Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter Nine: The Dream That Shattered in Two

"Ginny Weasley is our guest. Anyone who has problems with that can speak to Blaise, Damian, or myself." Draco Malfoy's voice rang out across the Slytherin common room, and Frédéric had to stop himself from jumping, startled. He was curled in a chair in the corner, plowing his way through the most abominably boring History of Magic text ever written, when Draco's voice sliced, knifelike, through his concentration.

Frédéric frowned. Technically, he was supposed to monitor Ginny, keeping track of her actions and posting them to his father. But he was emotionally exhausted from the stress of starting a new school and his head pounded- English seemed a loud, coarse language compared to his native French, and it contributed all the further to his overwhelming feeling of homesickness. He rose from his chair, moving toward the dormitory that housed the fifth-year girls. He'd get Georgine to watch the Weasley girl tonight.

"I won't do it," his twin snapped imperiously.

Frédéric stared at Georgine, aghast. "What do you mean you won't do it?"

Georgine's lower lip thrust out slightly. "I hate her," she pouted. Frédéric rolled his eyes. Georgine was awful when she was like this, and considering that she was out from underneath the shadows cast by Eliane and Delphine, with no Celeste to keep her in line, she was certain to be petulant and difficult far more often than usual.

"And why do you hate her, Ji?" he replied condescendingly.

"Don't you patronize me, Frédéric Belleton!" Georgine crossed her arms over her chest huffily. "She pretended to be me, she stole my clothes, and today, she shoved me to the floor and was all around a nasty bitch. So you can just go deal with her."

"She seems to be a friend of Draco Malfoy's," Frédéric said thoughtfully, ignoring his sister's outburst. "Don't you find that interesting?"

"I don't find anything about Ginny Weasley interesting," Georgine sulked. "And I can't believe Draco would be friends with her. He's far too much like us."

Frédéric glowered at his twin, not liking this new side of her at all. Where was the normally mischievous and witty Georgine? "I'm just saying," he replied irritably, "that when she came in with the Zabinis, Draco stood up for her, saying that anyone who didn't like having her here could talk to him, Blaise or Damian."

Georgine narrowed her eyes. "He might be the son of Father's associate, but I'm not so sure I like Draco, Eff." She shook her bright curls. "This Slytherin House isn't all that impressive. I thought these were supposed to be the children of the best wizards in Britain, but I wouldn't hire most of them to shine my shoes, much less hex my enemy."

To his surprise, Frédéric was forced to suppress a rising tide of irritation with his sister. Normally, they agreed on almost everything, but unlike Georgine, Frédéric actually quite liked most of the Slytherins he'd met. The fifth-year boys were friendly, sarcastic and amusing, and Damian Godswift had the potential to become a very good mate- he'd been particularly helpful with getting Frédéric settled into classes and Hogwarts life in general. Damian was no René Marchincourt, Frédéric reminded himself hurriedly, but he was definitely a quality guy. "I think some of them have redeeming aspects," he said cautiously.

Reluctantly, Georgine nodded. "True. I rather like Pansy Parkinson- she's a sixth-year. And I think Moira Quinn and Anobel Armour are all right, too," she said, naming some fellow fifth-years. She wrinkled her nose. "I thought I'd like Bronwen Zabini- she plays Quidditch, and she just seems like our type. But I've seen her several times with the Weasley girl." A sigh. "Same thing as with Draco."

"I think you need to be careful when stating opinions about Draco, Ji," Frédéric cautioned. "He seems to pretty much have the run of Slytherin House, and we are new here, after all."

"I know, I know, and he's Mr. Malfoy's son," Georgine recited, annoyed. Then her eyes lit suddenly, and she was her old self again. Frédéric breathed a sigh of relief- perhaps it was just that homesickness was adversely affecting Georgine, too. "Eff, do you think Mr. Malfoy is Icarus? I've been wondering since Father told us about him."

Frédéric shook his head, pleased by the change in topic. "But we've met Mr. Malfoy. So why would Father be so secretive?"

She shrugged. "To keep us from accidentally giving it away?"

"Maybe," Frédéric replied, but he wasn't convinced. "Have you got any information to send him?"

A shake of the head. "Not yet," Georgine said despondently. She brightened abruptly. "I'll make you a deal, Eff. I watch Harry Potter, and write the letters to Icarus, and you can have the two Weasleys and write to Father."

Frédéric paused, considering. Georgine was clearly offering him the better option- did she really want to avoid Ginny Weasley that badly? He shrugged. "Alright."

His twin smiled triumphantly. "Good," she said, satisfied. Her blue eyes sparkled, and in that moment she looked very much like Delphine. "I have a plan, Frédéric, and I think I can make it work."

But more than that, no matter how much he pleaded and cajoled, she refused to say.

***

Ginny was pushed roughly out of the common room and back through the portrait hole. "See here now!" the Fat Lady shouted indignantly, but neither Ginny nor her assailant paid her any heed. Ginny squinted at her attacker in the dim torchlight.

"Hermione?" she panted, still trembling from the shock. "What on earth did you do that for?"

The older girl, clad in nightgown and bathrobe, folded her arms over her chest, glaring at her fellow Gryffindor. "Saving your sorry self, that's what," she snapped crossly. "Ron told me and Harry everything, Ginny, and Harry is so upset." She glanced back at the entrance to the common room. "They've both been waiting up for you, and only just fell asleep in front of the fire."

Ginny's eyes widened. "They- they've been waiting up just for me?" She couldn't help but be surprised; since when did Ron and Harry waste their time on her? A year ago, she would have been delighted to be the focal point of the famous trio, but now she was just annoyed. "Don't they have anything better to do?" she asked irritably.

Hermione looked disgusted. "You're welcome," she said dryly. "Really, it was no problem at all, waiting up for you when I could have been studying or sleeping."

"I'm sorry," Ginny apologized. "Thank you, Hermione." She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, wondering how much the other girl knew. "Um, did they say exactly what they were upset about?"

Hermione's eyes darted to the left and right, checking the hallway for Filch or Mrs. Norris. Any patrolling prefects would likely let them off the hook. "Well, they both know you snuck off to meet Blaise and Bronwen Zabini tonight." She took a deep breath. "But Ron told me he thinks they took you to the Slytherin common room, and that you were there to see Malfoy. And he says you won't tell him anything anymore, and that he's worried about you."

Ginny mirrored Hermione's closed posture, but her body radiated anger instead of nervousness. "It is none of their business," she said icily. "I appreciate your warning, Hermione, but I am sick and tired of both of them treating me like a seven-year-old."

"They do it because they love you, Gin-"

Ginny's expression was chilly. "I wish they'd show it in a different way." She pulled away from Hermione, reentering the common room. Tiptoeing past the sleeping Harry and Ron, she slipped into her dormitory, shaking with rage. She'd deal with them tomorrow at breakfast.

***

"It's eight o'clock, Ginny, you're going to miss breakfast if you don't get up soon," said a bossy voice from above Ginny's head. Lacy Graham stood next to her year-mate's four-poster, hands on her narrow hips. "You'd better hurry."

Ginny groaned, pressing her face into her pillow to shut out the sunlight. "Don' wanna," she whined pitifully to the pillow.

"Well, it's not my fault you stayed up until Circe-knows-when, doing Merlin-only-knows-what."

A sigh escaped Ginny's lips, and she surfaced from under the duvet, strands of hair sticking up every-which-way. "Fine, I know. Thanks, Lacy, I'll be there in a minute. You'll wait for me?" Her dormmates annoyed her, but she didn't want to chance being caught in the hallway alone, especially not as the Slytherins were coming up for breakfast. Ginny had decided the night before, as she fought the onslaught of sleep, that Draco's previous actions had been nothing but a new breed of taunting; she was silly to think it could be anything else, and she was a fool to give up Harry (annoying though he could sometimes be) for the increasingly-remote chance at a date with an arrogant prick like Draco- no, Malfoy, she corrected herself. His new interest in her was solely because she was Harry's- she was probably just an unwitting pawn in the old rivalry.

She knew she was bouncing back and forth on the topic of Draco, but she couldn't help it- the messages he sent her were as convoluted as a house elf's logic.

Lacy looked displeased, but she nodded. "We'll be in the common room. Come quickly."

Rolling out of bed and haphazardly replacing the covers, Ginny looked to the heap of clothes that were messily scattered in her part of the room. She blinked, dismayed. Her stack of clothes- someone had taken them! She'd tried on several outfits yesterday before arriving at one that suited her, and she'd left the rest in a pile, to be sorted out later. A groan escaped her lips. The castle's house elves must have taken them, thinking they were dirty. Now what was she going to wear?

Digging to the very bottom of her trunk, she finally found an old skirt and a white T-shirt trimmed in Gryffindor colors with "SEEKER" emblazoned on the front. It had been Charlie's, but it would do- people would probably think she'd borrowed it from Harry. Maybe it would mollify Harry, too, as a show of obvious girlfriendly support.

She flounced down the tower steps, her heavy boots making loud slaps on the stone. Lacy gave her a look of disgust as she entered the common room. "Really, Ginny. Your hair. And that skirt is about three sizes too small."

Ginny shrugged, combing fingers through her bed-head hair. Grace Pensfold cut into the conversation, giggling. "Well, I think it's great. Since it's so short, it looks good with your tall boots." Her eyes widened. "Did Harry give you that shirt?"

"No, I stole it off a Ravenclaw third-year," Ginny snapped, the combination of morning, lack of sleep, and girly housemates causing her patience to fray rapidly. "Yes, of course it's Harry's."

"Wow," Grace replied, tone awed. "You're so lucky to finally be with him, Ginny. He's so smart and good-looking, and famous...."

"And she's been in love with him forever, and it's not that interesting," Lacy interjected irritably. "Let's go, shall we?"

Ginny nodded in a semblance of agreeability, but inside, she was fuming. She had never, in all of her childish daydreams, realized what a colossal pain in the arse it would be to be Harry Potter's girlfriend.

It was in this particularly sullen frame of mind that Ginny arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, having ignored the mindless nattering of her two housemates as they walked through the corridors. Unsurprisingly, Ron and Harry had saved her a place across from them at the Gryffindor table, and she fell into it grouchily, not wanting to speak with either of them.

"Morning," she said grumpily, slouching over a bowl of porridge.

"Little bit tired, huh, Gin?" Ron asked. "Must be difficult to stay up all night, hanging out with the Slytherins."

Ignoring her brother, Ginny turned tired, slightly puffy eyes to Harry, feeling a lukewarm need to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Are you angry?" she asked drily.

He frowned. "I was last night. Depending on where you were and who you were with, I still might be."

Ginny felt a rising tide of anger wash over her. How dare he say that to her? As if he had any right to control what she did- She felt her weak desire to be a good girlfriend melt away, and she realized she didn't love Harry- not at all. Especially not when he treated her like this. Any girlish vision she'd still carried with her of Harry as a bright, beautiful knight in shining armor shattered irrevocably into a million pieces. "Ron's right," she spat, temper ignited. "I was in Slytherin House, with a whole bunch of big, bad, nasty Slytherins." Her eyes glittered evilly. "And we did all kinds of unspeakable Dark Arts things, then we killed three baby birds and tortured a butterfly. And then-"

Ron started to snap angrily at his sister, but Harry held up a hand, green eyes glowing with a rage Ginny hadn't known he possessed. "That is not funny, Ginny. Not remotely." Two bright spots of red had flowered on his pale cheeks. "The Dark Arts are disgusting. And the Slytherins are disgusting." His voice was brittle. "If you'll remember, it was Slytherins who killed my parents." He pushed away from the table so quickly that his chair tumbled backward with a loud crash, and students from other tables craned their necks to see what was happening with the Gryffindors. Ignoring the commotion, Harry disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall.

Hermione, who had until this point remained silent, finally piped up. "Ginny, why did I bother warning you last night, if this is what you say to him?" she asked, exasperated.

"You what?!" Ron demanded, shocked eyes flickering from girlfriend to sister and back again. His face briefly registered betrayal, then all emotion disappeared. "I can't believe either of you," he snapped, voice icy.

"Ron-" Hermione began.

"Don't talk to me." Ginny stared at her brother- she hadn't seen him this angry in quite a long while. Catching Hermione's eye, she shook her head, and the three of them sat in stony silence for the rest of the meal. The Gryffindors around them would occasionally try to dispel the unpleasant mood with a comment, but it wasn't until mail arrived that Ginny was partially distracted from the methodical stirring of her porridge. Not that mail was ever terribly interesting- she never received anything more than the usual school announcements, and even those were now generally delivered to her prefect mailbox.

No sooner had she sullenly thought that she certainly wouldn't be getting something today than Pigwidgeon appeared out of nowhere, flitting about her head excitedly. "What've you got, Pig?" Ginny asked, feeding him a bit of her bacon. He chirped appreciatively, dropping the letter that was clutched in his claws. She patted his head, then opened the letter.

Dear Ginny,

How's everything at Hogwarts? Going well for you, I hope. I'm writing to let you know that I'll be visiting for a few weeks, because Dumbledore has asked for my help with some research he's doing. Things have been slow with the dragons here in Romania, so I'm looking forward to the vacation. Please share this news with Ron, Hermione, and Harry as well. Looking forward to seeing all of you next Thursday.

Love,

Charlie

"Charlie's going to be here next week," Ginny said to Hermione, knowing this would snap Ron out of his funk.

"Oh, really? Why?" Hermione asked, giving Ginny a small smile. Ron had straightened, listening to their conversation.

Ginny smiled back. "Apparently Dumbledore's asked for some help with research." She deliberately made her voice louder than necessary, pretending she was talking to Great-Grandfather Weasley. "Can you hear that, Ron? Or are you still too busy ignoring us?"

Ron glared. "I have a right to know that my own brother is visiting," he said waspishly.

"True," Ginny conceded. "However. I also have a right to visit my friends. And Hermione has a right to come talk to me, if she wants." She reached forward and squeezed her brother's arm. "I know you're smarter than the immature git you pretend to be. So make up with your girlfriend, you two are Hogwarts's cutest couple." She rose, gathering her books. "I'm going to find Harry and apologize- what I said to him was thoughtless. I'll see you two later."

Walking past the Ravenclaw table, Ginny paused to chat with Fiona, and was briefly accosted by Cho Chang- Ginny was forced to patiently tell the Head Girl that, yes, she remembered that they had rounds tonight, and no, she wouldn't be late. "I promise," Ginny said, face serious but eyes sparkling.

"I'll believe it when I see you at the staircase. Eight o'clock exactly, Ginny," Cho warned.

"Uh-huh," Ginny called over her shoulder as she slipped past the Slytherins. Bronwen waved, so Ginny stopped next to her. "Morning. What's up?"

Bronwen's eyes flicked down to where Draco Malfoy was holding court, telling the tale of his chess victory to those who had gone to bed before the great win. "I saw Harry storm out a little bit ago. Did you do it?"

Ginny took the seat that had just been vacated by Pearl Gedgrave, ignoring a nasty look from Georgine Belleton. "Not yet," she whispered. "But I've just decided it's going to be soon."

"Good," Bronwen said firmly. She leaned closer to her friend, eyes sparkling with conspiratorial delight. "You and Draco are going to be a much better couple!"

Ginny avoided her friend's eyes. "Um, Bron, about that-"

"Oh, no, Ginny Weasley, you are not chickening out of this," Bronwen whispered furiously. "Yesterday, bloody yesterday you were on cloud nine at the very thought of him liking you."

Ginny rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'm just sick of boys." She rose. "I need to go talk to Harry. See you in Potions?"

Bronwen nodded, but she seemed disappointed. "See you then," she replied sulkily.

***

Ginny did eventually find Harry in the library, but not until later that day, after classes were finished. He was sitting near the back, curled up with a book.

"Harry?"

Abruptly, he snapped the book closed, slipping it underneath a sheet of parchment. "Hullo, Ginny," he replied warily. She took the seat across from him, wringing her hands.

"Er, Harry, I'd like to talk to you about a few things."

He nodded, expression blank. "Alright."

"First, I wanted to apologize for what happened this morning. It was uncalled for, and I'm sorry." She searched his face, but it was still unreadable. He nodded again, mutely.

"Do you accept my apology?" she prodded.

Harry sighed. "Yes, Ginny, I do. But it really frustrates me that you feel the need to run off with Ravenclaws and Slytherins all the time. What's wrong with Gryffindors? Why don't you ever spend time with me, Hermione, and Ron?"

Ginny shot him an irritated look. "Because you, Hermione, and Ron have always been just you, Hermione, and Ron! Do you know what a closed circle that is? And there's nothing wrong with Gryffindors, Harry- I'm proud of our House and what we stand for. But you know I've never really made friends with the girls in my year."

His shoulders slumped, and he exuded exasperation. "Well, then spend time with those girls, Ginny, get to know them. You need to let go of the past. Get over it."

Ginny's eyes were wide. "Get over it?" she hissed angrily. Her brown eyes flashed fire. "Harry, I almost lost my life to You-Know-Who, and you feel the right to blithely sit there and tell me to just get over it? Yes, you and Ron rescued me. But as soon as I was pulled from the Chamber, that was it- everything was supposed to be fine. I was supposed to be sunny little dishrag Ginny again." Her voice shook with rage.

"Gin, I-"

"Let. Me. Finish," she ordered, blood throbbing in her ears. "The Gryffindor girls in my year thought I was strange and secretive, and you, Ron, and Hermione were too busy with Sirius, and then with the Triwizard Tournament, to notice that I even existed.

"But a girl in my Transfiguration class noticed me. She saw how the simplest things made me cry, how I would jump at the slightest noise, how I was always looking over my shoulder.

"And that girl was a Ravenclaw, Harry. Not a Gryffindor."

Ginny continued. "And she introduced me to another girl, a friend of hers from childhood. This girl made me laugh, and she told me everything she could about defending myself. She showed me that I would be stronger if I learned to confront my fears instead of shying away from them. The fact that she was a Slytherin frightened me, but Fiona trusted her, so I learned to, too. And I'd be a very different person if it weren't for Bronwen."

Harry looked edgy. "Why are you telling me this, Gin?"

She sighed, temper dying almost as quickly as it had flashed into being. "It's just- I've discovered, now that you and Ron and Hermione are willing to have me as part of your clique, it's not what I want anymore." She was shocked to find her eyes brimming with tears, and she ducked her head, trying to will them away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "A month ago, I thought you were everything. But I-"

A pause as she steeled herself. "I can't be your girlfriend, Harry," she said to the tops of her boots. "It's just not right." She raised her eyes, full of apology, to meet his.

Harry's expression was stony. "How could you, Ginny?" he asked, voice distant, hollow. "You follow me for years, let me think I'm the only thing in the universe that matters to you, and when I finally realize that Cho Chang isn't the girl I want, that the perfect girl is right under my nose- my best friend's sister- all you can say to me is 'it's just not right?'" His eyes narrowed, and she shivered, suddenly fearful. "I will never forgive you for this. Never."

She rose from her chair, stepped close to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Harry- I still want to be your friend- I-"

"I want nothing to do with you," he forced out, recoiling from her touch. "Nothing. You lied to me, Ginny, telling me this summer that you wanted to be my girlfriend, that you always had." His eyes widened with sudden realization, and he inhaled sharply. "So the rumors are true, then. You do want Draco Malfoy."

Harry's face twisted, and he looked dangerously close to being sick. "I didn't think it was possible. But everything you've told me is lies, isn't it? You've been tainted by Voldemort, Ginny, you're as despicable as all those Slytherins you call 'friend.'" Gathering his things, he stalked away from her.

Ginny felt weak and raw inside, as if someone had been using her as a practice dummy for the Cruciatus Curse. Walking dazedly to a seat in front of a stained-glass window, she slumped into the corner, holding her trembling hands in front of her. "Oh, that went well," she whispered sarcastically before she burst into tears.

***

Draco Malfoy's head snapped up from the Potions essay he was working on halfheartedly. Someone nearby was crying, and doing a rather sorry job of muffling the noise. "Damn Hufflepuffs," he muttered. He was torn- it was tempting to go snap at the sniffling idiot for interrupting his studying, but he also didn't really like dealing with the most likely breed of sniveling git: a homesick Mudblood first-year. He had fulfilled prefectural obligations yesterday by taking that Ravenclaw boy to the Hospital Wing- he didn't think he should have to do anything further today.

The sobbing abruptly shuddered to a halt, and Draco changed his mind. Ginny Weasley had virtually ignored him all of last night, and it had stung; he needed a bit of an ego boost, and nothing did that quite like insulting someone who couldn't fight back. Leaving his books on the table, he wandered toward the windows at the back of the library.

His eyes automatically widened in disgust at what he saw. Curled on a bench under the stained-glass portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw was none other than Ginny Weasley herself; not the beautiful and self-assured Ginny he'd been toying with recently, but the old self-pitying, sniffling Ginny who had about as much personality and inner fire as a wet pair of socks. Before he could stop himself, he blurted irritably, "What are you doing, Weasley? Potter tell you he doesn't love you anymore?"

Ginny's head snapped up, and she forcefully ran her hand across her eyes, rubbing the tears away. "Sod off, Malfoy." She stood, shaking. "I mean it. I hate you. Go the fuck away."

Draco's eyebrows shot up, and he realized he'd been wrong. Ridiculously short skirt, arse-kicker boots, and eyes that flashed with bright loathing and a definite devil-may-care- this was still the new and oh-so-sexy Ginny.

Then why the hell had she been curled up in the library, crying like a small child? Draco didn't move from his spot. "No, seriously, Weasley. What's wrong with you?"

Her mouth twisted into a disturbing mockery of a smile. "Oh, I'd love to tell you, Malfoy. But it would only improve your day, and I'm just not in the mood to make anyone feel good right now- least of all you." She pushed past him, literally shoving him into a nearby bookcase. "Stay out of things that don't involve you," she snapped over her shoulder as she stormed out of the library.

Draco stared after her for a moment, admiring the way she walked when she was angry. Sexiest girl at Hogwarts, there was no question about it. Other girls might be more classically beautiful, but Ginny was somehow... spectacular. With a shrug, he went back to his Potions essay, determined to finish it before dinner. If thoughts of Weasley and her short skirt didn't distract him in the mean time.

"Draco."

He looked up, annoyed. "Bronwen. What do you want?"

His housemate crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, aren't we nasty today?" she huffed rhetorically. "I was just going to ask if you'd seen Ginny Weasley in here at all, but if you're going to be a prick, I won't waste my time." She started to walk away.

Draco decided to risk it. "Wait, Bronwen- why?"

Bronwen seemed to consider for a moment, then she smiled. "Well, I heard a rumor that she was going to break up with Harry Potter today, and I was going to find her and see if it was the truth."

Draco weighed these words. Bronwen was telling him something without saying it outright; that much was clear. She was one of Ginny's best friends, and if Ginny was ditching Potter, Bronwen would be one of the first to know.

So that was why she'd been crying.... "She was through here about ten minutes ago. Told me to sod off, then stormed out."

"She told you to sod off?" Bronwen giggled. "Oh, that's rich!"

Draco glared. "Anyway, I don't know where she went, and frankly, I don't care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm meant to be sodding off, so you'd better go."

Bronwen looked ready to choke on her own mirth. "Alright, you have fun with that, Malfoy. See you at dinner." And she walked away, still chuckling.

Draco looked back at his essay- there was no way he was going to complete it now. Not with thoughts of a single, Potter-free Ginny floating around his head. He recalled his recent encounters with her, then pondered his little bet with himself. Before Christmas, he decided. Beginning of the Quidditch season. That would be ideal.

***

Not knowing where to go after he left the library- he definitely didn't feel like being ensconced in the cheery atmosphere of Gryffindor common room- Harry slipped into an empty classroom, collapsing in a desk near the door. He put his head down on the smooth wood surface for a few moments, breathing hard.

"Oh! I didn't realize someone had come in," said a bright, feminine voice.

Harry raised his head. A pretty red-haired girl, dressed in only her uniform skirt and button-down blouse, was standing in the doorway to the classroom supply closet, holding a goblet, a caged mouse, and a wicker basket. Harry cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought the classroom was empty- if you need to work, I can go."

"It's alright," said the girl, "I was just going to practice for awhile- Professor McGonagall seems to think I'm behind in Transfiguration, and I'd like to move up with my own class." She smiled. "I'm Georgine Belleton, by the way."

Georgine Belleton. Harry recognized the name as belonging to the new girl from Beauxbatons, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what House she'd been Sorted into- he'd been speculating with Ron and Hermione about the new Defense professor at the time. She wasn't a Gryffindor, he knew that much for sure, but maybe she was a Hufflepuff- she seemed very cute and cheery. "I'm Harry Potter," he replied weakly.

She laughed. "Oh, I know. Even in France, I'd heard of you." She gave him a look of concern. "Are you alright? You don't look like you're feeling so well."

Harry flushed. "I- I'll be okay."

Georgine took the seat in front of him, sitting backwards so they could talk. "I don't think so," she said flatly. "Why don't you tell me about it?" A charming smile. "After all," she continued, playing for pity, "I don't have many friends here, and you look like you could use one, too."

Hesitantly, Harry returned the smile. It was true- it would be nice to talk to someone. And Ron and Hermione were always so wrapped up in each other. "Well, I was dating this girl..."

***

Ginny skipped dinner that night, deciding to enjoy the summery September air while it lasted. Besides, she didn't want to be cooped up inside anymore- after the two nasty encounters she'd endured with Harry and Draco that afternoon, she wasn't sure she could stand another. Hopefully a walk around the grounds would put her in a better frame of mind.

She was just nearing Hagrid's hut when the door flung open and an impossibly large trunk popped out onto the lawn, narrowly missing Ginny; she shrank against the wall of the hut in order to avoid being squashed into oblivion. Hagrid's dog, Fang, followed the trunk outside and immediately began barking at Ginny.

"Hullo? Who's out there?" Hagrid stuck his head out the door.

"It's just me, Hagrid," Ginny called. "Ginny Weasley."

"Oh, all right there, Ginny?" Hagrid asked. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Bin enjoying the new term, have you?"

Ginny stepped forward, scratching Fang's ears. She'd always been fond of the big behemoth- he was a sweet dog, really. "Not really," she said dejectedly, dodging a large glop of slobber that was sliding down Fang's chin.

Hagrid caught the sad note in her voice. "Want to come in?" he asked. "Made some baked lampreys if ye'd care to join me for dinner."

She smiled. "I'd love to come in, though I'll pass on the food. I'm really not hungry today." She followed Hagrid inside. She had always enjoyed the gamekeeper's company, and he had never been anything but nice to her, but he also always made her feel a bit nervous- she often wondered if he knew that his brief stay in Azkaban had been her fault. She hoped not.

"So," Hagrid began after she was settled in an overlarge chair, "what's bin botherin' you?" He peered closely at her. "Classes, is it?"

"No," Ginny said hesitantly. "Not classes." She decided to skirt the subject for a little while. "Hagrid, are you going on a trip?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, no one's really supposed ter know-"

"Oh, you can tell me, Hagrid," Ginny purred, thankful for the distraction.

"Well, alright, seeing as I can trust you, Ginny- I'm off to France this evening. Train leaves at nine."

Ginny blinked. "France?" Then she remembered a tidbit of gossip from her third year, and her face lit with a sly grin. "Ah, a little visit to Beauxbatons and Madam Maxime, hmm?"

Hagrid's face turned bright red above his bushy beard. "Finally patched things up, the two of us. You'll not tell anyone until Professor Dumbledore announces it to the school, will you? Cho Chang, my teaching assistant, will be helping with the Stavanger Stallions until they find a more permanent teacher, and-"

"Of course I won't," Ginny said firmly, meaning her words. "I promise." She would have to try to remember to ask Cho about teaching the class, though; she had heard the older girl was excellent at Care of Magical Creatures (was there anything at which Cho didn't excel?), but she hadn't realized Cho was Hagrid's teaching assistant. Head Girl, Quidditch Seeker, Ginny's mentor, and caretaker for an entire herd of fire-breathing Norwegian horses? Cho bemoaned that she didn't date because boys thought she was cursed, but Ginny wondered if the older girl really had the time for a relationship.

Cho Chang... promises... "Damnit!" she cried.

Hagrid looked at her quizzically. "Ginny?"

"Hagrid, what time is it?"

He checked his watch. "Only eight-oh-nine- don't worry, I've got plenty of time."

Ginny sprang out of her seat as if someone had lit a Filibuster Firecracker underneath her. "I was meant to meet with Cho at eight o'clock- oh, she'll kill me!"

Hagrid didn't seem perturbed. "Oh, all right, then." He hesitated. "Maybe tell Harry and them that I've gone, won't you? Wouldn't want 'em worryin'."

"Of course," Ginny replied with a brittle smile. She reached for the door handle.

"Oh, and, Ginny?"

"Yes?" she asked impatiently.

"What was it you needed to talk about?"

She plastered a bright grin on her face. "Oh, nothing, Hagrid, don't worry about me. Have a wonderful time in France!"

Sprinting up the lawn and to the castle, Ginny heard the eight-fifteen bell ring. "Damn, damn, damn!" she muttered, scooting through the front doors and skidding to a stop at the foot of the main staircase. She looked ruefully up at Cho, who was gazing down at her with an amused expression on her face.

"Sorry," Ginny said weakly.

Cho shook her head. "Ginny Weasley, you are the worst prefect I've ever seen," she said, trying to mask a smile.

Ginny grinned, forcing thoughts of her terrible day out of her mind. "And I'm the best Gryffindor girl in my year. So just imagine the others."

"Stuff of nightmares, I'm sure," Cho replied, chuckling. "Either that or Professor McGonagall has a little soft spot for you."

A roll of the eyes. "That, I would sincerely doubt. Everything about that woman is angular."

Cho snickered, then put on her "business face." "Alright, Ginny, since we're fifteen minutes behind, we desperately need to get a start on things." She consulted a piece of paper. "Filch has given us the Transfiguration and Arithmancy hallways, the dungeons, the Hospital Wing, and everything in between. We're on duty until two o'clock, and we're allowed to take breaks in the Prefects' Room, where there's cocoa and pumpkin pastries for snacks. Ready?"

Ginny nodded. "Let's go."

As Ginny had expected, rounds themselves were terrifically boring, though Cho made good company- they argued Quidditch, chatted about classes and professors, and shared stories about their families. Cho was very amused by the tale of Black Current Cake, and Ginny was fascinated by Cho's upbringing- her father was a wizard, but her mum was a Muggle, and her house sounded like a virtual wonderland of exotic Muggle objects mixed with the everyday magical.

"So, your older sister is a Muggle?"

Cho nodded, an odd expression in her eyes. "Yes, she's a Cambridge student. Right now she's abroad, studying nineteenth-century French and German philosophy."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Sounds very Ravenclaw-ish."

A laugh. "Well, she probably would have been! But she's happy being a Muggle, I think- rather impossible to separate her from her mobile, so I think she'd be at a bit of a loss here at Hogwarts."

"Mobile?"

"Er, it's a communication object that you can carry around and use to talk to other people who have them."

"Like a portable Floo?"

Cho smiled. "Sort of."

"Amazing," Ginny mused, impressed. "What about your parents?"

"Have you heard of Chang, Chang, and Godfried, Esq.?" Cho queried. Ginny shook her head.

"It's my parents' legal firm. They're both barristers, one of the Muggle variety, one wizard, but they generally work together- for example, they were involved in the arrest of Sirius Black." Cho glanced at Ginny sharply, clearly wondering how her new friend would accept this information. Ginny had mentioned earlier in the conversation that Sirius was one of her heroes.

Ginny stared. "Your parents put Sirius Black in Azkaban?" She frowned. "But Sirius didn't have a trial- if they're barristers, how-"

Cho wouldn't meet her eyes. "They do other things," she said evasively. Ginny knew better than to try for more information on that topic.

"But- if your mother is a Muggle-?" she queried.

A terse nod. "She questioned the Muggle witnesses and did consultation for their families. My parents coordinate a lot of Muggle-wizard cases."

"Oh," Ginny replied listlessly, not sure what to say.

"Ginny," Cho burst out suddenly, "you know they wouldn't have deliberately put an innocent person in Azkaban all the evidence pointed at Black, it seemed logical- But if we're going to work together- well, I thought you should know-"

"Cho- it's alright, I understand. Everyone thought Sirius was guilty, even his closest friends." Ginny was about to bring up a new topic when they heard the sounds of a heated argument further down the hall.

Pleased by Ginny's reaction but also relieved by the distraction, Cho checked her watch. "Quarter past ten- students should be in their common rooms right now, but those voices don't sound like teachers." She frowned, perplexed. "Actually, that doesn't even sound like English...."

They turned the corner past the Potions classroom and discovered a very strange sight- Frédéric Belleton was standing half inside the entrance to Slytherin common room, half out, one arm grasping at the door frame while the other was being tugged by his very angry-looking twin.

"Merde, Ji, j'ai des choses que je dois faire," he snapped. "Je t'ai dit au sujet de la chienne dans ma classe de Potions? Snape m'a dit que je dois étudier ainsi je puis prendre le cours de cinquième-année."

"Tu m'as promis, Eff. Tu dois y aller avec moi."

The twins turned, blanching at the sight of the Head Girl standing in a hallway they had thought was empty, her points notebook out and ready. "We're having a hard time remembering all the new rules," Georgine said innocently. "There are so many."

Cho rolled her eyes. "I'm recommending seven points from Slytherin," she said as she scribbled in her notebook. "Five points for one and a half students out during patrol hours, and another two for the disturbance."

"One and a half students?" Frédéric asked, incredulous. "You have to be joking."

"No," said Cho, pointedly fingering her Head Girl badge, "I'm not. Now why don't you two go back inside? If Ginny or I see you out of bed again, it will be another ten points and a detention."

Both twins' gazes fell on Ginny, who had until that point been trying her best to go unnoticed. She expected Georgine to glare nastily, but instead, the other girl smiled sweetly. "Oh, look, it's Harry Potter's little ex-girlfriend," she said, tone saccharine. "What are you doing down here again tonight- hoping to lift a few more of my pullovers?"

Ginny gasped. Where could Georgine have heard about what had happened with Harry? "How dare you-" she began, but she was cut off by Cho.

"Inside your common room, both of you, before I give you detention for harassing a prefect while she's on duty. Go!"

The twins slipped back inside, the stone door grinding closed behind them- Ginny couldn't help but notice that Frédéric gave her an odd look before he disappeared inside.

"What was all that about?" Cho demanded, concerned. "I thought-"

"I broke up with him this afternoon," Ginny replied weakly, leaning against the stone wall of the dungeon. "But I haven't told anyone- and Harry, he would only have told Hermione or Ron.... I don't understand."

Cho's gaze was full of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Ginny." Her brow furrowed. "Wasn't it just yesterday that you told me you were seeing him? I heard later that the Great Hall was absolutely buzzing about you two."

Ginny looked askance at Cho, annoyed- why was she insisting on talking about this, when Ginny wanted to know who the hell could have told Georgine Belleton about her breakup? "Um, yeah, it was yesterday," she said, hoping the irritation in her voice would give Cho the hint.

"Well, what happened?"

Clearly not. "I realized I was interested in someone else," she said distractedly. Who could have found out?

"Oh?" Cho asked, curious. "Whom?"

"Draco Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed.

Cho looked smug. "I knew it, I knew you fancied him."

An exasperated sigh. "No, no, not that-" a blush- "well, maybe that too, but I meant the person who would have known about me and Harry." She spilled the entire story of what had happened. "Draco must have overheard us."

Cho giggled. "You told him to sod off? I would have paid fifty quid to see that! Er, fifty Galleons," she amended, seeing the confusion that flitted across Ginny's face. It wasn't even close to an exact conversion, but the metaphor worked well enough.

Ginny smiled at the memory. "It did feel pretty good." Her face fell. "But, oh, Cho, I told him I hate him-"

"-which he probably sees as a turn-on," the older girl interjected hurriedly. "Wouldn't worry about it."

Ginny laughed, but she was still concerned. Telling Draco to sod off was one thing- it probably had amused him. But she had said she hated him, and at the time, she hadn't been kidding.

She'd meant it.

Just seeing his face, the way he'd asked, "What are you doing, Weasley?" His tone wasn't teasing at all; it had been the same old disgust she had always detected in his voice before. She'd suddenly wondered if she'd fabricated the whole thing in her mind, if his supposed interest in her was nothing more than her own wishful thinking. And she hated him for being in Diagon Alley with the Belletons that day, hated him for having read all the books by Sirius Black, hated him for being so goddamn rich and handsome when she was sitting there, plain and ordinary, just trying to have a good cry-

"Aren't you two supposed to be on rounds?" drawled a chilly voice. "While it's understandable that you'd want to wait outside my common room hoping to see me, the Headmaster tends to always think the school is in grave danger from the forces of evil, so maybe you should be off saving all of us mere mortals." Draco's gaze flicked from Cho's Ravenclaw badge to Ginny's Gryffindor one. "Chang, you can compose a lyric poem about how Weasley threw herself on a sword to save you."

Cho ignored his jibe at her house. "And aren't you, Malfoy," she said deliberately, incensed at being called by her last name, "supposed to be in your common room? Five points from Sl-"

"I have permission," Draco interrupted, "from Professor Snape." He held up an envelope. "Special correspondence from my father."

Cho held out her hand. "Let's see it," she demanded, clearly not believing him.

Draco slipped the envelope into his pocket, glaring at her. "It's personal," he snapped. Ginny reached for Cho's elbow, sensing something genuine about the unhappy tone in Draco's voice.

"Cho. Why don't we just go? We're terribly behind schedule." To her pleased surprise, Draco shot her a look of- not gratitude, but perhaps appreciation. She gave him a small smile- maybe he hadn't taken what she had said in the library to heart. If Draco Malfoy even had a heart, she mused sarcastically. "Besides, he's a prefect."

Cho still looked angry. "Not for long he won't be, with that attitude," she grumbled. "Fine. But try to keep the ego in check, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged, waiting.

Cho glared at him. "What?"

"Are you going to leave so I can say the password?"

"I'm the Head Girl, I know your bleeding password!" Cho bristled.

"But Ginny doesn't," Draco pointed out logically.

"Oh, fine," Cho groused. "Come on, Ginny, we still need to check the Hospital Wing."

***

As soon as the girls were out of sight, Draco tore the envelope out of his pocket, scanning the words quickly, his heart throbbing in his ears. It terrified him when Lucius sent letters late at night- At long last, he found the paragraph he was looking for.

...and your mother is doing about as well as can be expected. She says to tell you that she appreciates your letters, and that she is looking forward to seeing you over the Christmas holidays.

Draco's shoulders sagged with relief. So she was fine, then. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he was greatly concerned for his mother. Many had suffered from the dragon pox that plagued Great Britain last year, but the lingering effects on Narcissa Malfoy had been particularly worrisome.

His eyes traveled further down the page.

I expect an owl from you this week, Draco, concerning the Belleton twins. I trust you have been observing them, as I asked?

Regarding your last letter: we will discuss it over Christmas. Until then, cease pestering about it.

Draco's mouth quirked into an amused smile as he read that last line. Lucius Malfoy was a very formidable man when encountered in person, but on paper he had a knack for sounding like a fussy old woman.

Pleased overall, he stuffed the letter back in his pocket, intending to burn it in the common room fireplace.

He was halfway to the hearth when he realized the room wasn't empty. Frédéric and Georgine Belleton were sitting in chairs close to the fire, arguing in hushed voices. Draco crept closer, trying to catch snippets of their conversation.

"Mais je ne sais pas pourquoi, Eff... les anglais sont... et Poudlard est... trois ans... c'est seulement à cause de... les choses à faire... Il vaut mieux que-"

Draco pulled out his wand, hoping it wouldn't rustle against the fabric of his clothes and draw the twins' attention. "Comprehendus," he whispered.

"But I don't know why, Eff... the English are... and Hogwarts is... three years... it's just because of... things to do... It would be better to-"

Frédéric made a low, unintelligible reply, then Draco heard Georgine's higher voice again. "Father says... but the Weasleys, and as far as that... Harry, too."

There was a moment of silence, then Frédéric rose abruptly, turning and almost running smack into Draco. "Good evening, Malfoy," he said sarcastically, voice dripping acid. "How long have you been here?" Georgine looked up and gasped.

"You've been eavesdropping on us!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't speak French," he replied snidely. "But I did catch something about the Weasleys."

Frédéric just glared, but Georgine rose from the couch, her expression angry. "Malfoy," she said slowly, as if rolling the word around in her mouth. "That's an interesting name. Mal foi. Means 'bad faith,'" she said coolly, her implication quite clear. With a parting nasty look, Georgine disappeared into the fifth-year girls' dormitory.

"Forget whatever you heard, Draco," Frédéric said carefully, his eyes glittering oddly in the firelight. "It doesn't concern you."

Draco saw an opportunity- even if Georgine didn't trust him, maybe he could win over Frédéric- after all, he seemed chummy with Damian Godswift, so perhaps he would be more easily convinced than Georgine. "Anything you need help with, Frédéric, I can do. Slytherins help each other when needed."

Frédéric's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be measuring Draco up. "Maybe." He wouldn't say anything further, but Draco considered it a small victory, and he was sure he'd be ableeze more out of the other boy later.

"Good night," Draco said pointedly. Frédéric rose silently, giving Draco a sardonic look of appraisal before closing his dormitory door behind him. Draco tossed his father's letter into the fire and waited for every scrap to melt into unrecognizable ash.

***

The next morning, Ginny avoided the Dream Team at breakfast, taking an empty seat by Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan instead. It wasn't until halfway through the meal, when Hermione dropped by to squeeze her shoulder and sympathetically whisper, "I see you two haven't quite patched up your fight yet," that Ginny realized Harry hadn't told either of his two best friends about their breakup.

She frowned, using a spoon to smash her remaining breakfast into unrecognizable oblivion. So the end of their relationship was a secret, then? Well, that suited her for the moment. It did seem a little silly to make such a scene in the Great Hall two days ago, only to announce to the entire school that they now hated each other. She amended that slightly. Now that Harry hates me, she thought sadly.

"Ginny," said a lilting voice from her left, "that breakfast didn't do anything to deserve such treatment."

She smiled at Seamus, putting down her spoon. "I know," she sighed. "I guess I'm just feeling a little grumpy this morning."

He winked at her. "Not as grumpy as I am." Digging his schedule out of his pocket, he showed it to her. "Look- two hour seminar with Dumbledore next, and it's a double with the Slytherins."

Ginny fought the urge to whack Seamus with the abandoned spoon. Did everyone have an irrational hatred for that House?

Seamus continued, "I've heard Dumbledore seats his classes alphabetically, four to a table, and ugh, that'll stick me with Goyle for sure- he has the worst body odor I've ever smelled. I bet Hermione and I will pass out within ten minutes-"

"That's nothing!" Lavender interrupted, giggling. "I'm going to have to sit with Crabbe, and he's so huge he'll probably push me right off the bench!"

Ginny smiled at both of them, wondering if she had just become overly sensitive to anti-Slytherin commentary. Perhaps Ron, Harry and Hermione were alone in their strange paranoia? She knew students from other houses disliked some of the Slytherins, but that was usually for legitimate reasons, like the ones Lavender and Seamus had just mentioned. She relaxed, laughing as Seamus and Lavender reenacted funny stories from their years of double Potions with Snape and the Slytherins.

"Well, we'd best be off, Lav," Seamus said, rising from the table. "We're headed toward the fourth floor; is it on your way, Ginny?"

"Indeed- I've got Ancient Runes up on fifth this morning." She joined Seamus and Lavender on their way out of the Great Hall, parting ways on the landing to the fourth floor. She was about to mount the stairs to the fifth when she heard a cough from behind her.

"So you're not too good for Gryffindors today, huh, Ginny?" Harry asked coldly. Before she could respond, he had disappeared into his classroom, leaving her on the stairs to wonder if he would ever stop hating her.

***

Harry slouched low in his seat, wishing desperately that he could be anywhere but this class, with these students. He always dreaded classes with the Slytherins, but he wasn't really in the mood to see his fellow Gryffindors, either, particularly Ron and Hermione. He scowled. He certainly didn't relish the thought of telling them what had happened in the library yesterday.

Professor Dumbledore strode into the room, clearing his throat. The students' conversations wound down, and they all glanced at each other hesitantly. It was typical to have a course with Dumbledore during the sixth and seventh years, but none of them really knew what the class would be about- their schedules had just said "Seminar with the Headmaster."

"Good morning, class," he announced, smiling at Harry in particular. Harry returned the smile weakly.

"Good morning, Professor."

"I'm glad to see you're all here. However, you're in the wrong seats." He eyed the neat rows of five tables. "First, let's rearrange a bit, shall we? Up, all of you!"

Obediently, the students stood, watching the Headmaster curiously as he waved his wand. The tables and benches slid around, forming a hexagon with one side open. "There, excellent. Now, let's see about a seating chart. First table: Miss Brown, Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Crabbe, and Miss Davis."

Lavender made a face as she took her seat with the three Slytherins. "Careful, Miss Brown, it might freeze that way," Dumbledore said cheerily as he continued seating students. "Second table: Mr. Finnigan, Mr. Goyle, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, perfect; table three: Mr. Lewis, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson."

Neville shot Dumbledore a look of terror as he seated himself on the bench between Ashton and Draco, but Dumbledore just winked and continued. "Next- Miss Patil, Mr. Potter, Miss Roberts, Miss Tate." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Gryffindors, all of them.

"Finally, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Weasley, Mr. West, and Miss Zabini. Good." Dumbledore put away his list, smiling at the students and conjuring a stool into the open end of the hexagon. "Welcome," he announced, "to sixth-year seminar."

The students shifted restlessly in their seats, not certain what to say. "Uh, thank you, sir," said Dean Thomas finally, as it was clear Dumbledore was waiting for some kind of response.

"Excellent, Mr. Thomas, do speak up!" Dumbledore seemed pleased. "I'll be wanting to hear from all of you during this very important course, in which we will cover two major aspects of magical use: the practical and the theoretical. You have primarily focused on the practical during your last five years here at Hogwarts, but it's necessary to discuss magical theory and ethics as well."

Draco Malfoy raised his hand languidly.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Is it really the school's place to be teaching us ethics of magic, professor? Isn't that something for our parents to do?" He shared a smug glance with Ashton Lewis over the top of Neville Longbottom's head.

Dumbledore didn't seem discomfited by Draco's question. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, not every student can claim to be as lucky as you are, with two parents of wizarding background."

Aurinn Greengrass's hand shot up. "But since I do have a witch and a wizard for parents, why should I have to take the class? Why can't it just be for Muggle-borns?" She looked pointedly at Hermione, who was seated next to her.

Hands were suddenly waving all over the room, and angry words rapid-fired between tables. Again, Dumbledore cleared his throat, a small smile playing about his lips. "I'm pleased to see you all have such an active interest in discussion," he said over the din. "But the real importance of taking this class is so that you all learn relatively the same things, and we will not be discussing just ethics. There are also fundamental things you need to learn that other classes do not have time for- we will practice them here. First on the syllabus is magical integration. If you will open your texts-"

Dumbledore continued to speak, leading the class in a lively chat about the possibilities of integrating the different magical genres, but Harry had zoned everything out, pretending to listen while actually thinking about the girl he had met yesterday. Georgine. It had helped so much to talk to her, and she'd given him some excellent advice.

"Maybe I've been too hard on Ginny," Harry had said hesitantly, as he finished the story. "Maybe I shouldn't have said those things to her."

Georgine's big blue eyes radiated sympathy as she shook her head. "No, you did what was right, Harry." She placed a hand on his. "Sometimes, you just have to follow your gut instinct. Ginny doesn't deserve you- you were clearly too good to her."

Harry glowered at his textbook. Georgine was right; he had been too good to Ginny. And she deserved his hatred, deserved to have him revile her. How could she have lied to him like that, and for so long? He'd always been so kind to her, and her mother treated him like part of the family... her brother was his best friend...

"Harry," Parvati whispered from next to him, "you're going to break that."

He jumped, flushing. "Oh," he said lamely, realizing he had been clenching his hand far too tightly around the middle of his quill, crushing the feather. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded, giving him a queer look. "Absolutely, not a problem."

The class ended, and the Slytherins headed for Herbology while the Gryffindors made their way to the Charms classroom, a double with the sixth-year Ravenclaws. Harry didn't know many of them, just Parvati's twin, Padma, and Niall Howard and Linus Clearwater, who both played Quidditch, so he wasn't particularly excited about the class one way or another. His eyes lit in surprised pleasure, though, when he noted a head of wavy red hair near the front of the class. Georgine! So she was a Ravenclaw. Well, not as good as Gryffindor, but nice enough. He didn't want to seem conspicuous, so he decided he'd talk to her after class.

The lesson sped by; Professor Flitwick was always in a particularly good mood when teaching students from his own House. Harry waited while his fellow Gryffindors filed out into the corridor, then tapped Georgine on the shoulder.

"Harry!" she exclaimed when she turned around. "Hi, how are you? Feeling better than yesterday?"

Harry's eyes were wide, horrified. Georgine looked down, realizing he was staring at the Slytherin crest sewn to her robes. "Harry?" she prodded.

"You- you're a Slytherin?"

She nodded, mentally kicking herself. She'd never even considered how sensitive Harry must be to everything argent et vert- it would just make winning him over that much more of a challenge. A self-deprecating smile crept onto her face. "Yeah, my brother and I didn't know anything about the different Houses," she said cutely, "so we just picked the one that went best with our hair." She held a lock of hair next to her green and silver tie. "Not bad, hmm?"

"But, you can't just ask for a specific House," Harry protested. "It chooses you!"

Georgine faked confusion. "Oh, really? Maybe it works differently if you're older. It just asked me which one I liked best, and I pictured the Slytherin colors, and-" she shrugged. "And there I was."

Harry still looked wary, and Georgine gave him a petulant pout. "Come on, Harry, you aren't going to stop being my friend because of where I sleep at night, are you?" She leaned toward him, voice now betraying a hint of fear. "To be honest with you," she whispered, "I wish I hadn't made such a rash decision. Some of the Slytherins, they-" she paused, eyes darting to the sides.

"They what?" Harry demanded, instantly worried. Georgine seemed so sweet, almost naive, and to be placed in a House like Slytherin- she was like a cygnet in a nest of vipers.

Georgine shifted nervously from one loafered foot to another, staring at the floor. "They- well, it's just not what I expected, Harry! I mean, I listened to the Sorting Hat's song, and I heard the part about being ambitious, and I thought that was fine- there are so many things I want to do, so many people I'd like to help..." Her voice dropped even further, and Harry had to strain to hear her. "But it's not the kind of ambition I expected. They're all so cutthroat, Harry, and so mean to each other." She raised her eyes to his, and he saw the worry there.

He patted her arm awkwardly. "You should have been a Gryffindor, Georgine," he said sadly. "I wish there was something I could do for you, but once you've been Sorted, you can't change."

She nodded, looking as if she were about to cry. "I know," she said pitifully. "Harry?" she asked, voice tremulous.

"Yes?"

"What- what do you know about Draco Malfoy?"

Two bright pink spots appeared on Harry's cheeks. "More than I'd like to." His eyes narrowed. "Why, has he done anything to you?"

"N-no," she said querulously, "he just makes me uncomfortable, is all."

Harry frowned. "Well, if he does something to you, Georgine, let me know." A bitter smile. "He and I have hated each other since the moment we met." He hesitated, then continued. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's the reason Ginny broke up with me."

Georgine's eyes widened. So Ginny Weasley had an interest in Draco Malfoy, did she? Very interesting, that- and useful, too. She kept her expression neutral. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. To lose your girlfriend to your worst enemy- that's terrible."

Harry's brow furrowed, then he sighed. "But it's not your problem, Georgine, and I don't want to burden you further." He shrugged, gesturing toward the door. "Would you like to go to lunch?"

She smiled brightly, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow. "I'd love to." She was feeling smug- there were so many things she could put in a letter to Icarus, now.

They meandered down the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall, Georgine's arm still loosely linked with Harry's. In spite of himself, he wished it were Ginny with him instead of Georgine. He was furious with Ginny, and yet... until yesterday, everything with her had been so perfect. He felt a peculiar ache inside him: the struggle between despising Ginny for what she'd done, yet wanting so desperately to possess her; make her admit that she'd been wrong; make her say that she loved him. He wanted to hear her beg for his forgiveness, saying that she hated herself for even thinking about Draco Malfoy.

More than at any other time, Harry suddenly felt keenly the lack of parents in his life. This was the moment where one would owl a father, asking for advice, or pour heartaches out to a mother, just knowing that comforting words would be promptly returned in the next morning's post. But Harry didn't have anyone. Ron and Hermione had been preoccupied recently, Dumbledore was by no means a regular confidant, Sirius was struggling to make himself financially viable again, Hagrid wasn't the sort for these types of questions, and Ginny was now the source of his problems. And Georgine was still so new, and despite his worry for her, he didn't quite trust her; she was a Slytherin, albeit a seemingly unwitting and accidental one.

Abruptly, Harry disentangled his arm from Georgine's, desperately wanting to avoid the Great Hall and all the complications it represented, and to spend some time alone with his thoughts. "I- I forgot that I have something to do before my next class," he told her. "I'm sorry, I'll have to eat with you another time."

Georgine looked confused. "Alright," she said slowly. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"I'm fine," he snapped, pulling away from her. "See you later," he said briskly, leaving her in the middle of the corridor wondering exactly what had gone wrong, and how she could possibly remedy it.

Harry stalked down the hallway, making a sharp left outside Professor Flitwick's office. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going; all he knew was that he wanted to be away, removed from everything and everyone for a little while.

No such luck. Wafting down the corridor was the distinctly mellow, feminine voice of Blaise Zabini, followed rapidly by the overwhelming scent of her costly perfume. She was discussing Monday's homework with someone, but as Harry couldn't yet see where they were, he had no idea who her companion might be. He turned another corner, hoping he'd be able to avoid them.

"I thought Sprout told us three feet of essay, Blaise," replied Draco Malfoy. He stopped short, narrowly avoiding running smack into Harry. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in an unpleasant smile. "Well, Potter, you're certainly in a hurry." He grinned at Blaise. "Maybe he's practicing for Quidditch- he knows he'll have to be awfully fast if he wants to beat me to the Snitch."

Harry's eyes shot sparks. "You wish you were half the Seeker I am, Malfoy," he snapped, voice shaking with rage. "Seems you're after everything that belongs to me, lately."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Draco replied coolly. "Paranoia is so unbecoming, Potter. Really, what will your slutty little Weasley girlfriend think of you?"

Neither Blaise nor Draco even saw Harry move- one moment, he was standing two feet away from them, visibly trembling with anger; the next, he had Draco pinned against the stone wall, fists gripping the front of Draco's expensive black robes. Blaise screamed, shrinking away. "Take that back now, Malfoy," Harry hissed, eyes narrowed to slits.

To his credit, Draco didn't seem ruffled, though he'd received a fiercely painful knock to his head when it struck the stone. "I don't think I will," he said calmly, as his icy gray eyes flicked over Harry's flushed face. "I think I'll just leave you worried, hoping to yourself that I don't, ah... know Ginny better than you do." Draco's smirk increased, evolving into its very highest level of smug satisfaction.

Harry's face reddened further, and he released one fist from Draco's robe, pulling it back- "Potter!" Blaise shrieked, regaining her composure. Harry turned his angry scowl towards her, and Draco used the distraction to shove him away.

"I'll be recommending fifteen points from Gryffindor for attacking a prefect," Blaise said shakily, horrified by the flagrant rules-breaking. "And be thankful that I'm letting you off easily." She tugged Draco's arm. "Come, Draco, let's just go."

Draco's head throbbed, and he would have liked nothing better than to give Potter a reciprocal slam against the wall, but it was clear Blaise had seen enough, and he knew that she wasn't above taking points from her own House when pushed. A very odd type of Slytherin, Blaise. But then again, maybe she wasn't- she'd do anything, even ruin Slytherin's chances for the House Cup, if it meant increasing the likelihood that she would be Head Girl next year.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Blaise turned to him, green eyes wide with amazement. "What were you thinking, Draco?" She coughed delicately. "Never mind, it's rather apparent that you weren't. Provoking him when he was clearly already angry was just plain suicidal."

Draco shot her a sharp look, not in the mood to be lectured. "He deserved it," he muttered darkly.

"Maybe so," Blaise returned. "But the comment about his girlfriend was uncalled for. You know it's not true, and what would Ginny say?"

"I don't know," said a voice from in front of them. They'd been so engrossed in their conversation, they hadn't even seen anyone else in the corridor. "Why don't you ask me."

Blaise looked up, startled, to see Ginny Weasley standing just outside the door to a classroom. Her class had just gotten out, and it must have been a double; Blaise's sister, Bronwen, was standing next to Ginny, her expression one of amused curiosity. Blaise met her sister's gaze, and was surprised when Bronwen gave her a covert thumbs-up, then brought her fingers to her lips, indicating that it was a topic of absolute secrecy.

So Ginny had dumped Harry Potter, then. Well, that certainly explained his foul mood. And considering that one would have to be blind to miss the looks that Ginny and Draco often exchanged (a potent cocktail of cautious attraction and mutual amusement), it was also no wonder that Harry had taken his ire out on Draco. Blaise smiled, entertained by the unfolding drama. A girl like Ginny would be good for Draco- Pansy was the only girl he'd ever dated, and that had been an absolute disaster; Blaise wasn't at all shocked when Draco broke up with her during prefects' training. Trust a Malfoy to do something unpleasant in as dramatically public a way as possible.

Blaise gave Ginny a cool smile and was about to make a flip response when Bronwen suddenly took her arm, steering her away from Draco and Ginny. "Blaise, I wanted to talk to you about a birthday gift for Daddy," she said loudly.

Left alone, Ginny glanced at Draco uncomfortably. Could Bronwen possibly have been less subtle? Before she could speak, Draco did. "Had a bit of an altercation with your boyfriend," he commented dryly, rubbing the back of his head.

Ginny started to protest that Harry was no longer her boyfriend, then thought better of it. At the moment, it wasn't a subject she cared to discuss. Particularly with Draco. "What did you say to him?"

"So you automatically assume it was my fault, rather than the other way around?"

Ginny was tempted to tell Draco that almost all of Harry's issues with him tended to stem from things Draco had said, but she replied simply, "No, but I overheard Blaise; you said something to Harry about me, didn't you. What was it?"

Draco smiled sardonically. "You won't like it, so don't ask."

Ginny's eyes narrowed to slits. "Tell me, Malfoy."

"I suggested to Potter that he needn't worry about not being able to satisfy you in certain... ways," Draco lied smoothly, not the least bit ashamed of his words. "Told him I wouldn't mind if you came to me instead."

Ginny fought desperately to curb the rising blush, but she failed miserably, and her cheeks flamed a furious crimson. She'd forgotten to cast the freckle-reversing spell that morning, and the flush across her nose just made the infrequent speckles more pronounced. To Draco, her attractiveness was actually heightened by her trembling rage, but Ginny was certain she'd never looked more silly, which only increased her anger. "That's disgusting," she spat. A tiny part of her was bizarrely flattered, but mostly she felt vaguely sickened. So it was true. She had been reduced to a mere pawn in the never-ending game of one-upmanship between Harry and Draco.

Unapologetic, Draco nodded. "Isn't it?" he asked, still amused. He checked his watch. "I really must go, Weasley; I have class." A tiny smile twitched at the edges of his mouth as he inwardly chuckled at his own double-entendre. He gave her one last appreciative glance. "Oh, and, Ginny?"

"What?" she snapped, livid. And she'd convinced herself she possibly fancied this boy? Why?

"If you were my girlfriend, I'd have killed anyone who said that about you." He brushed past her, turned the corner and disappeared.

It took Ginny a moment to register what Draco had said. All the anger drained out of her, and her stomach flip-flopped. If you were my girlfriend... A shiver of delight trilled up her spine. Malfoy was a prat, really, and horridly insensitive and nasty to boot. But for all that, she did fancy him.

And if you were my boyfriend, Draco...

She wasn't certain exactly how she wanted to finish that sentence.

***

Slipping into an empty classroom, Draco leaned against a desk, berating himself. Obvious, that was way too obvious. Far too many people were aware of what was going on between him and Ginny: Potter, Blaise and Bronwen, Cho Chang, and probably that other Ravenclaw girl, too- Fiona, that was her name. And who knew exactly how much Weasley and Granger might have guessed...

He groaned. That would be just what he needed- Weasley stalking him in the corridors, calling for blood, when Draco hadn't even done anything. When Ginny did decide she wanted to date him, that would be different; Weasley could foam at the mouth all he wanted. Draco smirked at the mental image.

For now, though, things needed time to simmer, and Draco needed to figure out the Belletons. Which meant leaving Ginny alone for awhile and letting the gossip about the two of them die down. Ideally, he would replace the Ginny gossip with something even more juicy, though he couldn't come up with anything good at the moment.

He checked his watch again as he left the classroom. What he had told Ginny was somewhat true; he didn't have a class, but Professor Snape had asked him to come in this afternoon to help with some sort of project. Draco normally was not the sort to volunteer, but earning points for Slytherin was always a worthwhile venture. He was going to be a bit late, but wasn't particularly worried.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, so kind of you to deign to join us."

Draco squinted, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of Snape's classroom. Us? Who else- Draco's expression turned unpleasant when he saw the girl seated in the chair next to Snape's desk.

The professor emitted a bark of laughter. "I see you're as pleased as I am at the opportunity to work with Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione looked offended, but the professor continued as if she weren't there. "However, the two of you are regrettably the best students in the sixth year, and I have been commissioned to work on a special potion, ably assisted, I am sure, by you both."

"Couldn't you ask a seventh-year, Professor?" Draco asked petulantly. "Certainly Jillian Iwasaki-"

"-is busy preparing for her N.E.W.T.s," Snape finished smoothly.

"Oh." Draco's face betrayed the fact that he was less than pleased by the idea of spending his afternoons with a Gryffindor Muggle-born, particularly an insufferable one like Granger.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Could we please get started, Professor?" she asked cautiously. It was clear from her expression that she would rather be anywhere but alone in the dungeons with Snape and Malfoy.

Snape shot her a nasty look; he was no more a fan of Hermione's than Draco was. "Yes, by all means, Miss Granger," he said, his sarcasm coated with a thin veneer of civility. He set them to chopping ingredients, explaining that they needed to be fine and even so they'd simmer properly. The two students began their work, and Snape went into his office to grade papers.

Draco had been halving newt livers for several minutes when he noticed that Hermione kept sending sidelong glances his way. He slammed his knife down on the table, causing her to jump. "What is it, Granger?" he snarled. "Are you hoping to see me slice off my own finger?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe."

"Well, don't count on it." Draco resumed his chopping, moving from the newt livers to a heap of flowering pennyworth, but it wasn't long before he noticed that she was sneaking edgy glances at him again. He sighed. "Granger. What is your problem?"

Hermione placed her knife carefully down on the table, turning to face him. "I want to know what interest you have in Ginny Weasley, Malfoy." Her hands were clenched at her sides. "Because I'm telling you right now-"

"Finished already?" Snape's voice cut through Hermione's words.

Draco turned, giving his Head of House an ingratiating smile. "Almost, Professor." Snape nodded, ducking back into his office. As soon as the teacher had disappeared, Draco shot Hermione a glare thickly-laden with poison. "You're telling me what, Granger?"

Hermione instinctively shrank away, but she was in Gryffindor for a reason; bravely, she continued. "To leave Ginny alone, Malfoy. And Harry, too," she finished bitterly. She had seen the problems between the two of them this past week, and was certain it could all be traced back to Malfoy. Why else would Ginny snap at Harry, the boy she'd worshiped since she was ten? And to spend several hours in Slytherin common room on the very first night of classes- it was just so out of character for Ginny.

Draco wanted to demand who Hermione thought she was, to dictate who he could and could not see, but he thought better of it. He needed to prevent all of Gryffindor House from thinking he had a crush on Ginny Weasley, and lately, he hadn't been doing so well. "I wouldn't waste my time on either of them," Draco replied, gray eyes holding an amused irritability.

Hermione flushed angrily, but she didn't respond, instead turning to finish the last of her slicing. "Professor Snape, I've finished," she called in her best Head-Girl-in-training voice.

Again the professor appeared in the doorway, surveying their work. He nodded. "Fine, you may both go. Tuesday afternoon, four o'clock."

Hermione agreed, hurrying out of the classroom. Draco, however, with his quick Seeker's reflexes, easily caught up with her, roughly grabbing her elbow. "I have a few things I still want to say."

Hermione struggled, trying to pull away. "I don't care, Malfoy," she said, remarkably cool under pressure. "I don't feel like listening." She paused for a moment, certain she heard footsteps in the hallway behind her. Malfoy looked up, and an evil grin spread across his face.

"You're right, Hermione, and I don't feel like talking, anymore," he replied in a low growl, obnoxious-prat demeanor melting into something almost- seductive? She barely had a chance to register what was happening before Malfoy's mouth was abruptly attached to hers. The person behind her gasped, and Draco was shoved roughly away from her, causing her to stumble. The last thing Hermione remembered before her head cracked painfully against the floor was the sight of Ron's face, vividly scarlet with hurt and anger.