Patronum Lacrima

CHAPTER 5

It was New Year's Day, and Harry was lying on his bed, lost in thought. He hadn't told Ron what was bothering him. He had asked Hermione to find Ginny for him, because judging by the look she had given him as she passed him in the corridor earlier, she did not want to talk to him. He thought she might tell Hermione what was on her mind. Then he could ask Hermione what Ginny had said. Piece of cake.

At least Harry knew Hermione would react rationally to whatever Ginny had to say - he was sure Ron wouldn't be so calm. Ron was totally insane where Ginny was concerned. Harry knew that Ron took 'taking care of his little sister' seriously, all the Weasley boys did. That was one reason why Ginny never told Ron about her boyfriends. He found out sometimes, but Harry was fairly sure Ron didn't know half of what Ginny did when she wasn't under his watchful eye.

Harry also knew that Ron would murder him if he heard the words, "Ginny and me, a lot of alcohol, snogging on top of the Astronomy Tower," no matter what Ron himself had been doing during that time. He shrugged mentally. He wasn't telling Ron, that was for sure.

Then he wondered if Hermione had found Ginny. Ginny - oh lord. What the bloody hell had gotten into him last night? Harry couldn't stop thinking about her the way he had the night before. He doubted he'd ever be able to go back to the old way of thinking about her again It was as if his eyes had been opened and he had seen her differently than ever before: not as Ron's little sister, or as someone he called his friend but wasn't really close with, but for what she was: one of the most beautiful girls in school, and dead sexy.

Her flaming hair had fallen around her pale face, and she had been shivering from the cold; the look of her had made something inside him melt. The way a few stray tendrils of fire had blown in the wind and the way her eyes flickered up at him through her lashes. Her expression, her gaze that held so much insecurity yet a sense of strength he couldn't deny even had he wanted to. He wanted to hold her, warm her; just touch her, and his hormones, fueled by alcohol, had taken over.

Her eyes had widened, but she hadn't made any move to stop him. Her lack of resistance hadn't helped, either. Goddammit, Ginny! he thought. Now what have I gotten myself into?

~*~

It was already dusk by the time Ginny got out of her armchair in the library. Hermione had left hours ago, to talk to Harry. Ginny was feeling claustrophobic, which was unusual for her; she liked cozy rooms and small spaces, and hated the cold. But right now, she needed to go outside; there wasn't enough air in the stuffy library.

It had just snowed, making the grounds glow eerily in the twilight. She didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get as far away from everybody as possible.

Away from Ron. She loved Ron, he was her favourite brother, and she could talk to him about anything, except anything that had to do with her and boys. He definitely wasn't going to be a big help on this count. The worst thing she could do would be to tell him about it, causing a fight between him and Harry on top of everything else.

Away from Hermione, with her sympathetic glances. She doesn't know half of what's going on inside me, Ginny thought.

And away from Harry. Those three had always been a tight-knit circle, and no one else had been able to enter their little world.

She had been so jealous.

She had always had a gift of perception, and it was intensified when she was watching Ron or Harry, the two people who were most important to her. She knew Harry had been in love with Hermione, just as she knew Hermione had had feelings for both of them, but had always loved Ron just that little bit more. She was pretty sure she had realized this even before Hermione had, and when she and Ron had started dating, Ginny had been not at all surprised. The only thing that surprised her was how long it had taken for them to get together.

By the time Ron and Hermione had started going out, Harry was over his crush on her. Ginny had thought their little world would come crashing down around their ears, jealousy, envy and chagrin causing it to crumble. Then she would have been there to console Harry.

But she had been wrong. Harry had given up on Hermione in fifth year, and Ginny had felt him slip away from her. He took absolutely no notice of her, not even now that he was emotionally available. She had felt something inside her crumble as the awareness dawned on her that he would never love her. A light went off behind her eyes, like a switch being flipped in her head, and no one had noticed. Not even Ron.

The boys she had been out with had each been a small consolation, all of them good-looking and popular; she knew she could have practically any boy she wanted. But none of them had managed to fill the hole that gaped in her soul. She was like an apple that had been left on the tree too long; flawless on the outside, but her core was rotten. She didn't think anyone would ever be able to make up for what he had done to her, not even he himself, and the furry toy that shared her bed had often felt her silent sobs as she cried herself to sleep at night.

She had felt something change in Harry's attitude towards her last night. She was pretty sure that his reaction had not just been caused by alcohol, like she had told Hermione. But she would never be able to have a relationship with Harry. Not anymore. She loved and hated him at the same time. The feelings resided in a far corner of her mind, but seeing love directed at her in Harry's eyes and thinking about what could have been between them would just bring the pain back.

Another thing she had lied to Hermione about : her heart hadn't just been bruised. It had been broken clean through.

~*~

Draco got up and shook snow off himself like a wet dog. Not very elegant, he thought mirthlessly. If only my father knew. There were quite a lot of things his father didn't know about him, or so he thought.

He had gone outside to be alone. He took the letter he had received at the Halloween feast from his pocket. His father had sent it with Davent, his raven, and it had been tied with a silver-and-black braided ribbon. His father liked to make an entrance, even when he wasn't bodily present. What a dramatist, Draco thought contemptuously. He unfolded the letter and reread it.

You will not be coming home for Christmas. Important things are happening here and I can't have you spoiling them. You will understand in time. (Signed) Lucius Malfoy.

That was it. How impersonal could he get? He hadn't even headed it with 'Dear Draco', or written 'from your father,' Screw him.

Draco wondered why he wasn't allowed to witness whatever was going on at the mansion. He had been privy to Death Eater meetings before, when hare-brained schemes to kill Harry had been devised. He definitely wouldn't spoil those; he hated Harry probably as much as Voldemort did.

Which didn't mean that he planned on becoming a Death Eater when he was old enough; he hated Voldemort probably just as much as Harry did. How weird, to have something in common with the two people he hated most.

Why he hated Harry was obvious; it was the way he had been raised, one of the foundations of his very existence. Before he had gotten on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, Draco had envisioned playing best friend to Harry, then bringing him to Malfoy Mansion where the Death Eaters would be waiting for him. In his mind's eye he saw his father telling him how well he had done, and how proud he was of him. In his fantasies, it was so easy: Harry Potter who been raised with muggles, who didn't know anything about the wizarding world. He was only a legend to most people. A myth, basically. No one would miss him.

Then they had met on the school train, and Harry had told him, Draco, to sod off. It had been like a slap in the face. It was then that Draco's acquired hate had stopped being something he had taken in with his mother's milk, had taken for granted, and turned into a living emotion, thriving on Harry's shows of arrogance and feigned benevolence.

Voldemort he hated because of what he had done to his father. Lucius had told Draco about the Dark Lord, all-powerful, who would return to reward those who were faithful and punish those who were not. The stories had fascinated Draco as a small child, but as he grew older, he had come to despise Voldemort, although a few lessons learned the hard way ensured that he never showed his feelings for his father's master. Lucius was Voldemort's lap dog, and Voldemort exploited his unwavering loyalty-cum-stupidity mercilessly.

Draco had admired his father, and looked up to him for his composure and self-confidence; seeing him grovel to Voldemort filled Draco with contempt for Lucius and white-hot rage for the Dark Lord.

I am never going to grovel to anyone like that, he thought. I wonder if my father knows I'm a traitor. Maybe that's why he's keeping me away from home. That's probably the reason Blaise is here too, he figured. Blaise shared his feelings towards Voldemort, and it was often a topic of discussion when they were alone.

No one would have called them 'good' in the classic sense of the word, but had any of Voldemort's supporters ever listened to their private discussions, the two of them would have been marked as traitors, and

disowned from their families, or even killed. Neither of them wanted to risk that, at least not yet. Their coming-out would be forced on them soon enough.

Draco started as a shadow fell on him. It was Ginny Weasley.

The moon was low, and threw elongated shadows over the white grounds. She was walking a small distance away, and hadn't seen his dark form huddled at the base of a large tree.

Without thinking, he called out.

"Weasley!" He knew immediately that it had probably been a mistake, but he couldn't take his words back now.

She jumped. She looked around, and he waited patiently as she scanned the area. Then her eyes rested on him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she called.

"Company," he called back. Even at this distance, he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

She walked over to him slowly, and eyed him warily. He could tell she was sizing him up, wondering why he had called to her. He was wondering himself.

"I'm not in the mood," she told him.

"I've been hearing that a lot from you lately."

"Listen - thanks for this morning..." she started, but didn't continue, like she did not know what else to say. She looked half ready to run, half curious about what he had to say.

She stayed where she was.

"Was it only the alcohol that made you retch?" he asked her. "Or was it more than that? Waking up next to someone you don't remember allowing into your bed isn't always a nice experience even if it is Ha-"

"Malfoy, are you following me?" she said in a voice deadly quiet. He tried to not let it get to him.

"I'm not. The Astronomy Tower doesn't actually belong to you, you know - it is, indeed, quite public."

She grimaced.

"I woke up alone."

"Doesn't mean you went to bed alone," he said. He decided to see how far he could push her; it was, after all, his specialty.

"I wasn't that drunk," she said, annoyed.

"So you didn't want to? And here's little old me thinking you still love him." He met her gaze. She looked steadily back, but he could see the emotion in her eyes, even though she was struggling to keep it hidden.

"It's not your business." She started to walk away.

"Sure it isn't. So do you?" he asked.

She stopped, but didn't turn around. He knew she didn't want him to see her inner turmoil.

"I don't know."

"I know."

Her shoulders tensed, her arms went rigid and her fists clenched. He was sure she would turn around to hit him any second. She had amazing self-control, but he was sure one more cutting remark would break it.

"Although you looked pretty sure last night,"

She spun around.

"How long were you watching for?" she snapped.

"Long enough," he told her and flashed her a smile that looked like a travesty of Lockhart's; bright, cheery... and false. She looked at him long and hard.

"If it's any condolence: I left after you just about steam-rolled me. And you can stop glaring at me," he said, sounding slightly bored.

"I am so not in the mood for this," she said, exasperated. "I'll see you around - unfortunately..." And she stalked off.

"Do people tell you that you're pretty when you smile? Hell to that - you're so sexy when you're angry!" he called after her. He wasn't sure what had possessed him. It had been the first thing that came to his mind when trying to think of something to say that would make her stay.

She spun around. Again.

"Come again?"

He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain the appearance of being in control.

"Is that the only thing girls respond to? Remarks about their appearance?" he drawled, sounding like he was truly contemplating the matter. "Although, you know you're pretty - it should be below you to fish for compliments."

"But I've never heard it from you." She looked confused, like she was wondering why she had just said that. And so she should be. He was wondering himself.

Then she grinned.

"I tell you you're sexy when you're angry, so you grin - to be contrary?" he suggested.

"Not hardly."

"Then what's funny?"

"Nothing. Malfoy, listen -" but he cut her short.

He was still sitting in front of her, and he pulled her forward by her hips and into his lap. She clung to his shoulders out of sheer reflex, and he wrapped his arms around her.

He kissed her. She tensed only for a second before kissing him back with an astounding passion. He hadn't really expected her to return the kiss, and was rather pleased. It was he who drew back first.

"Woah," she said, more to herself than to him, sounding somewhat dazed. "What was that about?"

"Not sure really. Seemed like a good thing to do."

She leveled a gaze at him. "Screw you, Malfoy." she said, as she got up and stalked off.

"Was it something I said?" he called after her, but this time, she didn't turn around.

~*~

Walking up to the Gryffindor common room, Ginny suddenly realized how she must look; coming back in the evening after no one had seen her all day, covered in snow. She brushed off her robes, praying no one would see her like this.

The common room was thankfully empty, except for a solitary first-year she didn't know. Ginny sat in front of the grate and stared into the flames. She needed to sort her thoughts and feelings. Lord, what a snogfest it's been, she thought, as she reflected upon the holidays. She knew she needed to talk to Harry, although she didn't want to, and although she didn't exactly want to talk to Draco, she would have given anything to know what he had been thinking.

And what the hell was I thinking? He can't possibly have a crush on me. Can he? No way! So what was he doing? And what was I doing? I don't even like him. I have totally lost my self-control.

She didn't want to admit to herself how much she had enjoyed lying in his arms. He was much stronger than one would have assumed on seeing his slight build. It had shocked her at first, and she had been a little scared, lying so helplessly in his lap. He could have mercilessly taken advantage of her.

No, wait. He did mercilessly take advantage of me. How silly of me to forget.

The kiss had been so bloody intoxicating. She had closed her eyes as he kissed her, red and white lightning dancing across her inner lids. The kiss had been slow, yet she had been almost swept off her feet by the wave of passion behind it. Malfoy's tongue had explored her mouth in a fashion completely different to Harry's; he was forceful - no scratch that. Not forceful; demanding. Gentle, but demanding in a manner that left no room for disagreement. Not that she had disagreed...

She hadn't realized she had been kissing him back until he pulled away from her, and then she had been just short of grabbing him and pressing her lips down on his again.

He would have loved that, she thought. She could just imagine his taunting voice. Not even the lowbred Weasley can resist my charm. Or something equally horrible and... true. Well, not the lowbred bit. But she didn't want to think about how much she had enjoyed the kiss.

The memory of it would make her stomach knot up for weeks.

~*~

Harry was alone in his dorm when Ginny found him. She coughed twice, whether to settle her nerves or announce her presence, he wasn't sure. She seemed extremely edgy.

"I, uh, think we should talk, Harry," she said. He moved over, and she sat on the end of his bed. He hoped he would finally be able to summon up his courage and tell her how his feelings towards her had changed because of the night before, up on the Astronomy Tower. She had obviously overcome her discomfort of talking to him about what had happened, well, then so could he.

"Look, Ginny, that was really..." he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He was at a loss for words. He wanted to tell her that she had sparked feelings in him that he never knew he had for her, that he was sorry he hadn't realized before, and that it had only taken one kiss to make him see it, and ask her if she still loved him.

The matter was taken out of his hands.

"Harry - we were both dead drunk. It's not an excuse for what we did, but let it suffice as one. I don't need an apology from you, I just want to put this behind me."

"Uh, ok, if that's what you want," he said, slowly. Idiot, he thought. You idiot! Tell her! Say something!

"Yeah, I think it's the best way." She looked up at him. "See you around, Harry."

Although he was struggling not to let his shock and disappointment show, he looked as if somebody had slapped him. She left, turning away from the hurt in his eyes, and he just barely mastered the urge to smash something.

He watched her go, not quite believing that she had just walked out on him.

~*~

Draco and Blaise did not continue their relationship after school recommenced. Both of them had enough other things and people to keep them occupied: theirs had been a temporary relationship born from loneliness and physical attraction rather than love, and there had been an unspoken agreement that it would not last. Neither of them told anyone what had happened in the holidays, rather more because the topic didn't arise than that they wanted to conceal it, but neither of them felt the urge to talk to anyone about it.

Draco found himself thinking about Ginny. A lot. He didn't volunteer this information to anyone, but that didn't change the fact. He went out of her way, trying to avoid a confrontation because he knew he wouldn't be able to taut her. He watched her inconspicuously from the Slytherin table at mealtimes, and noticed she never sat next to Harry anymore. He did notice how Harry looked at her, though, and it made him mad. The stupid git's realized he loves her after all, he thought with contempt.

Draco had an amazing sense of observation. It was one of the things that made him so competent in pushing people's buttons. He could tell when he had struck a soft spot by the look in their eyes, or when they were getting mad by their actions, he knew when to continue or when to back down, and how to wind someone up.

The only actions whose meanings eluded him were Ginny's. He could not tell what she was thinking or feeling, not anymore. She had found a way to shut herself off to him, and it irritated him extremely.