All You Need Is Love

Chapter Four

The Truth About Harry

After Ginny changed into dry clothes with Maria's help, she went down to lunch. Elle was the only one who attended the meal with her and Draco. Ginny kept her eyes on her plate the whole time, an awkward silence hanging in the air.

She was still furious at Draco. If they were ever going to manage to get married without killing each other, then he would have to apologize first. Because she had been nothing but nice to him, and he'd been the one acting like a jerk.

Elle noticed the tension between them, and tried to strike up a conversation with Draco. When he kept giving her short answers, she turned to Ginny and asked her what she knew about the wedding.

For the first time, Ginny raised her eyes to look at Elle. She looks a lot like Draco, she noticed. Except warmer. Kinder.

"I would really not like to talk about the wedding right now, Elle," she said softly.

Elle's face visibly fell, and the hurt look in her pale gray eyes made Ginny feel slightly guilty. But she really was not in the mood to talk about the wedding, and returned to her food, pretending not to have noticed.

Draco left the table as soon as he was done without a word, leaving Ginny and Elle alone. Elle watched him leave, almost wistfully, and turned back to her plate, her sadness etched on her features.

Feeling bad for her, Ginny asked, "Do you know anything about the servants here?" She realized it was an odd question, for Elle gave her a queer look, but at least she was making conversation. And she wanted to see if Elle knew anything about Lily Potter and her death, or if she knew why Harry was so loathsome towards her.

"Not really," Elle answered slowly. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Ginny said, shrugging. Then she tried a different tactic. "Has anything tragic like this ever happened before?"

"Like what?" Elle demanded, sounding a bit annoyed that she couldn't understand what Ginny was getting at.

Ginny suddenly figured that Elle didn't know about the murdered family. Feeling quite stupid, she pretended to be busy buttering her bread. Hastily she changed the subject. "What do you want to know about the wedding?"

Elle instantly forgot about what Ginny was trying to say before and brightened. "What sort of dress are you wearing?"

The truth was Ginny didn't know. "I haven't decided yet," she lied.

"Haven't decided yet? The wedding is less than three weeks away!"

For another thirty minutes, Ginny uncomfortably sat there and tried to answer questions about her wedding. With a pang of sadness she realized she knew nothing about how she was going to marry Draco. She knew that it was already all planned out, and that made her a little angry, too. She'd always imagined planning her own wedding, along with her mother and Hermione (who had married Ron merely weeks after they graduated from Hogwarts) and her future husband.

Imagine planning my wedding with Malfoy, she thought with a silent shudder. He would look out of place among all the colorful flowers and the pink curtained altar I plan to have.

Ginny managed to excuse herself from Elle's questions by saying that she had to attend to something. The truth was she didn't have anything to do. It was so boring being a princess. Couldn't it at least be warm outside? she wondered bitterly. Instead it's got to be freezing and snowy. Well, at least it matches my mood.

For a while, Ginny wandered around the castle. By now she had a pretty good idea of the place she lived in and knew her way around well enough.

What are princesses supposed to do in their spare time? Ginny thought. She'd read many books about royalty, but she never really paid much attention at how they spent their extra time. Surely they had a lot of it, since most were schooled only a few hours a week and didn't have to do chores. Most of the heroines in the books always did things outside, such as rendezvousing with the poor stable boy because she was in love with him, or riding horses and meeting prince charming in a field of wild flowers.

But all of that took place outside. Ginny was cooped up inside and had nothing to do except walk around. Then there was the constant idea that she might run into Draco, which she didn't want to do.

Finally, she decided on going to find Harry. I'll make him trust me, she decided. I'll gain his friendship, and then maybe he'll tell me why he hates me so much now.

A few minutes of searching the castle brought her to the library, where she heard the sound of Harry's voice. Sticking her head in, she saw him, standing on a ladder that was leaning against the shelf across the large room. Beside him, on another ladder, was his father. They had their backs to her, and were in the process of pulling books off the shelves and opening and slamming them shut to get the dust off. Ginny, unnoticed by them, watched for a moment, thinking, What a dull job that must be.

They were chatting together casually, and Ginny noticed with a twinge – of what? Jealousy? Longing? – that when Harry turned his head so she could see his profile and glanced at his father, he was had that happy, contented look. The look he had whenever he caught the Snitch and won the Quidditch match. The look he rarely gave anyone even as his future self. The look that Ginny wished he'd give her. He clearly was happy with his father, and he really was a good person in this world. Something had just happened that caused him to be hard to some people, or specifically, herself.

As she watched, her heart pounding painfully, Harry slammed the book shut, shooting dust into his face. He sneezed so violently his glasses slipped off his nose. James Potter just managed to reach out and grab them before they fell the few feet to the floor and probably would've broken. He grinned in relief, still not noticing Ginny in the doorway even though all he had to do was look up and see her across the room, and turned back towards the shelves.

"Thank you, Father," Harry said in an old-fashioned way that made Ginny want to giggle. He made a reach for his glasses, but his father held them up and out of his grasp. "Father!" he said exasperatedly, though he was smiling. "Give them to me!"

But James held them above his own head, laughing at Harry's attempt to get them. He tried jumping slightly, but the fear of falling off the ladder only got him a few inches high. In seconds they were both laughing helplessly, though Harry tried to stay serious.

"You know I cannot see a thing without them," he moaned.

Their laughter filled the room, and Ginny felt so sad she could cry. Maybe this world is better for Harry, she thought. Being a servant and having one parent is better than being a famous wizard orphan, isn't it?

Ginny felt a hot surge of anger when she thought of all that future Harry had been deprived off. It just wasn't fair. In this world she was screwed, with two people who were supposed to be her parents and filthy rich, and she was getting married to Draco Malfoy. And yet, Harry had a parent and was somewhat happy, and there was no Voldemort. Or at least as far as she knew.

Which world is better? she wondered, watching as James handed his son the glasses and they returned to their task. The future world is better for me, but this world is better for Harry. Do I really want to go back and see Harry parentless again?

Yet that's where things got weird. This servant boy looked like Harry Potter and had his name, but he didn't act like him and didn't have his life style. If not for their looks and names Ginny would've sworn they were two totally different people. So for all she knew there still was a Harry Potter that would be born in the future, a totally different person who just managed to have the same face and name as someone from four hundred years before. Even though that was highly unlikely, it was possible.

But this isn't the right world! Ginny realized. If this actually happened, then how come I've never heard of any medieval princesses named Virginia Weasley marrying a prince named Draco Malfoy? I mean, our names aren't very common, and surely someone would have read about it in history books (such as Hermione) and brought it up. If this world is real, then I would've heard about it before. Not to mention Muggles have never known about magical people, and Maria told me herself that she knows about magic, and that there is a magic person in the town. It's all highly unlikely.

That still didn't clear things up. So the world was fake and never happened – where did that leave her? In the same place except it was twice as scary because the place obviously doesn't exist.

She sighed loudly, not realizing she'd done so noisily until Harry and James were both twisted around at the waist to stare at her. Feeling a blush creep up her cheeks, she racked her brain for something intelligent to say. Since James was around she didn't feel comfortable asking to talk with Harry. Not after the way he'd given her that look in the kitchen the day before.

"I was just…looking for a book," she managed to say somewhat normally, turning and walking to the nearest shelf at her right. She took a random book off the shelf and flipped through it. Squinting at it, she wondered if she had it upside down. After flipping it around, she suddenly realized it was written in Latin. Oh, well, that explains it, she thought, feeling sort of idiotic.

She replaced the book and scanned the titles of the others. Am I on the Latin shelf or something? she wondered. Does anyone write in English?!

Ginny noticed that Harry and James had become silent, and when she glanced over her shoulder at them she saw Harry had been staring at her out of the corner of his eye. When she met his gaze, she blinked and instantly he was back to dusting the books like nothing had happened.

He's suspicious of me, Ginny figured. He doesn't trust me. They both don't trust me.

A few minutes later, she finally found one book that was written in English. Though the cover title was written in such flowing script it was hard to make out what it was called. It looked like Oveelo Fhiiorophy, but the inside text was in English, so she concluded that it had to be something else. Perhaps it was a name.

She needed to speak with Harry, but it looked as if he and his father would be dusting books all day. No matter, Ginny thought, walking to one of the three chaise lounges that were in the middle of the library. I'll just sit here and read Oveelo Fhiiorophy for a while.

Neither of them said anything when they realized she would be staying in the library, but she could've sworn she heard either James or Harry click is tongue in annoyance.

Oveelo Fhiiorophy was hard to understand, but a few pages into the book Ginny finally understood what the title was. It wasn't Oveelo Fhiiorophy but Greek Philosophy. Proud that she managed to recognize the title, she resumed reading, and tried to enjoy it.

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood. No matter what he did he couldn't raise his spirits. He even snapped irritably at Elle when she kept asking him questions about what was wrong, fluttering around him like an annoying fly. When she scurried away from him, near tears, it only caused his mood to worsen.

Even as a prince my life sucks, he thought, lying on his bed in his room and staring at the top of the canopy. It was what he used to do a lot back in Hogwarts when he was angry. Staying away from people was best when he was pissed. But the only thing that was bad was that it gave him way too much time to think and recall things, things that had made him mad in the first place.

And in this case, those "things" included Ginny Weasley.

There was something about her that just grated his nerves. Maybe it was her optimism, the way she always looked hopeful whenever he first saw her. To her, Draco thought bitterly, everything is probably rainbows and sunshine. And it will come as a shock when she finds out it's full of poison and rain.

Another thing was the way she spoke to him. As if she were trying to change him. As if she could change him. He couldn't really explain why he thought this, but it was just her manner. The way she spoke to him was like she wanted to mold him into what she wanted him to be, what she wanted her husband to be. Her husband should like tea. Her husband should care about ten people getting murdered. Then her husband should be Harry fucking Potter, Draco thought furiously.

For the first time in his life, Draco felt himself longing to be home. Back in his huge, cold manor where his biggest problem was whether or not to have breakfast in bed or go downstairs and eat with his mother. Hell, he would be happy even if he were back in Hogwarts, worrying about how to beat Potter at Quidditch. Anything seemed better in the situation he was in now. Because he knew how to handle all those previous situations. He'd eat with his mother or not – it wasn't a big deal. And so what if he lost to Potter – didn't he always?

But here he was slightly unsure about everything. Like why he was even here in the first place. Or if he would ever get back.

The most confusing thing of all, though, was how despite the fact that Ginny got on his nerves constantly and always was a pain, he still couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was and how wonderful it would be to run his fingers through her hair.

It was thoughts like that that got him even angrier, though mostly with himself, and he forced himself to think of all the bad points in Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Ginny sat there reading the Greek Philosophy book until dinnertime, annoyed that it took Harry and James so long to dust the books. Of course, she knew she was being unfair, since the library was as big as The Burrow was and it would probably take them a few days to complete their task. But she was irritated nonetheless, and went to dinner in a bad mood.

Once again, Elle, Draco, and herself were the only ones who ate at the enormous table. This time Elle chatted up a storm, talking to anyone who would listen instead of asking questions of them individually.

This time, Ginny left the minute that she finished eating, and returned to the library. She nearly moaned in frustration when she saw that James and Harry were still side by side, dusting books.

"Don't you ever eat?" she demanded shrilly.

They turned and stared at her. Ginny felt exasperated with herself. I'm a princess! I can order James to go away! So what if he doesn't like it, he's a servant!

She knew she was being mean, but she found herself saying, "Um . . . James? Could you fetch my parents for me, please?"

He scowled at her. "If you forgive me, Highness, but your parents are in the village."

"Yes. I know," Ginny said innocently. That's why I want you to get them. So you'll be gone for a while.

"With all due respect, perhaps you could find someone else to fetch them? We need to finish this" – he gestured at the bookshelves – "before we retire for tonight." His voice was hard, cold, and he stared at her with an expressionless face.

She felt terrible, ordering him around when he didn't deserve it. But she needed to talk with Harry, and she had a feeling if she said so James wouldn't leave. She couldn't speak to him with his father around.

"Please," she said with a note of firmness.

James kept his face blank, but she could almost feel the anger radiating from him. "Yes, Your Highness."

He glanced at Harry, and Ginny couldn't help but notice the look that they shared, and then he got down off the ladder. Ginny stepped into the room to get out of the doorway, and he passed by her without another word.

He sure is brave, she thought. He's visibly mean to me. I could tell my parents and have him thrown out. Of course, I would never do such a thing, but I could. You'd think he'd pretend to be nice to me.

She waited until his footsteps faded before she turned back to Harry.

He had his back to her again, dusting the books. Now he was using a rag to wipe all the dust off, which Ginny thought was a smarter way then opening and slamming the book covers.

Ginny stepped rather cautiously closer to him. She wrung her fingers nervously. "Harry?"

"Yes, Highness," he said, sighing and lowering the book. He didn't turn his head.

"May I speak to you?"

"Of course, Highness." She could hint the barely noticeable sarcasm and bitterness in his tone as he replaced the book, got down from the ladder, and turned to face her.

"You can tell your father," she said softly, "that he won't have to finish dusting these books. You don't either. I'll have someone else do it."

His face remained hard, but his eyes softened slightly. "Thank you Highness." He didn't sound very thankful.

"And you can apologize to him for me," she said, daring a smile, "for sending him after my parents. Because I only wanted to talk to you alone."

"So you sent him out for no reason." His dull and accusing tone was like a slap in her face.

She had not expected it, and she mouthed noiselessly for a minute. "Well…no, not exactly…"

He smirked then, a smirk that reminded her so much of Draco it was almost frightening. Oh, God, Harry, why do you hate me so much? What did I do to you?

She hadn't realized she'd spoken the words out loud until Harry laughed, rather hollowly. A blush crept up her neck and she felt embarrassed that she'd actually said what she was thinking.

"What did you do to me?" he repeated. "You only took my mother away from me."

Ginny felt as if the whole room had tipped to the side, and she found it hard to stand. Her head spinning, she sputtered, "But Maria said…she told me that I didn't kill her…"

"You didn't kill her," he said venomously.

Ginny tried to swallow the lump in her throat. I didn't kill her. Then why does he hate me? "Then what did I do?" she whispered, praying that her tears wouldn't surface and reveal her feelings.

Harry just shook his head. "If this is all you want to talk to me about, Highness, I'd rather not. I have other duties I must attend to –"

"No." Even she was surprised by the firmness in her voice. "Don't leave until you tell me why you act so hateful towards me. I won't let you leave."

"But you know why!" he spat defensively.

"I do not!" she shot back hotly. He glared at her so coldly that it seemed to freeze her blood, and she felt chilled. "Tell me why, Harry Potter. Just because you think I know doesn't mean I do. I'm not the person you think I am."

"You're exactly the person I think you are," he hissed. "Just like your parents. I hope that whoever murdered that family today murders you, too. And I hope it's painful and slow, because people like you and your family deserve to die slowly and then rot in hell."

And then he stormed by her and out of the library, leaving her standing there, unable to breathe, unable to move. Tears filled her eyes so quickly that she didn't have to blink for them to fall down her cheeks. Then, her legs were no longer able to support her, and she sat down hard on the floor. Then she grabbed a handful of her skirt, which was poofed around her because of all the lacy petticoats she was wearing, and began to sob into it.

She didn't want to sob like a baby, because she knew it was ridiculous and childish, but she couldn't help it. Those words Harry had said to her … they were worse than any insult Malfoy had ever thrown at her. They were worse because she loved Harry, even this past Harry, and every horrible word was like a knife in her chest.

Ginny cried for a long time. When she finally had cried all her tears out, she fell onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling numb. Everything was so wrong! This world wasn't right, no matter how happy Harry was with his father. No matter how wonderful Maria was, or how adorable Elle was, or how rich Ginny was. She found herself longing for her old ratty house, wishing for the familiar sounds of the family ghoul overhead, making the most obnoxious noises possible.

But none of it came, and the already low sun disappeared, casting the library into dark shadows. And Ginny remained on the floor, staring dully upwards, the air hanging around her. She'd never felt so alone, so desperate in her life. Even during her first year, when she'd been used by Tom Riddle to do terrible things and she didn't know what was happening to her, there was always the distant comfort that she could tell someone if she found the courage. But here, she couldn't talk to anyone. No one would understand, for even though Maria was understanding, she would think Ginny was crazy if she began claim she was from the future. The only one who could begin to understand was Draco Malfoy, and she would rather eat dirt than pour her heart out to him.

"I hope whoever murdered that family today murders you, too." Harry's voice came swirling back into her head, and it caused Ginny to blink in realization. Could it be that Harry was the one who'd murdered those ten people?

No. She hurried to dismiss the idea. He couldn't have. Harry may be a little…depressed and have some anger problems, but he's not a homicidal killer.

Still, what an odd thing to say to someone who was royalty.

Ginny wasn't sure how long she laid there, but after a while the sounds of footsteps and the muffled voices of servants began to disappear, until the castle was cloaked in silence. Finally, she forced herself to stand up and leave the library.

When she returned to her room, Maria was there, sitting on the bed. She stood up when Ginny entered, hurrying over to her with a stern look on her face.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "It's nearly midnight. I've been worried out of my mind – I thought that you might've left the castle and with that murderer still on the loose –"

"I was in the library," Ginny interrupted dully.

Maria looked startled. "Oh. Well, no wonder no one was able to find you. Who would've thought you actually went into the library."

"What do you mean?"

"You despise reading," Maria stated simply. "Now, come on, let's get you into bed…"

For someone who's known me my whole life, Ginny thought as she allowed herself to be undressed, Maria sure can't tell when I'm depressed, can she?

Ginny got into bed and Maria began tucking the blankets around her.

"What happened to Lily Potter?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Maria paused, then proceeded to fluff the pillows behind Ginny's head, avoiding her eyes. "She's dead, my dear."

"I know that," she snapped, irritable. "How did she die?"

"If you can't remember then I'm not the one who should be telling you this," Maria said, patting the top of Ginny's head. Then she turned and started to leave.

Ginny sat up in bed, determined to find out what was wrong before she would lay back down again. "Then who should tell me? My parents?"

Maria stopped short halfway to the door. Then she turned, sadness visible in her onyx eyes. "I wish you wouldn't worry about it," she said quietly. "It happened years ago…"

"Tell me!" Ginny shrieked. She was through being nice. If being kind got her nowhere then she'd be firm, and even mean if she had to be.

Maria's shoulders fell, and she returned to Ginny's bed and sat on the side next to her. "You were only five when it happened," she said, her eyes turning watery and making Ginny feel extremely guilty for how she'd been treating her. "But I thought you knew…"

"I forgot," Ginny whispered.

Maria sighed, straightening, and wiped at her eyes. "Everyone loved Lily. All the servants, I mean. She was beautiful and bright and always kept our spirits up. She married James and then they had a son, the perfect family. I have to admit even I was envious of them, because the three of them looked so perfect together, so contented…" She broke off and had to wipe her eyes again. "Lily was a dear friend. A good friend."

Though Ginny was dying to hear where this was going, she remained patient and waited for Maria to continue, allowing her to take her time.

"Your father, I think, was jealous," Maria went on, sniffling and looking above Ginny's head at the wall behind her. "He always was a womanizer…still is, come to think of it. One day he demanded to see Lily and…"

Ginny had a suddenly horrible feeling of what Maria was going to say next. While she waited for Maria to control herself, she could feel a huge knot in her stomach forming and had trouble swallowing.

"Of course, afterwards Lily wasn't as happy and glowing as she'd been before. A bunch of people tried to ask her what was wrong, including me and her husband, but she'd always give us a tired smile and say, ‘Nothing. I'm fine.' But turns out she wasn't fine, because a few weeks later she told James that she was pregnant again. Only it wasn't his child."

"Oh God," Ginny breathed. She gripped a handful of blankets in her hands, her knuckles turning white. Her heart was jerking painfully, and the knot in her stomach was tightening. She felt as if she were going to be sick.

"James was angry." Then Maria laughed emptily. "If there was ever an understatement for what James was feeling, it's anger. No one had ever seen him so…so furious before. He was positively livid when he confronted the king, your father. He confronted him right in front of your mother, and when your mother heard your father confess to ravishing Lily she became mad as well. Only not at James or your father, but at Lily herself. As if Lily had gotten herself pregnant with the queen's husband's baby.

"Two days later, Lily disappeared. A few of the servants thought she ran away, but I didn't believe it. She had a husband and a six-year-old son, and she was pregnant. Even if the father of her child was horrid, she still wanted it. Lily had told me so herself, saying it was her baby, too."

"What happened?" Ginny asked, still gripping the blankets. "What happened to her?"

"A few days later she was found," Maria said, her blank eyes fixed on Ginny's. "In the forest near the castle. She'd been shot with arrows. About a dozen of them."

Ginny felt all the blood drain from her face. Her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth and she tried to swallow the wave of dizziness and sickness she felt.

"Though it was never proven," Maria continued in her dull tone, "it was obvious that your mother arranged it. For the arrows were the ones that castle guards use."

No wonder Harry hates me! Ginny thought, closing her eyes tightly. I'd hate me, too, if I were him! How terrible…he's right, my parents do deserve to rot in hell.

"Is that why he hates me?" Ginny whispered, slowly removing her hand from her mouth but keeping her eyes shut.

"Who?" Maria's warm, chubby hand engulfed Ginny's comfortingly.

"Harry." She opened her eyes and stared at Maria. "Is that why Harry hates me? Because of what my parents did to his mum?"

"Well look at it from his point of view," Maria said rather quickly. "Your father humiliated his mother, your mother killed her. And now suddenly you keep wanting to talk to him when you've always treated him like…well, to be honest, Highness, you've treated him terribly before. He probably reckons there's some catch –"

"How did I treat him before?" Ginny asked, straightening. "Tell me how I treated him."

Maria stared at her. "My dear, sometimes you worry me. How can you not remember anything?"

"Just please tell me."

Maria sighed. "You would always taunt him. Don't you remember? Call his mother horrible things. Tell him he was next."

Ginny had a sudden flashback. Harry was on his knees, scrubbing the stone floor with a brush, and she was standing above him, sneering. "Your mother's a little tramp," she said snottily. "She came to my father, not the other way around…"

And Harry just gritted his teeth, but did not reply.

"You're next, Harry Potter. My parents have plans for you…"

Ginny blinked and tried to shake the image from her head. It was so real, just like a memory. Oh, God, what's happening? Is this world really real? Did all this really happen?

"Try to get some sleep," Maria said, and what seemed like a second later, all the candles were out and she'd left. Ginny was alone in her dark bedroom, still sitting up and staring at the floor, lost in thought.

Slowly, Ginny lay back down. Now she knew the truth, why Harry hated her, but it didn't make her feel any better. How could she have been so horrible?

It wasn't me, she assured herself. I would've never said anything like that to Harry. Never.

She thought she would never fall asleep, but the day had been so emotionally exhausting. The instant her eyes slid shut she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Draco had been walking around the castle after lunch, trying to figure out what to do, when he ran into Ginny.

He'd noticed that morning at breakfast, as she picked at her food, that her skin had been looking a bit sallow. Her eyes seemed bigger and darker and sadder, and there were purple-black shadows under them. Of course, he hadn't said anything to her – he figured she was probably worrying nonstop about how to get back to Hogwarts.

She walked by him without acknowledging him. Annoyed, he turned and asked, "Hungry?"

She stopped, stood with her back to him for a moment, then slowly spun to face him. "What?" she asked in a dejected tone.

"Aren't you hungry?"

She gave him a look of disbelief and confusion. "Just leave me alone, Malfoy." And she began to walk away from him again.

He frowned. No, he thought stubbornly. He didn't want to leave her alone. He wanted to know what was wrong with her. Striding after her, he elaborated. "You barely ate anything at breakfast and lunch today."

"That's my business." She quickened her pace and would not look over her shoulder.

Draco stopped, his frown turning into a scowl. "Fine. Go off and think of a way to get us back, then, will you?"

At that she twirled around, her hair twirling around her head. "I thought you didn't think there was a way to get back," she snapped.

At least I got her attention, he thought, smirking. "I don't. But the way you look I figure you've been slaving over idea after idea of trying to get home."

She narrowed her eyes, then took a few steps closer to him. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

"I know everything I need to know," he replied smoothly.

Her arms crossed firmly over her chest, she glared and asked, "Do you know why Harry hates me?"

"No. And I don't want to know."

"Because I've been evil to him," she said, ignoring him. "In this world I'm some sort of…of spoiled, cruel princess. I'm…I'm like you. No wonder they wanted us to be married. They think we're the perfect match."

"I'm evil?" Draco scowled.

"Yes. You are." He noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Do I really make her that nervous? he wondered. "And," she went on, "I'm beginning to think that maybe you like it here. After all, you're a prince. You've always acted like one. So why not stay where you belong?"

He stared at her hard. "What are you talking about?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but then looked as if she changed her mind. Running her tongue over her lips, she seemed to sway on her feet. With the sleeve of her dress she wiped her forehead. "It's getting hot in here, isn't it?" she muttered.

It was actually rather cold, since they were near a large window. Every now and then, when the wind blew outside, Draco could feel the icy draft leaking in.

"What I'm saying," she went on, only this time she didn't have as much feeling, "is that if I somehow find a way to get back to the future, maybe you should stay here."

"Like you really expect to find a way back by yourself?" he said incredulously. She began to cough. "Face it, Weasley You'll need my help to find whatever way there is to get home in the future."

She finished coughing and gave him a weak glare. "Honestly, Draco, you'd think by the way you speak you actually believe there is a way to get home."

He stepped closer to her. "Notice how I said whatever way," he said, sneering. "And I never said I didn't think there was a way to get back ..."

"Yes you did."

"...what I said was that we can't do it because we didn't bring ourselves here. We might, however, find someone who can do it for us."

Her eyes brightened slightly. "Yeah, like that magic woman I told you about yesterday. We could see her…" She began coughing again, this time a bit more violently.

"Are you feeling okay, Weasley?" he demanded, sure to keep any emotion out of his voice.

"I'm fine," she said with one final cough. "Not like you'd care anyway. You don't care about anything."

That annoyed him. He'd been nice enough to actually inquire about how she was feeling, since her eyes were looking darker and darker and she was sweating more visibly, and she'd had to go and snap at him. Annoyance melted into anger. "I never said I didn't care about anything," he snapped. "You keep putting words into my mouth, Weasley."

She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them to glare at him. "Draco, you're giving me a headache."

"Good," he sneered.

She put her fingers up to her temples and closed her eyes again, as if trying to block out the sight of him. Once again she swayed, and had to quickly put out her hands to keep her balance.

Draco was beginning to think there was something wrong with her but she just wasn't telling him. Fine, he thought. If she wants to keep her misery to herself, let her.

"Floor a little uneven, there?" he asked, smirking.

She shot him a look of pure annoyance. "I think I need to lie down for a little while," she said, coughing shortly. Draco watched, slightly amused, as she turned and started to sort of stagger down the hall, one hand pressed over her chest.

She looks drunk, he thought, nearly grinning.

Ginny stopped shortly. And then her legs collapsed from under her. She fell in a flurry of red curls and lacy skirts, not making one cry of pain or surprise as she did.

Draco was startled at first, unsure of what to do. Then he realized that something was very wrong, and she had not meant to fall on purpose. In a few strides he'd reached her, and crouched at her side. Her eyes were closed, but she was muttering under her breath, and shaking her head. Then she arched her back and coughed again, so fiercely Draco wouldn't have been surprised if one of her lungs popped out. She was beginning to sweat heavily, her hair sticking to her damp forehead and neck.

She's sick, he realized, and warily placed his palm on her cheek. Her skin felt clammy and slick with perspiration. She moaned when he touched her, turning her head the other way.

Draco stared, uncertain if she was asleep or not. Should he leave her and find help, or carry her to her room himself? He began to feel a little panicked, and it was not a comfortable feeling. He normally knew what to do in most circumstances, but she looked really sick. Like she'd eaten bad meat or something.

"Ginny?" he said.

"My chest hurts," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering but not opening. "And…and it's cold…"

Wasn't she hot just a few minutes ago? Draco looked around, though he wasn't sure what he was searching for. To his relief, he heard footsteps coming, and an instant later Harry appeared at the end of the corridor.

Draco's relief was short lived. Harry came closer, opening his mouth to say something, but then noticed that Ginny was in a delirious sleep.

"Go get somebody," Draco ordered. He stared up at Harry, and could've sworn he saw something flicker in his green eyes. Was it concern? He couldn't tell because in a moment it was gone, and Harry had turned and was walking back the way he'd come to get help.