Jigsaw

Chapter 6: The Confrontation

She jumps in surprise at the voice, her heart hammering against her chest. She looks wildly around, and then her gaze falls on the door, where Draco Malfoy is standing, a nasty sneer on his aristocratic face.

Oh, fuck.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, furiously wiping tears from her face. She tries to sound angry but just sounds scared.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

She narrows her eyes. "That’s none of your business."

"I’m a prefect. So, yes, it actually is my business."

"Oh, take your prefect badge and shove it," she says, sniffling and snatching her robes up from beside her. She stands and begins to put them on, when he catches sight of her arm.

It is covered in red cuts. Some healed, some still open and bleeding. Some wide, some thin, but all deep.

He steps forward, closer to her. When he speaks, his voice is softer. "What did you do?"

She pulls on her robes and brushes her hair back over her shoulder. "Nothing."

"Those aren’t nothing."

She sighs loudly and makes for the door. He grabs her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she wriggles free of his grasp and he finds that he is in a mild state of shock.

He lets her go.

--

She walks with angry steps back to Gryffindor tower. The weight on her chest is almost crippling now. She feels more fear than she thinks she should.

But Malfoy knows. He knows her secret.

No, he doesn’t know anything. He just thinks he does.

But still, I have to be more careful from now on.

Chapter 7: Cryptic Wisdom

"Hey there, Red."

Ginny rolls her eyes at the familiar voice. "I thought I told you to go away."

She practically hears him smirking. "No, you said no such thing."

She doesn’t look up from the book in her lap. "Well, then, I’m saying it now. Go away."

"No can do."

She sighs loudly, a frustrated sound, and closes her book. Draco sees the title The Works of Edgar Allen Poe in bold, black letters against the red leather cover.

"Who is Edgar Allen Poe?" he asks.

"A Muggle poet."

He makes a face. "You read Muggle nonsense?"

"It’s not nonsense. Far from it. It’s . . . well, it’s hard to explain."

"Well," he says cheerfully, "I didn’t come here to debate reading material."

"Then what did you come here for? I’m sure it can do nothing for your reputation to be seen with a Gryffindor. Better yet, a Weasley."

"You know why I’m here," he says, his voice no longer light.

"Nope," she says, reopening the book and turning her attention to the pages. "No idea."

He snatches the book out of her hands and grabs her shoulders. "Don’t play dumb with me, Weasley."

She angrily pushes his hands off of her. "Why do you even care?"

"I’m not sure," he replies uncertainly, frowning slightly. "But the point is that I do."

She stands up then, brushing dirt off of her jeans. "Well don’t. It will get you nowhere."

And she walks away, leaving him with the book in his hand. and a frown on his aristocratic face.

--

"Ginny," comes a breathless voice beside her.

She pauses in mid-step and turns to see none other than Harry Potter standing there.

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him appraisingly. He flushes slightly under her gaze.

"I was just, erm . . ." he looks down at his feet, then back at her, straightening his glasses. "Was Malfoy bothering you back there? Because if he was, I can take care of him. I could really jinx him proper."

She can’t help but smile at his grim concern, and she hides the grin behind her hand.

When she finally fixes her features into a straight face, she says," It’s ok. I’ve got it under control."

And, for the second time that day, she walks away, leaving a confused boy in her wake.

--

Later that night, in Professor Vector’s room, an exhausted and teary-eyed Ginny hears the door open. She frowns at the floor as Draco strides in, his very manner of walking speaking of a purpose that she knows but chooses to ignore.

"Go away," she mutters angrily.

But, instead of leaving, he kneels in front of her. He picks up the razor from the floor beside her.

"Strange, isn’t it?" he says, turning it over between his thumb and index finger and regarding it with a calm expression. "How powerful a tiny piece of steel can be. How comforting."

She glances up at him, her tear stained face twisted in confusion.

"It seems like it can fix all your problems. After all, how much harm can something that small do?"

"What?" she sputters, "How do you –"

He raises his eyes to meet hers, brown locking with cold grey.

"But it is far from harmless. It will tear your world apart. Slowly, but surely, it will."

He holds out his hand, offering the blade to her.

"Think about that," he says, as she wraps her fingers around it once more.