Our Winter

~

Chapter 3: Something Wicca This Way Comes

~

The next morning as the other girls in the Gryffindor common room began to stir, Ginny opened her eyes, having been awake for nearly an hour. She'd spent the entire night fretting about everything from Ron's (and, most likely, Harry and Hermione's) discovery of her pact with Draco, to Draco himself, who was most likely still put out with her over what he'd overheard her say to Ron.

Ginny went through the motions of dressing and fixing her hair (which consisted of strapping the sides back with sturdy black barrettes, letting the rest fall around her shoulders in a riotous mass) before, with a sigh, she trudged down the long staircase that would take her to breakfast in the Great Hall.

As she passed by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, however, Ginny was distracted by what sounded like two girls sobbing. Edging her way inside, Ginny glanced around until she spotted a dark-haired figure sitting with her back against the wall beneath a sink.

"Hello?" Ginny said hesitantly.

The girl's head snapped up and Ginny gasped a little. She was strikingly beautiful, with big, charcoal-black eyes and long, silky black hair to match. Ginny self-consciously tucked her wild red carrots behind her ears. The other girl had exotic features, and Ginny wondered where she was from.

"H-h-he-e-el," the other girl said, then started crying again.

"What's the matter?" Ginny asked softly, moving closer. "Do you need me to get a teacher?"

"Goodness, please do," came a tired voice from inside one of the stalls.

Ginny inched the door open a bit. "Hullo, Myrtle," she greeted the ghost.

Myrtle sniffed importantly. "She's really starting to get on my nerves."

"I'll see what I can do," Ginny assured her.

"She won't stop crying," Myrtle added. "That's my gig, you know. Morning is when I gather my thoughts and it's absolutely impossible to focus with her carrying on like that."

"Yes, well, I promise, I'll see that her depression doesn't interfere with your self-pity much longer," Ginny assured Myrtle dryly.

"See that you do," Myrtle said, before slamming the stall door shut again.

"P-p-please no teachers," the other girl said, clearly trying to get a hold of herself.

"Here," Ginny said, ripping a few paper towels out of the machine and offering them to the other girl, who blew her nose loudly on one. "What's your name?"

"Ezra," she said after a moment, wiping her eyes on the long sleeves of her robe. "Ezra Easton." Ginny suspected this girl was older, perhaps a seventh year, but Ginny didn't recognize her. Hogwarts was a large school, but not so large that everyone didn't at least know what everyone else looked like.

"Ezra. What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"My doom, that's what," Ezra said.

"Doom?" Ginny said doubtfully. "Come now, it can't be that bad."

"Trust me, I'm doomed," Ezra said. "I know about doomed, and I'm it. I'd fling myself to my death, even though suicide probably means a fiery eternity, but I'm sure my family would follow me there and then it'd really be Hell."

Wincing, Ginny sat down beside Ezra, hoping there was nothing too disgusting on the floor.

"Where are you from?" Ginny asked after a few moments of silence had passed.

"Where aren't I from?" Ezra said with a slight smile. "I was born in the Philippines, then raised on the island of Oahu until my eleventh birthday."

"Oahu?" Ginny asked.

"One of the Hawaiian Islands," Ezra answered. Ah. That explained the American accent.

"So what happened on your eleventh birthday?"

"My worst nightmare," Ezra said. "My parents had always told me I'd go to the finest wizarding school in the world. I just didn't believe them until it actually happened. I had friends, you know. We used to surf and take long hikes in the jungle. There was even an inactive volcano we used to play in."

"That sounds lovely," Ginny said sincerely.

"My parents hated it," Ezra confessed bitterly. "They always said a proper witch would be reading up on her history, not hanging about with Muggles." She shook her head. "My friends, my best friends, and all my parents would ever call them were 'disgusting Muggles.' Do you know how that made me feel?"

"I can only imagine," Ginny said, unsure of what, exactly, to say. There was a reason she didn't have more friends. Her social skills were almost totally nonexistent.

"Well, my mum and dad went to Durmstrang, so as you can imagine, I was guaranteed admission almost from birth," Ezra continued.

"It's very cold at Durmstrang," Ginny said lamely.

"Yes. Growing up in the tropics, you can imagine how much I loved the cold," Ezra said dryly. "Durmstrang and I didn't really get along very well. When I was fourteen, there was an incident with the head master."

"What sort of incident?" Ginny asked, insatiably curious despite herself.

"I was found naked in his office," Ezra said in an offhand tone. "My parents were called, Karkaroff denied everything and promptly had me thrown out of the school. Not too long after that, he disappeared after that mess with the Triwizard Tournament, but the damage was done and I was persona non grata at Durmstrang."

"What did you do then?" Ginny asked eagerly, watching as Ezra lit up a cigarette. "You smoke?"

Ezra shrugged. "They say these things will kill you. Here's hoping!" she declared, taking a long puff.

"It just can't be that bad," Ginny declared.

"After Durmstrang," Ezra continued, "there was Beauxbatons. Madame Maxime didn't care for me, either. We spent two years at each other's throats. I finally pushed her too far when I transfigured that awful dog of hers into a balloon animal. It's not my fault Quidditch practice got out of hand that day and a bludger popped poor little Mopsy."

"Of course not," Ginny said soothingly. This girl was just so . . . cool. From her hair to her attitude to the way she managed to make a shapeless robe look attractive, she was everything Ginny herself was not.

"Now, with five weeks left before being done with school entirely, I'm found without a school to graduate from," Ezra summarized. "So my parents shipped me off to Hogwarts, their last choice, incidentally -- don't think it didn't gall them to have to throw themselves at Professor Dumbledore's mercy -- and here I am."

"It's really not so bad here," Ginny said softly. "And it's only for a few weeks, right?"

Ezra laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Oh, sweetie, it's not the five weeks I'm dreading," she admitted. "It's the lifetime that's waiting for me after they're over."

Having no idea how to respond to that, Ginny suggested they go gorge themselves on breakfast.

~

Breakfast was filled with considerably less drama.

Dumbledore introduced Ezra to everyone and announced that, given the short time she would be with them, Ezra would not be sorted into a house -- instead, she would take the spare bed in the Gryffindor tower (Haley McLayne, a seventh year who'd taken her N.E.W.T.s early, had already left to care for an ailing grandmother).

This suited Ginny just fine, as she was desperately excited to have a friend of her very own. Ezra sat next to her at breakfast, and they chatted about what things were really like in Hawaii, and Ginny promised to show Ezra around Hogsmeade the next time the school took a field trip.

Glancing over at the Slytherin table sporadically, Ginny caught Draco looking her way with an unreadable expression on his face. It didn't seem to bother him that she'd caught him looking, either, so Ginny shrugged and went back to her breakfast. He was clearly still in a foul mood and she wasn't eager to try and talk him out of it, anyway. She assumed that when he had something menial and humiliating for her to do, he'd take it up with her straightaway.

Once breakfast was through, Ginny showed Ezra to the Gryffindor common room, supplied her with the password ("Mary Poppins," which was Hermione's favorite Muggle film, and, as Head Girl, she got to pick the password) and wished her luck on her classes.

Ginny attended her own classes, and after a morning of Herbology, double Potions, and Divination, she was more than ready for a break. An hour of free time sounded like heaven, and she decided to spend it down by the lake.

At the lake, however, all her dreams of peace and tranquility fled when she found Draco standing near the water, leaning against a tall oak tree.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding rather testy.

"I've got a free period, haven't I?" Ginny sniped back. "I didn't realize the Malfoys owned the space around the lake."

Glaring at her, he started looking around as if he expected someone to catch them. "Go on, then," he said. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"You can't still be upset about that business with Ron," Ginny said, sighing. "I didn't mean it, not really. Or rather, I didn't mean it the way it came out. You're only an insufferable git some of the time."

He almost looked as though he wanted to smile.

"So," Ginny continued, "you may as well just forgive me my trespasses, assign me some horrible chore for the day, and let us get on with both our lives."

"Look," he began, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seemed upset, and Ginny had never seen him do anything as careless as muss his hair.

"Is something the matter?" Ginny asked softly.

Draco laughed, though it wasn't a happy laugh. "Everything's fine. I just -- I got an owl from my father today, and . . . Christ, why am I telling you?" He turned away from her and started pacing again.

"Look, if you really want me to go. . ." Ginny offered hesitantly.

"No, no." He seemed to shake himself. "You're right. I don't own the lake, you've got a free period. You stay. I'll go." He started to walk off and she reached out to grab his wrist.

"Wait," she said softly. "I don't want you going thinking . . ."

"Thinking what, Ms. Weasley?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

"Nothing," she muttered after a moment.

"You don't want me going off thinking nothing?" he asked with an amused tilt to his mouth.

"Do shut up, Malfoy," she mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Listen, why don't you have the day off?" he offered. "You've been a very good slave the past week." Ginny didn't think he'd say so if he'd seen the monograms in his sweaters yet. "Tomorrow you can pick up where you left off. It's Saturday and there aren't any classes. Meet me here for lunch. Charm the House Elves into giving you a picnic to bring with you."

Ginny smiled, then realized she was still holding onto his wrist and abruptly dropped it. Attempting to school her features, she nodded her head, once. "As you like, Mr. Malfoy."

"Draco," he corrected her, then seemed to kick himself when he did.

"Draco," she said softly. His eyes pulled up to meet hers and their gazes locked and held. So strange, she wrote in her diary later, how right his name felt on my tongue.

"I have to go," Draco said quietly. "I have something -- I have to go."

He was the first to break eye contact and he left her standing by the lake. Ginny sat down right there on the bank, staring out at the water, wondering what on earth had just happened.

~

When Ginny returned to the castle, she found Harry and Hermione sitting outside on the steps, holding hands, faces tilted upward toward the unusually sunny day.

"Why aren't you in class?" Ginny asked as she approached them.

"Dean Thomas went mad," Harry said mildly.

"He did not go mad," Hermione corrected. "He just had a mild episode--"

"He went mad," Harry insisted, "right in the middle of Potions. Snape actually looked a bit frightened."

"Dumbledore decided that we're all worrying far too much about N.E.W.T.s and final examinations," Hermione continued, "and gave everyone -- students and teachers alike -- the rest of the day off. We've strict orders not to study or work."

"Herm's about to go bonkers," Harry mentioned with a grin.

"Shut up," Hermione muttered.

"So what are you two going to do today?" Ginny asked. "Up for a game of chess?"

"Sorry, Gin," Harry said. "We're going to spend what's likely to be the last day with no class or studying planning our summer holiday."

"But if you'd rather--" Hermione began, but Ginny held up a hand to stop her.

"Please, don't change your plans on my account," she insisted with a lopsided grin. "I'll just go bug Ron. Have fun planning. Maybe a picnic by the lake?" she added, a bit wistfully.

"That sounds nice," Hermione said, brightening noticeably.

"That's my cue to get a basket from the kitchen, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Just make sure you're nice to the elves," Hermione said with a smile. "And please, do try to remind them of their rights--"

"Yes, yes," Harry said, bringing Hermione's fingers to his lips for a brief kiss. "Mustn't neglect S.P.E.W., even if it is technically defunct."

"Have fun," Ginny said again, waving goodbye to Hermione.

It took her nearly half an hour to find Ron, and when she did, she wished she hadn't. He, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were playing some sort of game where they ran about trying to hit each other with small rifles filled with paint.

"It's something my dad does on weekends," Dean explained. "Mum thinks he's nuts, but he says men have a lot of pent-up aggression working as hard as they do, and they've got to get it out somehow."

"Fancy a play, Gin?" Ron called.

"No, no thank you," Ginny said as Ron was hit in the face with a shot of yellow paint.

After learning that her new friend Ezra was also nowhere to be found (I really do hope she hasn't done anything with one of the students or, God help us, Snape), Ginny decided to spend the day locked in the Gryffindor tower, trying to organize her thoughts in her diary. On the way to the tower, however, she ran (literally) into someone rushing around a corner. They both fell to the ground, the papers he was carrying fluttering around them.

"I'm so sorry," he said as his face came into view above her. Ginny vaguely recognized him and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she muttered. "Just a little bruised." She looked at him more carefully. "You're in Hufflepuff, aren't you? Sixth year?"

"Kyle McGraw," he said, holding out his hand, and she heard his Scottish brogue.

"Pleased to meet you," she said. "Ginny Weasley." He held her hand a wee bit longer than casual greeting allowed, and she had to pull it away. "What's all this?" she asked, indicating the papers strewn about the floor.

"Oh," Kyle said, bending down to begin picking them up, "just some drawings I've done."

"You drew this?" Ginny asked, awe coloring her voice as she held up a charcoal of Hogwarts as it appeared from those little boats they brought first year students in on.

"I know it's not very good," he said modestly.

"Good? It's fantastic. Surely someone else must've told you how fantastic it is."

He looked embarrassed. "Actually, I've never shown them to anyone else. Well, my mother, but mothers don't count. You wouldn't be looking at it right now if we hadn't . . . well."

"I'm very sorry," Ginny said, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to pry--"

"You aren't," Kyle hastened to assure her. "I appreciate the opinion, believe me." He smiled and Ginny decided he had an honest face. Her mother always used to say that about Harry.

"Are you doing anything today, Kyle?" Ginny asked suddenly. She wasn't quite sure what possessed her, though she suspected it was her good fortune with Ezra earlier. It was long past time she found some friends of her own so she didn't go wandering about the castle like a lost puppy when everyone was busy.

"Just this," he said, indicating his drawings.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" Ginny asked.

"I'd love to," he said with a big, foolish grin on his face.

As they ate, they talked more. Kyle told her about his father dying when he was just a boy and how his mother had to raise him all by herself. His mother had been a Muggle, but his father was a powerful wizard who'd given up everything to be with his family.

"Back when You Know Who was terrorizing everyone," Kyle said, "my dad was with the Ministry. My mum was visiting London when You Know Who killed a bunch of wizards. Mum witnessed the whole thing, and my dad was supposed to put a memory charm on her so she'd forget. Instead, he fell in love." Kyle pushed a stubborn lock of hair back behind his ear. "He got in a lot of trouble for it, and the Ministry threw him out. He didn't mind, though. My mum's family owned a ranch outside Glasgow and it turns out my dad loved working the land. They were really happy." Kyle's voice turned sad.

"What happened?" Ginny asked gently.

"There was some sort of curse, left over from his time at the Ministry," Kyle explained. "I was barely two when . . ." He trailed off, and Ginny placed a sympathetic hand over his.

"That's awful," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. His gaze met hers. "When I got my Hogwarts letter, mum was so happy," he confessed. "Said she'd always hoped I had a bit of dad's magic in me."

They talked for a bit longer and Ginny was really enjoying herself until she realized that, subconsciously, she was comparing Kyle to Draco. Mumbling an excuse about having a headache, Ginny made a hasty retreat from the stairwell they'd been speaking at and headed straight for Gryffindor Tower. Her heart was pounding and it was impossible to believe she'd just met the sweetest boy in the world and couldn't quite stop thinking of the cruelest.

~

Later, in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny had abandoned all hope of writing in her diary (the blank pages were mocking her at this point) and was listening with some interest to the conversation Hermione and Ezra had struck up about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry and Ron were playing chess in the corner, while Seamus and Dean tried to get paint out of their hair on the couch. Ron said he liked the purple streaks in his.

"You've really had seven different Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in seven years?" Ezra was exclaiming.

"And not all of them put together were worth one of Professor Lupin," Hermione stated.

"I thought you were rather fond of Professor Lockhart," Ron said, not looking up from the board.

"Quiet, you," Hermione called out to him.

"Did someone fancy their teacher?" Ezra asked, feigning a scandalized expression.

"Maybe a bit," Hermione admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. They'd only met a few hours ago, and Ezra already seemed to have pegged Hermione's personality to a tee.

"But she's completely over it now," Harry called out loudly, also still concentrating on the game. He'd only beaten Ron at chess a handful of times in the past.

"Completely," Hermione agreed.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me," Ezra said. "I've been here barely a day, and already the great love story of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger has been drilled into my skull."

Hermione grimaced. "It's really not all that great. Not to anyone but Harry and I."

"That may have been true," Ezra admitted, "until that little incident in the boy's showers."

"Oh sod it all," Hermione muttered around a groan.

"You've already gotten all the school gossip?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

"Every word," Ezra confirmed with a grin. "I live for good gossip, it's the only thing that keeps my mind off the dreadful future I've got waiting for me."

"Reminds me a bit of Professor Trelawney, that one," Ron said absently as he took Harry's Bishop.

"Let's just hope she doesn't start predicting our horrible bloody deaths," Harry agreed.

"And if she does, she at least makes them entertaining," Ron said.

"Have you heard anything about Kyle McGraw?" Ginny asked curiously. "Sixth year Hufflepuff?"

A salacious grin spread across Ezra's face. "Dear Kyle is in the top five," she said.

"Top five?" Hermione asked.

"Top five archetypes," Ezra said. "Harry here," she said, pointing at him, "is the best, most loyal boyfriend imaginable, ever attentive and totally coveted, because he has it all: mystery, danger, courageous, honorable, good sense of humor, cute, in an unconventional way -- total package. And it's useless to covet him, of course, because of the aforementioned loyalty."

"That's right," Harry said, though the tips of his ears were turning red, and Ginny could tell he was trying very hard to pretend their conversation wasn't happening.

"Seamus Finnigan," Ezra continued, "makes all the girls laugh harder than any other boy, though he avoids the trap of being a clown. Girls think his good humor is covering up some sort of inner pain and they want to make it better. Draco Malfoy is the bad boy all the girls shouldn't want, but can't help themselves, because all girls think they can fix cruel, dangerous men." Ezra had a look of great distaste on her face when she said this, and it made Ginny wonder if Ezra included herself in the description 'all girls.'

"Malfoy," Ron muttered dangerously, but took it no further and Ginny released a sigh of relief.

"Neville Longbottom," Ezra continued, "is the nice, sweet boy girls end up marrying when they're older, who has absolutely no mystery or danger about him at all, which almost guarantees he won't get a single date until he's thirty."

"Poor Neville," Hermione cooed sympathetically, as Ginny studiously kept her gaze on the tapestry beyond Ezra's head.

"And finally," Ezra said, "we come to Kyle McGraw. The artistic type, always buried in his art. There's a little bit of Neville in him, but not enough to turn the girls off completely. But then there's the other thing about Kyle that all that gives him major points."

"Yes?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"That boy has talented fingers," Ezra said with a leer.

Hermione let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Ginny drew her eyebrows together in confusion. Kyle was a wonderful artist, she knew, so of course he was talented with his fingers. She didn't see why that should scandalize Hermione--

"Oh," Ginny said slowly, realizing what Ezra might mean. "Oh!" she repeated, mimicking Hermione's posture.

The three girls stared at each other for a moment, then burst into hysterical giggles.

Ron and Harry exchanged raised eyebrows.

"Women," Ron muttered disgustedly.

"They're not so bad," Harry argued lightly, unable to take his eyes off of Hermione, even though it would probably cost him another match to Ron.

"Whipped," Ron commented sadly.