Downfall

Chapter Eight: Even Mirrors Can Give A Proper Pep Talk

Ginny lay in her bed, clutching a ragged teddy bear, and cried miserably for hours.

At lunch, her dorm mates came in and tried to comfort her, telling her it wasn't as bad as she thought. They told her of how Ron, deadly serious, had threatened to kill anyone who breathed a word of this. Ever. They said Harry even came down from his room to promise that he would help cast Memory Charms on the whole House if anyone even looked at Ginny the wrong way.

She knew it was supposed to make her feel better, but she was so embarrassed. Only Dean and the girls she lived with had ever seen her without her clothes. She just couldn't face them all yet.

And what if Malfoy had told everyone? She shuddered at the thought, though she knew that she would have heard by now if he was spreading it around. She wondered at that. Why would he take his 'revenge' and not boast about it? What good is that? She shook her head and buried it beneath her pillows. He likely didn't want everyone to know he was behind it, to prevent himself from being punished. Ooh, I hate him!

Her conscience chose that moment to begin to complain loudly. Well, you are being a gigantic bitch, Ginny. Did you honestly expect him to roll around on the floors, bemoaning the fact he ever crossed you? Hmph. What, you expected to get out of this free and clear, skipping happily through meadows, trilling a song?

Shut it, you! I'm the one that ended up doing an impromptu try-out for Playwizard last night. Try showing a little compassion, would you?

Compassion. Hmm. No, I think I've quite forgotten the meaning.

I thought you were the nice one?!

Wrong again, lovey. I'm the one that tells you that you are behaving atrociously, and that your mother would be horrified if she heard of this. You were raised to be better than this, Ginny. You should feel awful. Apologise to the boy and call it quits before you-

"Lalalalala!" she sing-songed, trying to drown out that nagging voice of reason. Pausing, she lay completely still. Nothing. Blessed silence, inside her head and out.

Ginny promptly fell asleep again, worn out from all the emotions of the last twelve hours. She dreamt of the Sorting from her first year. Only this time, when Professor McGonagall called out her name, she was completely starkers. Everyone pointed at her and laughed until tears rolled down their faces, as the Sorting Hat sang about how naked girls go to Hell, not to one of the four Houses.

When she woke, the light from the window was dim, meaning it was quite a bit later in the afternoon. I must've slept for hours. But why do I feel so exhausted, then? She clambered out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, rubbing her swollen eyes.

Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face, washing away the streaks of dried tears on her cheeks. Grabbing a handtowel, she patted her face dry and looked in the mirror.

The mirror gasped. "Sweet Merlin, child! We're a right mess, aren't we?"

Ginny had to agree. Her mass of thick red hair was matted down on one side and ratted in great knots that tangled down her back. Her cheek bore the distinct imprint of the corner of her pillow, and her dull eyes were blood-shot and swollen from hours of crying.

"Boy trouble, darling? They're all heartless at this age; I know. Did he break up with you?"

It was hard to glare at the mirror when all that showed was her sorry-looking reflection. "No, he didn't break up with me. I would NEVER date such a soulless bastard! He humiliated me in front of the whole House to salvage his stupid pride!"

"A man's ego is a fragile thing, dear," the mirror replied sagely. "If you want to keep him happy, you need to let him feel manly and in charge sometimes."

Ginny snorted derisively. "Malfoy? Manly? That'll be the day. He's a blight on the wizarding world, and should be treated as such. He's a rotter. A great, dirty, flaming sod and he can just tip over and die for all I care!"

A delicate laugh came from the mirror's direction. "For someone that doesn't care, you're spending quite a lot of time talking about him."

"That's because I hate him. Despise him. Loathe him."

The mirror chuckled. "At least you're passionate about him."

Seething, Ginny retorted, "You're off your head!" She paused. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"I get your meaning, dear. But the point is, are you going to spend the remainder of the day in here moaning about your situation, or are you going to set this, as you say, rotter, straight? Let him know you won't stand to be treated this way!"

Ginny shook her head at the mirror sadly. "I'm not going down there yet. I can't."

The mirror sniffed indignantly. "You can't? Or you won't? You want him to win, is that it? You want him to know he's won, and that you are a complete doormat?"

She stared, speechless. After several moments, Ginny found her voice. "I thought you said men's egos are fragile and to let him be 'manly and in charge'?"

The mirror huffed disgustedly. "That was before I knew the extent of your troubles, darling. I mean, you're afraid to not only face him, but everyone else, too? It sounds like this one, you said his name was Malfoy?, this Malfoy needs a good verbal thrashing. Make him understand how you felt. Powerless, helpless. Like an object. That will get his attention, I assure you. And maybe next time, he'll think twice before doing things that embarrass you."

Ginny mulled this over silently as she fingered the tangle of hair over her eye. How do I make him feel helpless, like an object? Grindelwald's Gullet! How do I even find him on a Friday night? Oh! Head Boy rounds. He and Hermione each have a two hour shift tonight. She was still thinking when her stomach announced its presence with a loud rumble.

The mirror laughed. "Let's start with the simple, dear. Hop in the shower and get cleaned up, and then head down for a bite of dinner. Then you can get to work on your Malfoy."

Ginny growled, "He's not my Malfoy."

"Just get in the shower. Hold your head high, tell him what's what, and make him sorry he embarrassed you. Oh, and promise to come back and tell me all about it."

Ginny had just emerged from her shower, fresh-faced and determined, when Hermione's voice called out from her room. "Ginny? Where are you, in the bathroom?"

"I'll be out in a moment, Hermione."

Donning her favourite jumper and a long, loose skirt, Ginny checked her reflection in the mirror. "Well? Better?"

"Oh, back to your beautiful self. Much better. Now, give him hell!"

Gunny turned to leave, but paused thoughtfully. "You know, I've never asked if you had a name. Do you?" she directed at the mirror.

"Oh! Well, I've never been asked that before! How sweet of you," the mirror cooed. "No, I don't suppose I have a proper name; but, since I was originally crafted for the Duke of Wellington, I suppose you can address me as Wellie. It would be an honour for me. He was such a brilliant man, the duke was. Only thing was, he always thought he was mumbling to himself when I spoke to him." The mirror gave a remarkably good rendition of a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose non-magical folk shouldn't receive thoughtful things like myself. Tends to drive them mad." Ginny smiled and assured the mirror that any reasonably intelligent person should be thrilled to own it.

A small smile still touching her lips, Ginny walked back into her room, finally feeling ready to face the world. Hermione stood facing the door, a tray in her hands stacked with wonderful smelling foods. Touched, Ginny made her set down the tray so she could give Hermione a tight hug.

"Thank-you," she whispered.

Hermione blushed, happy to see her thoughtfulness had paid off. Ginny was looking much better, and was even showered and dressed.

"I didn't know if you wanted to go down to dinner, so I nicked a tray and filled it with things you liked. I figured we could eat up here, if you want."

Ginny smiled her thanks and cleared off her bed so they could sit.

They chatted about inane things as they ate, until Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Ginny? About last night. I know I wasn't there, but Ron told me. Do you know who cast that hex on you? Was it Malfoy?"

Ginny nodded. She wiped her fingers clean before leaning back on her hands. "Yes, it was Malfoy. I heard his voice come through the portrait, and his laughter. I could have died right there, Hermione. Honestly. But I just got a good talking-to from the mirror in the bathroom. Incidentally, its name is Wellie. It convinced me that Malfoy needs to appreciate how he made me feel last night. Like an object," she finished triumphantly.

Happy that Ginny had seemingly recovered, Hermione was reluctant to point out the flaws of her theory. "Gin? You do realise this is one vicious cycle, don't you? Malfoy objectified you with the breasts thing, you and Millicent Bulstrode turned him into an object to be ridiculed with the pants thing, and then he hexed your robes to be see-through to everyone but you. If you respond in kind, everything will just keep snowballing. Not to mention, this is completely out of character for you, to be so... so vicious."

"Well, what do you suggest I do? Turn the other cheek?" Ginny countered derisively.

Hermione put on her best follow-the-rules-and-everything-will-turn-out-fine face. Determinedly, she said, "I think you should tell Professor McGonagall. If you tell her everything now, you may get in trouble, but all of this will end. She'll see that the 50 galleon reward gets canned. Malfoy will be put on probation as Head Boy. He wouldn't risk his position to harass you anymore, I'm positive of it. And that would be the end of it."

Ginny thought about it. A nice, clean ending. But then she would lose, because Malfoy had had the last laugh. She shook her head adamantly. "No. I won't let this end with him holding the upper hand. I want him to know I won."

"But Ginny," she pleaded, "this won't end. I know Malfoy. He'll take this far beyond the realm of one-upsmanship. It'll turn ugly. I don't want you to get hurt."

Angrily, Ginny threw her words at Hermione like daggers. "So now you're saying I can't beat him at his own game? As I recall, you were all for my plan to tell everyone his little secret."

Hermione thought about her next words carefully. "I wanted to see Malfoy taken down, yes. I wanted him to leave Ron and Harry alone, yes. But I don't want to see you hurt to make that happen. He's just not worth it."

Ginny blew out a breath, trying to calm down. This was the second person to tell her Malfoy 'just wasn't worth it'. Three if you count what Hagrid said at Flourish and Blotts just before my first year, when Dad and Lucius Malfoy got into that fistfight. Your family has culled quite the reputation if no one thinks you're worth it, Malfoy. Ginny heaved a great sigh. She knew it wasn't Hermione she was angry with. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." Ginny stubbornly thrust her chin out and met Hermione's concerned eyes with her own steely ones. "But I'm going to win this, with or without your help."

Hermione gave a weak smile. "I suppose the odds are more in your favour if I throw my weight in your corner, aren't they?"

Ginny gave a little clap, pleased that she had swayed Hermione to her way of thinking. "So, here's what I need you to do..."