Jigsaw

Chapter 11: Shame

She strolls into the common room, a genuine smile lighting her pretty face. She is walking up the spiral staircase to her dormitory when a familiar voice stops her.

"Afternoon, Gin."

She stops on the steps and smiles down at him. "Afternoon, Harry."

"Did you come in last night?"

"No," she says smoothly. "I was out late studying and fell asleep in the library."

"Really?"he asks, raising one eyebrow. "Then why did Draco Malfoy walk you to the portrait?"

Heat rushes to her face. Why are you blushing, Ginevera? You’ve done nothing wrong.

"I – Erm – "

"What are you doing hanging around with him?"

"I’m not ‘hanging around–"

"You weren’t at lunch yesterday, or dinner. You missed breakfast this morning and Colin says you weren’t in Potions or Transfiguration."

"You know, Harry," she says angrily, crossing her arms over her chest." With all the tabs you’re keeping on me, it seems a lot like stalking."

"He’s evil, Ginny."

"Yeah," she replies coolly. "He is."

"Then why would you –" He breaks off, pacing angrily at the foot of the stairs, his brilliant green eyes narrowed. He stops and looks her in the eye. "What would Ron think?"

She blanches, her arms falling uselessly at her sides. She swallows bile. "How dare you," she says through clenched teeth. "How dare you bring him into this."

"He hates Malfoy. You know that! And with good reason! All Malfoy has ever done is torture you and your family! If you become friends with him, or worse, if you become more than friends with him, you are insulting Ron’s memory. And being involved with Malfoy makes you lower than low."

She opens and closes her mouth, at a loss for what to say under his angry, scrutinizing glare.

Slowly, a heavy weight falls onto her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. The room seems to be getting smaller and smaller, and her head is spinning.

Reminded suddenly of the razor that is still in her pocket, she does the only thing that makes sense.

She runs.

---

Draco takes his usual seat at the front of the Slytherin table for dinner, but keeps his eyes trained on the other end of the hall.

He has been watching her long enough to know where she sits. Right behind that mousy-haired, totally annoying camera-head Creevey.

But she isn’t there.

He turns his focus to the great oak doors, sure that any minute she will come striding through them.

But as dinner passes, as the course appear and disappear onto the platters, she doesn’t come.

So, when his house mates are heading back to the common room, he begins to walk in the opposite direction. Towards Gryffindor tower.

Pansy Parkinson catches his arm and pulls him into a corner.

"Draco, honey," she coos, flashing him a blinding white smile. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Pansy, darling," he says in a mockingly sweet voice. "You exist to look pretty. When you start asking questions, it just complicates matters. And we all know complexity can be confusing for girls like you."

She folds her arms over her chest and regards him coldly, her smile turning sardonic. "You’re looking for that Weasley brat, aren’t you?"

"What makes you think that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, act dumb Draco. But everyone saw you leading her into your room last night. You never did perfect the art of stealth. One aspect of your training that you are weak in."

She sighs and begins examining her pink polished nails. "So, why are you looking for her? It’s not like you to go back for seconds."

He shoots her a glare.

"Oh, what? You don’t actually like her, do you Drakie? Because that would be just pathetic."

"Have you gotten rid of your hot air yet, Parkinson? Because I have something I have to do."

She doesn’t respond, and he storms away.

"Well, it looks like it’s worse," she says to the hallway. "You don’t like her, Drakie. You love her."