Twist of Fate

When Draco awoke, he was surprised to see the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing above him. He couldn't think how he had gotten there, only remembered he had been feeling feverish that morning.

It was then that he felt something tickle his right ear. Trying to move as little as possible, he turned his head slightly, and started a little as a lock of bright red hair fell into his face, partially obscuring his vision. Brushing it away, he saw that someone had her head on his pillow. Someone was breathing into his ear with long, slow, breaths. Someone with red hair was drooling slightly on his pillow and yes--he wiggled his fingers a little--holding his hand.

What on earth was Ginny Weasley doing in his bed?

Draco shifted a little, preparing to wake her with a biting remark. His movement caused her hair to fall away from her face, and he suddenly found himself quite unable to speak, as though someone had put a silencing charm on him.

Her skin looked unbelievably soft, despite the abundance of freckles he had often teased her about. Her lips were parted slightly, and her smooth, pale throat moved almost imperceptibly as she breathed in and out. Draco found himself staring at her, transfixed. How had he never realized that she was beautiful?

What are you thinking? This is a Weasley you're thinking about, a filthy blood-traitor, no better than a Mudblood, really.

But somehow, he could not convince himself of that. Almost in a dream, he reached out and touched one of her coppery locks, twisting it between his fingers, savoring the silky feel of the hair against his skin.

The Hospital wing door burst open. Harry stood in the doorway, his black hair mussed with sleep, staring in horror at the sight that greeted him.

Ginny awoke as the door banged open, and jerked upright, causing Draco to pull on her hair, which had still been twisted around his fingers. Ginny let forth an exclamation of pain, and Draco felt a stab of remorse. Stupid Potter, always making him out to be worse than he was trying to be. He had not meant to hurt Ginny. Not this time, at least.

"Malfoy--" Potter choked out, "What are you--? What did you--? Ginny--" He strode angrily towards the bed.

"Harry!" Ginny cried, "It's not Malfoy's fault! He was just--" she gasped in horror as Harry's fist connected solidly with the side of Draco's head.

Draco gasped in pain, blinking away stars. He barely had time to collect his wits about him before Harry hit him again, this time catching the side of his mouth. Draco felt his tooth crack, and tasted blood.

Ginny screamed. "Harry! Stop!"

Madame Pomfrey, roused from her slumber by Ginny's scream, burst into the room. She took in the scene before her, and tightened her lips menacingly. "Mr. Potter! What exactly do you think you are doing?!" She swept over, and pulled Harry off of Draco. "Attacking one of my patients? Completely unacceptable behavior, Mr. Potter! You may leave the Hospital wing now, and I do not think you shall be coming back any time soon, unless you are seriously injured!" She pointed imperiously at the door, and Harry, shooting Draco a look of pure malice, stomped from the room.

Madame Pomfrey bustled over to Draco's bed, clucking her disapproval. She pulled out her wand, and ran it lightly along his jaw and the side of his face. Draco's face contorted, and then he relaxed visibly as the bones shifted back into their proper place, and the cuts in his mouth healed.

Lips pressed tightly together, Ginny dressed hurriedly and left the infirmary. She walked quickly back to the Gryffindor common room, and found Harry sitting in the corner. She stomped over to him and flung her book bag down in front of him.

Harry looked up, his eyes both guilty and defiant. "Ginny, I--"

"You," she said, "are the most amazing git, Harry Potter." Harry's face at once because indignant. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny held up a finger in warning, and he shut it again. "No, listen. I'm touched that you were worried about me, but to just barge into the Hospital wing like that and make blatant, untrue, " she emphasized the word, "accusations about me is not ok."

"But Malfoy was--"

"Shut up!" Ginny closed her eyes, breathing hard. She opened her eyes again, a look of forced calm on her face. "I don't need you to look after me, Harry. I've already got a mother, thanks." Ginny turned, pretending not to see the hurt look on Harry's face, and left the common room, the portrait-door shutting hard behind her.

***

Ginny was in a foul mood for the rest of the day. She was so peeved with Harry that she didn't pay attention in Potions, causing her cauldron to explode violently, spattering everyone with a green, foul smelling concoction that wasn't, as Snape told her scathingly, a decent attempt at a Babbling Beverage.

Harry sat next to her at dinner, and tried to talk to her, but she ignored him, stubbornly pretending she was interesting in whatever Lavender was saying on her other side.

She didn't know why she was so mad at Harry. He had been looking out for her, the more docile side of her mind argued. But the fact remained that Ginny didn't need looking after anymore. After all, she was fifteen, and she needed to be looked after almost as much as she needed to be drenched in undiluted Bubotuber pus.

But that wasn't the only reason Ginny was angry. She wasn't sure what exactly made her so incredibly annoyed. She pondered this on her way back to the common room after dinner.

Ginny had always prided herself on being able to read her own emotions, but every time she tried to tune into her feelings, all she could see was Harry's face as he punched Malfoy. He had looked crazed, triumphant, and almost...jealous?

Then she thought of how helpless Malfoy had looked, as he endured Harry's abuse. He had looked like the child she had comforted the night before. Ginny was surprised at the rush of tenderness she suddenly felt for him.

Don't be stupid, Gin. This is the same boy who calls you a blood traitor, and despises everything your family holds in highest regard.

The tenderness died away as she remembered each and every occasion when Malfoy had made her furious. Really, she hardly had reason to be mad at Harry when Draco had tormented her practically every chance he got.

Draco? Where'd that come from? He's Malfoy, just Malfoy, she reminded herself.

Ginny shook her head to clear it, and kept walking. She was so caught up in her thoughts, that she didn't notice when a figure slipped out of a shadowed recess in the wall, and followed her.

***

Ginny wasn't surprised to find Harry waiting for her anxiously in the common room. He looked so remorseful that Ginny felt she didn't have the nerve to reject him again.

"Hey...Ginny...Can we talk?" Harry's voice cracked a little bit, as it hadn't done in years, and his cheeks flushed a little. Ginny couldn't refuse him when he looked so vulnerable.

"Of course, Harry." She smiled at him, and followed him over to the corner of the room, where they would have some privacy.

Harry twisted his hands in his lap after they sat down. He looked quickly from Ginny, then to the fire, and back to his toes. "Listen, Gin. I'm--I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have--I just--Malfoy--" He cut himself off, and stared at her imploringly.

Her temper flared momentarily. How dare he blame Malfoy for his own actions? She composed herself, however, and was able to answer quite calmly. "It's ok, Harry. I forgive you." She smiled at him.

"Thanks, Gin," said Harry, and his face showed such genuine relief, that Ginny felt guilty for harboring negative feelings towards him. He stood up and pulled her into a quick, compulsive hug, then drew away, blushing again. "I--er--I've got to go to bed. Goodnight," and he rushed off.

Ginny shook her head and set to work finishing her essay for Muggle Studies that she had not yet finished, due to her untimely visit to the infirmary.

She finished a little before midnight, blotted the parchment, and stowed it away in her bag. Yawning, Ginny glanced around the common room.

There were only three people left. Two were sleeping, their heads cushioned upon piles of books and papers. The third was sitting with her back to Ginny, but Ginny knew from the bushy brown hair that it must be Hermione. She was knitting, her needles emitting a soft clicking sound that was all but drowned out by the quiet snaps and pops of the fire.

Ginny took the seat across from Hermione and smiled at her. "Making elf hats?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "There are thousands of elves still forced into labor at Hogwarts."

Ginny nodded. She had learned not to argue with Hermione about S.P.E.W. The two of them sat there for a while, not saying much.

After a while, Ginny stretched, bade Hermione goodnight, and headed up the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. She was grateful that at least Hermione was acting like she always did. Everything else about this day had seemed unfamiliar, including herself.

***

Draco was released from the Hospital wing the next day. He walked slowly down to the Great Hall, thinking of excuses for his fainting fit.

Slytherins do not faint! he told himself sharply. You--you--you collapsed. Due to shock...or something. But however he worded it in his mind, it still came out to the same thing. It was definitely not something a Malfoy would do. And unfortunately, it seemed exactly like something Potter would do.

He reached the Slytherin table and was immediately hailed by Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He sat down, composing himself.

"Good Morning, Draco," simpered Pansy. "Where were you yesterday?" She pouted her lower lip absurdly, and added, "I missed you."

Draco gave a sharp nod. "Hospital wing," he said shortly.

Pansy gasped, and brought her neatly manicured fingers to her mouth in a show of surprise and sympathy. "What happened?"

"I didn't feel well," Draco answered in a voice that clearly said he wasn't going to give any further explanation.

"We--uh--thought it might have had something to do with Zacharias Smith--uh--so we beat him up," said Goyle, pointing proudly to the Ravenclaw table where Smith was trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose, and Luna Lovegood was trying to fix his torn jumper. Draco felt momentarily sorry for the boy, as Crabbe and Goyle were both twice his size, but banished these thoughts, remembering how Smith had rubbed it in his face when Ravenclaw had beaten Slytherin at Quidditch last year.

His eyes swept over to the Gryffindor table. They rested on Potter, and he felt a great surge of dislike. Next to Potter, he always seemed like the villain. It was only because Potter was such a-- a-- Gryffindor. He touched his check, feeling the slight bruise, which still remained of Potter's attack on him.

Next his eyes focused on the person next to Potter. It was that Mudblood, Granger. She was talking animatedly to Potter, no doubt about something completely superfluous like House-elf rights, and Potter was nodding, though it couldn't have been clearer that he wasn't listening to a word.

In the midst of a sentence, one of Grangers wildly gesturing hands caught the girl sitting next to her on the side of the head. Draco watched as Hermione blustered an apology, and stared down at her breakfast plate, embarrassed. Ginny patted Hermione on the back, and rubbed the side of her own head. She whispered something to Hermione, who giggled, and looked very much cheered up.

Still chuckling, Ginny looked away from Hermione and in a split second, her eyes locked with Draco's across the hall. The smile dropped off of her face and she blushed, looking away.

"Well, I'm off, Draco!" said Pansy loudly, shoving her chair away from the table and standing up.

"What? Oh. Ok then," said Draco.

Pansy glared at him, following his gaze to the Gryffindor table, where Ginny was now chatting with Neville Longbottom. She stormed out of the hall, ignoring the quizzical looks she was getting from her fellow Slytherins.

Draco watched her go. He felt a cool rush of relief that he had more or less avoided her questions about his night in the Hospital wing. He looked down at his breakfast plate, still empty except for an egg, which was disposing of its yellow innards all over his plate.

"Feeling better?"

Draco looked up as Blaise sat down across from him, taking the seat that Pansy had vacated. "Yeah, thanks."

"I found you, you know," said Blaise quietly, "Yesterday, in the hall."

Draco fought to remain composed. "Really?" he drawled coolly.

Blaise nodded. "That Weasley girl was with you. What on earth happened?"

Draco surveyed her with narrowed eyes. "And tell me, Zabini," he said, "Why should I tell you?"

Blaise stared back steadily. "Because if it wasn't for me, you'd still be down in that hallways, slowly bleeding to death. Really smart move, Draco, to get hurt in one of those rarely used corridors."

Draco sighed. "Fine, you win. I was just leaving breakfast. I headed for the common room and," he shrugged, "I fell."

"So why was the Weasley girl there?" Blaise asked with the air of someone not being told the entire truth.

"I don't know," Draco replied honestly.

And it was true, he thought. If Ginny had indeed been down that hallway too... But only Slytherins used that hallway, it was so cold, and dark, and out of the way. He couldn't think how she knew about it at all, or why she would choose to take it, instead of a wider, brighter hallway.

Yes, Draco ruminated, there was quite a lot he didn't know about Ginny Weasley.