Our Winter

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Chapter 2: A Diary in the Life

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The password to the Slytherin common room was rather easily obtained, Ginny found. A simple Polyjuice potion allowed her to transform into one of Pansy Parkinson's friends and accompany her back to the Slytherin tower when Pansy "forgot" her Divination scroll (Ginny had "borrowed" it from Pansy's large pack of books earlier in the day.). Having worn the awful girl's skin (she had a name like Vomit or Vile, and it was driving Ginny bonkers that she couldn't recall which) Ginny found herself taking an extra-long shower before she focused on supper for Draco.

'Supper' consisted of Ginny pinching off a bit of extra bangers and mash from the house elves. They were only too happy to accommodate her, and with the aid of her wand, she was able to keep the food hot while she washed the imagined Slytherin filth off her flesh.

Sneaking down the winding halls and up the disappearing staircases to the Slytherin tower was easier than she'd thought it would be. It seemed she was getting awfully good at going where she wasn't supposed to. Muttering the password as quietly as she could ("Superiority"), Ginny stuck her head through the portrait hole, carefully checking the room for Slytherin students not already down in the great hall. Finding the room deserted, Ginny climbed in and sped to the small table and chairs in the corner (most likely set up for chess games) and began arranging the food she'd brought along in her backpack.

There was something dreadfully imposing about being around so much Slytherin green. Her inner Gryffindor was cringing a bit. A grand portrait of Salazar Slytherin hung over the gently crackling fireplace and Ginny almost felt his eyes glare down at her.

"Something tells me you didn't make that yourself."

Jumping, Ginny covered her heart with her hand, attempting to school her features before she wheeled around at Malfoy.

"Must you always go skulking about?" she snapped. "I've half a mind to transfigure the tips of your ears into little bells."

"You know, you really don't act like a girl who wants me to do her a favor," he pointed out dryly.

"It's not like I'm asking you for a service," she protested.

"Well, I don't like my slaves to mouth off so much," he said snottily, sitting down at the table and spreading a napkin over his lap.

"Fine," Ginny declared primly, sitting opposite him. "You just have supper while I draw up our terms of agreement."

Out of Ginny's bag came a sheaf of parchment and a long quill.

"Item one," Ginny began, and the quill began copying down her words onto the parchment. Draco raised an eyebrow and Ginny shrugged. "Rita Skeeter's patent. I've been thinking about getting into journalism for awhile and Harry bought it for me last Christmas."

"'Harry bought it for me last Christmas,'" Draco mimicked as he speared a slice of sausage before dipping it in the potatoes until it was lightly coated. "It's sickening how besotted you are, you know. The whole school laughs at that dreamy look you follow Potter around with. Especially considering he's got that mouse Granger in his bed."

"Hermione is not a mouse," Ginny said angrily. "And I do not follow Harry around--" Her mouth pulled into tight line. "Item one: we refrain from insulting each other's friends."

"You can insult my friends," Draco said magnanimously. "I don't care."

"Item two," Ginny continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "No sex."

"I remember that one from earlier," Draco noted after he'd swallowed a mouthful of food. "I've been thinking it over, and it's just not going to work for me."

"Well, I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to make it work for you," Ginny blustered.

"If you want this whole thing to happen," Draco said in a silky voice, "you're the one who's going to have to make my desires work for you. That is, after all, the point, isn't it, Ms. Weasley?"

"I just . . . I can't do it, all right?" Ginny said, shifting in her seat. "I can't do that."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to do that. And good Christ, woman, just spit it out -- you can't stand the thought of having sex with me."

Ginny's gaze darted around the room frantically, as though a group of teachers were lurking behind every corner, waiting to pop out and screech "Sex! He said sex! What are you doing in this miscreant boy's chambers, young lady?!"

"All right," she hissed. "I can't stand the thought of having sex with you!"

"Then that makes two of us, because I bloody well can't stand the thought of having sex with you, either," he said, blotting his mouth with a napkin.

"Then why are we having this pointless--"

"Because I have needs," he informed her.

Now, it was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. "That is by far the stupidest bloody thing you could have said."

And then something happened. Whatever mercurial humor had been in Draco's eyes left, and all that remained was a chilling steel that made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up.

"Fine," he said at last. "I won't ask you for anything sexual, Ms. Weasley. But by the end of this, you can be sure you'll wish I had."

Once again, Ginny found herself in the unenviable position of shifting nervously in her seat. She began chewing on the tip of her thumbnail. What could he possibly make her do that was worse than having -- with him! Surely there couldn't be . . . but then, he was a Malfoy. There were stories of all the servants who had gone mad working for Lucius Malfoy. Had Draco inherited all of his father's cruelty, and then some?

"Well," she began hesitantly, "maybe . . . that is to say, perhaps I was a bit too hasty."

The quill paused in midair, and began backtracking over what it had just written. Ginny wanted to curse aloud. If the magical quill and parchment had sensed her backpedaling like a ninny, there was no way Draco had missed it.

"Were you?" Draco asked smoothly.

"A compromise, then," Ginny declared, trying to regain some sense of inner poise. "No conventional sex, but, should the need arise," her cheeks flushed when she realized what she'd just implied, but she forged ahead, "sexual favors may be exchanged in future."

"Excellent," Draco agreed, pushing his plate back.

"You ate that too fast," Ginny pointed out automatically, chastising him as she would Harry or Ron.

"So sorry, mother," Draco said mockingly.

"Item three," Ginny said through gritted teeth, "when--"

"Say, how did you get the password?" Draco asked, having no regard for what she'd been about to say.

Heaving a sigh, Ginny sat back and folded her arms, deciding she'd best get used to his total disregard for her feelings or opinions. That was, after all, what any good slave would do.

"Polyjuice potion," Ginny admitted. "I turned myself into that nit Pansy's best friend."

Draco's brows drew together. "You mean Vilonna?"

"Vilonna!" Ginny cried triumphantly. "I knew it was something like Vomit or Vile."

It seemed to her that Draco almost cracked a grin at this, but before either of them could say anything further, the sound of voices could be heard outside the portrait hole.

"Someone's coming," Ginny hissed, snatching the parchment and quill up and stuffing it down into her backpack.

"I'd hide behind the curtains," Draco said lazily, indicating the long green draperies near the portrait hole.

Unwilling to argue and having no better idea of her own, Ginny darted over to them, barely concealing herself before the common room filled with loud, raucous conversation.

A group of seventh years sat together in the corner, obviously attempting the grueling task of studying for N.E.W.T.s. Draco sat still and Ginny wondered why he didn't feel the need to study. He got fair marks in most of his classes, she knew, except for Herbology, and he got far above average marks in Potions. Hermione was the only student who performed consistently better.

Yet he didn't have a reputation for being a brain, nor was he thought stupid (well, other than Ron) by his peers. His only friends seemed to be Crabbe and Goyle, and they barley possessed the intelligence to dress themselves in the morning, let alone get decent marks in school. But for some reason, they would follow Malfoy to the ends of the earth if he asked. Most of the other Slytherin students were the same, and Ginny just couldn't bring herself to believe it was all due to Lucius Malfoy's influence.

There was just something about Draco, a lazy arrogance that commanded attention and made it hard to believe there was anything in his life that challenged him. From her place behind the curtain, Ginny was afforded an unobstructed view of him and, for the first time, he couldn't catch her looking. His profile was toward her, the firelight dancing behind him, causing his moonlight hair to fairly glow.

Now that she found herself faced with the prospect of being in close proximity with him for the next month, Ginny was fascinated with what made Draco Malfoy tick. Normally, sneer firmly in place, Draco inspired nothing more in her than her total loathing. But as she watched him now, his profile lowered, cast in an almost ethereal (or perhaps malevolent, Ginny! Do try to remain an uninterested third party) glow, she wondered if perhaps it was something other than evil that had shaped the man he was growing into.

The spiteful little boy he'd been would never have agreed to their bargain, no matter what he was getting out of it. The prospect of humiliating her in front of the entire school would have been too grand to pass up, and he would have done so by telling everyone who'd listen about the stupid, poor little Weasley girl who'd begged to let her serve him.

In the last two years, however, Draco had changed. There were no choirs of angels surrounding him or anything, no halo over his head, crooked or otherwise, but he certainly wasn't as single-mindedly devoted to making others' lives miserable. The Whoremione barb was the first he'd sent Hermione's way in ages, Ginny realized. And really, it wasn't nearly up to his usual standards. Plus, the only time he and Ron and Harry seemed to fight anymore was when the entire school got in the middle of it, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Even then, it seemed to have the air of healthy competition, boys will be boys and all that. Professor McGonagall had even commented on it, Ginny remembered, during a conversation she'd overheard between the elder witch and Professor Dumbledore after breaking up a tussle Ginny had been caught in the middle of.

As though he sensed her scrutiny, Draco's head snapped up and he stared at the curtains. He couldn't see her, she knew, but that didn't help her riotous heart stop beating so fast. She just had to get out of this horrible room before her heart exploded, or she let out a squeal, or did something equally stupid to draw attention to herself.

Draco rose from his seat and moved to the window by the painting. His face was nearly close enough to touch the glass and she realized he could see her in his peripheral vision that way.

"Some of them won't be in bed for hours now," he said quietly. "Blaise and Jasper stay up well into the night."

"Jasper," she snickered quietly.

"Hush," he warned, though she almost thought his mouth was slightly curved.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Ginny compulsively clenched and unclenched her fists around the backpack. There was no way she'd get out of here without being seen. She was going to sneeze or something and everyone would look her way and someone would rip the curtains down and point at her and call Professor Snape in to discipline the Gryffindor spy in their midst and he would take one thousand points from Gryffindor and Ginny will be single-handedly responsible for losing Gryffindor the House Cup and Draco would tell them all why she was there and the whole school will laugh at her for the rest of term, and all of next year, and she wouldn´t get into the Order because she couldn't even do this one simple thing for them--

"You owe me one," Draco said ominously, just barely glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Then, louder, he said, "Come have a look at this!"

Then, he stepped to the left of the window, pressed up against her curtain-covered body so that the rest of the Slytherin students had no choice but to move to Draco's right to see out the window.

"What is it?" Blaise Zabini asked.

"Do you not see that great hulking git?" Draco asked. Ginny was fairly certain he was referring to Hagrid. "He's moving those foul-smelling beasts out into the open pen. I'd wager we'll have to pet them or learn to ride them or open free trade negotiations or some rot tomorrow."

All the Slytherin students seemed to be dreading this, and they started fighting and poking at one another to get a better look out the window. When Ginny didn't make a move to leave, Draco kicked her shin. Ginny was extraordinarily proud of herself for holding in a scream. Taking a deep breath, Ginny darted out from beneath the curtain and slipped through the portrait hole. She never looked back, but since several dozen Slytherins didn't start a hot pursuit, and no irate teachers came to pull her out of bed in the middle of the night, she assumed her visit to the Slytherin common room had gone undetected.

Her dreams might have been filled with visions of Draco Malfoy in compromising and confusing situations, her subconscious turning over all the things that might have shaped the boy into the burgeoning man. They might have been; because she didn't need those sorts of distractions, Ginny decided not to sleep at all.

Even though she barely understood a word of her classes the next day, she knew the peace of mind was worth it.

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Here we are. First diary entry since entering into pact with The Devil, AKA, Draco Malfoy. Didn't sleep a wink the last two nights and promptly passed out tonight. Woke up an hour ago in blinding panic, having to record unsettling dream down on paper. Have desperately missed talking to someone who will understand, though am sincerely hoping won't talk back. Please, please, please don't start talking back.

Just spent five minutes staring at blank page, unable to compose my thoughts. Can't even mention dream out loud, let alone write it down. Will try again later in the week. Have a sewing assignment from that toad Malfoy. Sewing. And he forbade me to use my wand! Arrgghh!

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