his hand in her hair. She stumbles and falls, her head connecting with the floor. Ignoring the overwhelming dizziness, she opens her stinging eyes. Hermione is crying softly, Ron looking as though he might be sick. And on the floor, Harry has Draco pinned, punching him repeatedly in the face. He must hear her move, though, because his fist pauses in mid-air and he turns to look at her, his face splitting into a twisted grin. He steps away from Draco and advances on her.

He kneels beside her, running a hand softly down her cheek. She shudders and clenches her eyes shut. She is eleven years old again, locked in the dark chamber. His hand moves to the back of her neck. She waits and prays for it to be over. She feels a sharp pain as he slams the back of her head against the floor. Then again. She bites her tongue and feels blood filling her mouth. He is yelling at her, the words distant but still clear.

“You are a slut, Ginny! How could you do this to me?”

It continues for what feels like an eternity. She is getting very tired, her mind foggy. And then the darkness comes.