Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter 17: Blood Ink and Betrayals

***

Typical of the days preceding the Christmas holiday, the Gryffindor common room was decorated in a riot of bright, flashy colors; though Fred and George were no longer around to cause a complete ruckus, many of the younger Gryffindors were trying their hardest to live up to the twins' legacy.

Even the more serious students found the holiday cheer contagious. Ginny had given up on her homework hours ago, and was amused to note that though Hermione was still curled up with Making Mountains Out of Molehills: A Supplemental Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, she was also humming "Good King Wenceslas" under her breath.

Closing her Muggle Studies text with a firm snap, Ginny stood, wandering over to where her brother and Harry were playing a game of chess. Harry gave her a wary look- the two of them hadn't spoken since the day Draco found them arguing in the corridor- but Ginny just ignored him, squeezing herself into the other half of Ron's plushy armchair. Maybe it was simply the atmosphere of the approaching holidays, but it felt nice to be close to her brother.

"Hi, Gin," he said gruffly as he peered at the board, trying to find the best move.

"Are you winning?" she asked.

Ron shot a grin at Harry. "Of course I'm winning."

Normally, Harry would have responded with some kind of cheerful verbal spar. Instead, he sat silently, waiting for Ron to make his move.

Ginny had noticed, recently, that Harry hadn't been himself. He was spending time with Ron and Hermione again, at least, but their camaraderie didn't have the old spark that it used to. Ginny tried to push down the nagging feeling that the change in Harry had occurred right around the time she broke up with him. To distract herself, she turned to Hermione.

"How's the book?"

As if she'd been waiting for some kind of diversion, Hermione marked her page and closed her book. "Interesting," she replied. "But it's hard to concentrate in all this racket." Over in the corner, an industrious group of third-years was trying to charm a branch of mistletoe into saying "Kiss me, Kate!" Crushes on the Quidditch Captain were common, and one of the third-year boys had fallen particularly hard. To her credit, Katie, who was seated only a few couches away, seemed to be ignoring the noise in favor of her Divination homework.

"Oh, well," Hermione continued. "It's nearly the holiday anyway. I suppose the studying can wait."

Ginny touched the back of her hand to Hermione's forehead. "Are you certain you're feeling alright?" she teased.

Hermione lightly batted the hand away. "I'm fine," she said with a tired smile. "But doing the extra Potions work this term has been exhausting. When I'm not spending afternoons chopping ingredients with Malfoy, I'm-" Abruptly, Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"Working with Snape and my brother on the dragon pox cure," Ginny supplied. "I know, Hermione, it wasn't too difficult to figure out."

The corners of Hermione's eyes crinkled into a smile. "I suppose so. Sometimes I forget I'm not the only Gryffindor who can add two and two together to make four," she joked, glancing affectionately at Harry and Ron. Ginny stifled a snigger.

"It's stressful, though," Hermione said, her smile fading. "Snape still doesn't trust me after what happened last year, and Charlie tries to protect me from the brunt of Snape's comments, but he doesn't always come if he's not feeling well-"

Ginny nodded sympathetically. Hermione must really be frustrated if she was choosing Ginny as a confidante; Ginny knew Ron or Harry were her listeners of choice. "He still refuses to believe you didn't steal those ingredients?" she asked, referring to last year's incident. Hermione had been working on a special Potions project then, too, when several of Snape's rarest, most valuable powders had disappeared. He refused to believe the culprit could be anyone other than Hermione, and as such, he treated her even worse than he had before.

"Still," Hermione affirmed. "I'm sure the only reason he's working with me on this is because the Headmaster made him." She sighed. "It's so hard, Ginny. I really want to work for the Department of Magical Elixirs and Infusions after Hogwarts, but I just don't see how I'll ever be able to score well on my Potions N.E.W.T. with Snape as my professor...."

"He doesn't score your results, Hermione," Ginny reminded the older girl. "That's something, at least. I'm sure you'll be fine." Not sure what else to say, Ginny changed the subject. "So," she began cheerfully, "this isn't an appropriate topic for such a lovely time of year. What are your holiday plans?"

Hermione looked at Ginny oddly. "Didn't Ron tell you? Your mum invited me and Harry to the Burrow for Christmas this year."

"Really?" Ginny asked brightly, hoping she didn't sound utterly insincere. "How nice. Charlie's having Cho visit as well. I guess it will be quite the houseful." On the inside, Ginny was panicking. An entire holiday with Harry trying to corner her and proclaim his undying love? On top of the fact that she probably wasn't going to be allowed to visit Malfoy Manor for the New Year's Eve party? It would be, she was certain, the worst Christmas ever. She had been hoping to have a nice quiet holiday, maybe find the time to pester her father about the Belletons, but it looked as if it was it was going to be a typical Weasley Christmas.

"I'm looking forward to it," Hermione replied. "Though I'll probably have to spend most of my time on the Head Girl questionnaire."

"The what?" Ginny asked blankly.

"Something you'll never need to worry about, Gin," Ron interjected, briefly distracted from his game. "They give it to all the prefects that are potential Head Girl and Boy candidates." He smiled smugly. "I got one, too."

"You're a shoo-in, Hermione," Ginny said, though she secretly felt Blaise Zabini would make a better Head Girl. "Your initials are 'H.G.,' after all. You were practically born for it."

Hermione didn't seem convinced, but Ron smiled happily at his sister. He had always hoped Ginny and Hermione would become good friends. Rolling her eyes, because her brother's thoughts were practically written on his face, Ginny rose from her chair. "Well, have a nice evening," she said breezily. "I'm off for a bit of time in the library."

"You, Ginny? Three days before Christmas and you're going to study?"

Ginny squirmed. She knew it was atypical of her, but she really did need to study; Professor McGonagall would be taking her to London to register her Animagus form immediately following the holdiay, and Ginny still hadn't been able to manage the snake's small size. But she couldn't exactly share that information with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.... "Er-"

"You're not meeting Malfoy, are you?" Ron demanded. Hermione shot her boyfriend a nasty look for bringing up the Draco topic in front of Harry, but Ron was utterly oblivious to it.

Ginny tried to fight the urge for sarcasm and lost spectacularly. "I'm dating him, Ron," she said very slowly, as if she were speaking to a particularly dim child. "We do strange things like meet in the library." She leaned forward as if she were going to tell him a secret. "Sometimes, I even talk to him."

"I hope it's only talking," Ron muttered, looking disgusted. Harry was frozen in rigid silence, staring at the chessboard, but it was clear he was taking in every word.

"Wouldn't you love to know?" Ginny replied airily, suddenly wishing she really was meeting Draco. It had been nice to spend a little bit of time with her brother and Hermione, but she could only bear them in very small doses. She missed the way Ron used to be before Hogwarts.

"No, actually, I wouldn't," Ron groused, directing a bishop to smash his staff into one of Harry's knights. If Harry noticed he'd lost one of his key pieces, he certainly didn't react at all.

Ginny closed her eyes briefly, trying to keep her temper. "Ron, this is the last time you and I are discussing this. Draco is my boyfriend." She reached over and turned her brother's face so that he had to look at her. "He. Is. My. Boyfriend. You don't have to like that fact-"

"Good, because I never will," Ron interrupted. Ginny glared, and he closed his mouth again.

"But I do ask that you respect my choice. No harsh words, and no snide comments. Nothing makes me want to spend less time with you and even more time with him quite as much as the nasty things you say. Alright?"

Ron raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his little sister's speech. He started to say something, then thought better of it. The anger in his eyes faltered, and he suddenly just looked sad. "He's using you, Gin. He just wants to hurt you."

Ginny shook her head. "Then let me make my own mistakes." Her happy holiday mood having utterly vanished, Ginny turned on her heel and left the common room.

***

As soon as Ginny was gone, Hermione delivered a sharp elbow to Ron's ribcage. "Ow!" he yelped. "What was that for?"

"I knew you were oblivious, Ron Weasley, but that was particularly thick," she snapped. "Didn't you hear a word Ginny said? I agree that none of us likes seeing her with Malfoy. But you're practically driving her to him!" She cast her gaze toward Harry, who was still staring determinedly at the chess game. "Not to mention-"

"You don't need to try and discuss me like I'm not here, Hermione," Harry said quietly. It sounded like a rebuke, but he seemed more resigned than upset. "Ginny made her choice." He stood. "I'm going to bed," he continued hollowly. "Discuss me to your heart's content."

Ron stared after his best mate, a strange sadness in his eyes. "I never dreamt it would turn out like this," he said, almost as if to himself.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked sharply.

Ron shook his head. "Nothing, never mind. I just wish I- no, forget it. It's not important. I'll go talk to her." Sweeping the chess pieces into a bag and ignoring Hermione's further questioning, he followed his sister out the portrait hole.

Ginny wasn't hard to find. Her bright hair stood out like a beacon in the dark library, and contrary to what she had told Ron about meeting Malfoy, she was alone, reading a book.

"Ginny."

His sister looked up, her expression instantly wary. "Ron, I hope you didn't follow me to the library just to continue some sort of anti-Draco lecture." She tilted her head, noting the contrite expression on his face. "On the other hand, if you're here to apologize and not to act like Mum, then you're welcome to sit down."

Giving Ginny a wan smile, Ron sat down in the plump chair across from her. "Gin," he began hesitantly, "can I just- can I ask you why? Why Malfoy, of all people?" He braced himself for an angry retort, but to his surprise, Ginny just looked wryly amused.

"I wish I could tell you, Ron," she said softly, "but to be quite honest, I have no idea."

Ron frowned. "So, it's not just to irritate me?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That's quaintly arrogant, don't you think? Though I confess it's been a bit of a side benefit," she teased. Her expression sobered. "But no, I assure you there's more to it than that."

"What?" Ron asked bluntly.

Ginny sighed. "I don't know, there's just something." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Could you please give me a bulleted list of all the things you like about Hermione?"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Ron said defensively, holding his hands palms-out in a gesture of surrender. "But, Gin?"

"Yes?"

"Why not Harry? What was wrong with Harry?"

Ginny struggled to keep her temper. Ron was trying, after all. "It was the crush of a ten-year-old girl, Ron. Things like that aren't meant to last."

Pained guilt flickered across Ron's face, and he didn't say anything for a moment. "Fine, Gin," he said at last. A sudden, panicked look. "You don't love Malfoy, do you?" He looked as though he would be sick at the very idea.

"Ron," Ginny warned. "There are limits to my patience. You stay out of it, and I'll try not to flaunt my relationship with him. Agreed?"

Ron grumbled for a moment under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'As long as you don't expect me to like him.'"

Ginny laughed. "Oh, no, Ron, not at all. Even I know better than to expect the impossible."

***

Looking up from her parchment, Georgine glared at the Weasley siblings, who were laughing and talking animatedly. When Ron had first entered the library, his posture had been one of sheepish chagrin, but he'd apparently gotten over it, because he was now telling a rather raucous Quidditch locker-room joke to his sister.

"Quels cons," she muttered to herself as she put the finishing touches on her letter to Icarus. Harry had shared an absolute wealth of information with her the other night in the Astronomy Tower, so the letter was quite long. She re-read it quickly, marveling again at the fact that Ginny Weasley had been one of Voldemort's pawns. Georgine added one last line about the Chamber of Secrets, and its location, then folded the letter and slipped it into a lavender envelope. Sealing it with plain wax and a nondescript seal, she addressed it carefully with the special ink her father had given her before she left for Hogwarts.

"This ink is very precious, Georgine," he'd told her. "Use it only for writing information that needs to be kept secret. Your brother has a phial as well."

When she'd found some time to be alone, Georgine had opened the crystalline bottle, examining the scarlet-black ink inside. It had a sickening, metallic tang to its scent, and she had quickly closed the bottle again. She knew instantly what it was, and it made her feel vaguely ill, as if she were somehow tainted. It was Blood Ink, made of the lifeblood of another human being, likely one of Voldemort's many victims.

Precious, indeed.

During the term, Georgine had exhausted her own flask of ink; she'd broken into the boys' dormitory one afternoon and nicked Frédéric's. Her brother wasn't writing to their father anyway, so she was sure he wouldn't miss it. Georgine had filled page after page with information and sent it off to Icarus, but the new information from Harry was by far the most promising. She wasn't sure just how Icarus would use it, but she knew it would prove helpful. It was only a matter of time.

Tossing one last backward glare at the Weasleys, Georgine smiled grimly and left the library.

***

Her kindly feelings toward her brother renewed after their entertaining chat in the library the nit before, Ginny decided to sit with Ron, Harry, and Hermione at breakfast the next morning. The three of them were arguing animatedly about something when she arrived, late as usual, but Harry focused his attention on his bacon as soon as Ginny appeared.

"You missed your mail, Gin," Ron said around a bite of toast, pushing a small pile of papers toward her. "Your issue of Aurors' Monthly came, plus a note from the Slytherin prat."

Flipping through the Auror magazine, Ginny said idly, "Millicent Bulstrode again? I told her I wasn't interested."

"Ha, ha," Ron replied. "I meant Malfoy."

"He was going to read it!" Hermione blurted.

Ginny looked up from the feature article on Hestia Jones's newest spell innovations: "How to Hex and Hinder Without Really Trying." Ron wanted to read Draco's note? Well, that certainly explained what he, Harry, and Hermione were arguing about when she came to breakfast. "Oh, honestly, Ron," she said exasperatedly. "Even after the talk we had last night?"

Ron's ears turned pink, and he looked down at his eggs, pushing them around his plate with his fork. "I just wanted to be sure he treats you well."

Ginny started to make a flippant response, but then she stopped herself, trying to put herself in Ron's shoes. How would I feel if Ron were dating someone I absolutely despise and mistrust? A sudden mental image of Ron gazing adoringly at Tom Riddle over a candlelit dinner caused a giggle to escape Ginny's lips; Ron shot her an incredulous look.

"I'm glad you find it amusing," he muttered.

"I don't," Ginny said hastily. "Never mind. Ron, as far as Draco is concerned, please don't worry. Please?"

"I thought you didn't expect the impossible," her brother grumbled.

Ginny laughed. "Fine. Worry all you want. But keep it to yourself, and don't read my mail." Unfolding Draco's note, Ginny smiled at the messiness of his familiar scrawl.

Ginny:

I have urgent news. Meet me this evening at Moaning Myrtle's. Nine o'clock.

-Draco

Ginny frowned. A girls' bathroom? Why on earth would Draco want to meet in a girls' bathroom, particularly such an unpleasant one, one that held such bad memories for Ginny? The place where she and Draco, as well as Ron, had been so recently attacked?

Unless....

Unless he's heard important news from his father. Draco and Lucius both knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was; perhaps the choice of meeting location was significant. Ginny shivered as a cold finger of fear traced its way down her spine. Draco had said earlier that he didn't expect to have a chance to see her again before the New Year, yet now he had news that was important enough to risk meeting in such a dangerous place?

"Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

Stuffing Draco's note into her bag, Ginny plastered on a smile. "I'm fine, Hermione, but thank you for asking," Ginny forced out. "I'll see you later; right now I've got to leave."

Leaving the Great Hall, it was all Ginny could do not to run over to the Slytherin table and get the information from Draco immediately. But if it was urgent, and so secret that he wanted to meet in a place as strange as Moaning Myrtle's- well, she'd just have to wait until tonight.

It was going to be an excruciatingly long day.

***

At the Slytherin table, Georgine Belleton was also opening her mail. Most of it was rather prosaic: a shoe catalogue, a final letter of instructions from her mother on re-entering France for the holiday, and a bubbly note from Eliane full of gossipy updates on what was going on at Beauxbatons. Slipped in with this, though, was a scrap of cheap white parchment, stained with a brown-black ink. Georgine's heart started to pound- she recognized it immediately as Blood Ink. It was the only kind that could cling to such a flimsy paper without splotching. Not wanting to be caught in the Great Hall with such a contraband item, Georgine put the missive in her uniform pocket for later reading.

A burst of laughter from nearby caused her to look up; Frédéric was, once again, telling a tall tale to a cluster of Slytherin thrid-years. Damian Godswift was supplying additional information as needed.

"- and so the moment of crowning glory was when, not only had her potion exploded all over her, but she was also hiccoughing out Horned Slugs from the honey!" Eff looked positively triumphant.

Damian grinned. "I should be bothered that you're doing all this to my sister, Belleton, but Laurana really does deserve it."

One of the third-years waved his hand in the air. "Eff?" he asked. Georgine cringed to hear her twin's special nickname mangled by an English accent. "Where did you get the honey?"

Frédéric inclined his head at Damian. "From Godswift."

The third-years all turned awed eyes on Damian, who quickly shook his head. "I got it from Ginny Weasley."

"Ginny Weasley?" one of them blurted. "The Gryffindor Mudblood-lover?"

Georgine waited to see how her twin would react. She and Frédéric were far too well bred to even consider using the term "Mudblood;" they wouldn't even use its French equivalent, and it bothered both of them that the Slytherins said it so often. When you were pureblood, and therefore better than everyone else, you just knew it. There was no need for common, petty insults.

"Mudblood-lover?" Frédéric asked coldly. The thirteen-year-old winced as Frédéric's icy stare bore down on him. "If you want to insult someone, do it properly." He glanced up at that moment, and his eyes met his sister's. She gave him a small smile, and he returned it.

It wasn't much, but it was something. Pushing away nervous thoughts about the Blood Ink message in her pocket, Georgine scooped up her books and headed to class.

***

Cho checked her watch, eyes glazing over in disbelief as she registered the fact that it was a quarter after nine. Where had the day gone? Recently, it seemed as if each day slipped by more quickly than the last. There wasn't too much more to do tonight, though- just gradfew more papers for Charlie, write a Charms essay, compile lists of duty times for holiday prefects, spend at least one hour studying for N.E.W.T.s, and-

Eeeeeroooon, eeeeeroon! blared a loud, screeching claxon set atop her bookcase. Cho's entire room reverberated with the noise, shaking a few books free of their positions and causing them to crash to the floor.

Cho jumped, her heart hammering- the Danger Alarm! All thoughts of studying disappearing immediately from her mind, she leapt out of her chair, jamming her feet into her loafers. In moments, she was sprinting down the hall, dodging confused first-years.

She checked her Head Girl bracelet; a tiny message said "Girls' Toilets, first floor."

Moaning Myrtle's? It can't be another attack...?

Taking a corner a bit too sharply, Cho nearly collided with Professor McGonagall, who was, oddly, dragging Georgine Belleton in tow. "Professor!" Cho exclaimed. "Is it another attack?"

McGonagall's already narrow mouth was compressed into a barely visible line. "Not quite, Miss Chang. Miss Belleton will tell you everything shortly. Meanwhile, we need to hurry."

The three of them continued down the corridor, encountering Head Boy Jaron Stebbins halfway along. "Professor," he panted as he jogged alongside them, "what's the problem?"

McGonagall just shook her head, shooting a glare at Georgine. "We'll discuss it shortly."

After what seemed like forever, they finally arrived outside the bathroom door. "Wands out," Professor McGonagall said to the Head Boy and Girl. "You," she said coldly to Georgine, "can wait outside."

"Humph," Georgine sniffed, leaning against the wall. Cho noticed that she was clutching a piece of thin paper, and she felt an odd chill. What was happening?

"I'll go in first," Professor McGonagall said, gently pushing the door open and peering inside. "Miss Weasley?" she called. "Are you in here?"

Ginny, who had been facing the sinks, shrieked and spun around. Instantly, her face registered concern and worry. "Professor McGonagall?" she asked. "I- I don't understand. How did you know I was here?"

"Never mind that," McGonagall said. She turned to Cho and Jaron. "Would the two of you stay here and inspect the premises? I'll take Miss Weasley and Miss Belleton to the Headmaster's Office."

Ginny's eyes widened, and her heart started to pound nervously. The Headmaster? She knew she wasn't supposed to be out of her common room this late in the evening, but she didn't think it was an infraction that merited a meeting with Professor Dumbledore.

Then again, she also couldn't figure out how the Deputy Headmistress, the Head Girl, and the Head Boy had all known she was here.

She wasn't surprised, somehow, that it had to do with Georgine Belleton.

"Now, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said sternly. Nodding mutely, Ginny followed her out of the bathroom.

Five minutes later, Ginny, McGonagall, and Georgine were seated in front of the Headmaster, the two girls shooting covert glares at one another.

"Miss Belleton, please tell me what you told Professor McGonagall," said Professor Dumbledore.

Georgine took a deep breath and began to speak. "I heard a rumor tonight that she-" here she pointed at Ginny, "-was going to meet someone in Moaning Myrtle's toilets tonight." Georgine looked down at her hands, and Ginny noted she was twisting what seemed to be a blank piece of parchment. "Har- a friend of mine told me about what she did four years ago, and how the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in Moaning Myrtle's toilets. And I know that people have been attacked there, and-"

"And you thought it was me?!" Ginny gasped, horrified. "I don't even know how you know about what happened before," she continued angrily, "but what makes you think you have the right-"

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said gently. "Let's allow Miss Belleton to finish, and then you may have your turn to speak."

Georgine gazed at the professor with awe in her eyes; Ginny snorted and looked away. "So, I just reported my concerns to Professor McGonagall," Georgine concluded primly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Miss Weasley, why were you in Moaning Myrtle's toilets so late in the evening? I know that normally you can hardly be torn from your studies," he said, eyes twinkling merrily. Ginny felt a rush of relief- Dumbledore wouldn't tease her if he thought she was culpable.

"I was meeting my boyfriend," she said, chagrin causing her to stare at the tops of her shoes. "I'm sorry, Professor." She looked up. "But that's all, I swear-"

Dumbledore nodded again. "I believe you, Miss Weasley," he said firmly. "Who was your lucky young gentleman?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny said miserably. An icy ball had been forming in her stomach as she listlessly answered the Headmaster's questions....

Draco had sent her a note, asking her to meet him at nine o'clock. A note that had been sealed when she received it, and was without a doubt Draco's own handwriting.

He still hadn't arrived to meet her by nine-fifteen. Odd behavior for the poster boy of punctuality, but Ginny had just assumed he'd been waylaid by a fellow Slytherin.

Draco was the only person in the school who'd originally known where she'd be at nine. And Georgine had heard a "rumor?" There was really only one person from whom that rumor could have come.

"Professor, I really don't feel so well. Would it be alright for me to go?" Surely if they believed she was innocent, there was no longer any reason to detain her?

"Certainly, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore replied, pity audible in his voice. "You've had quite a few shocks this evening."

Ginny left the Headmaster's office in a daze, not even noticing the look of smug triumph on Georgine's face. Ginny's stomach was roiling, and her knees felt weak.

I will not be sick in the corridor, I will not be sick in the corridor, she told herself over and over again. Particularly considering which girls' bathroom was the nearest.

Ginny had only felt this betrayed once before in her life- when she had foolishly poured out the deepest secrets of her young heart to Tom Riddle. But this was worse. She'd cared for Tom, certainly, but it was nothing compared to what she'd started to feel for Draco.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered, leaning against a wall for support. Bracing herself against the cool stones helped, and slowly, her sick feeling was replaced by a rich, thick, bitter anger. In a series of quick flashes, she relived every moment she'd had with Draco, and now they were all twisted and ugly. She'd been played, and played so well that she'd even dumped Harry and fought with Ron, just so she could have Draco. Who had only wanted her so he could make a fool of her.

Tom, at least, had had a reason. In betraying Ginny, he'd had the chance to live again. But Draco- it had been a cruel joke, and naught else.

"Not true, Godswift," said a loud, all-too-familiar arrogant voice. "If you take a left up there, you'll see that we're right next to the stairs that lead to the dungeons. This way is much faster."

Still allowing the wall to support her, Ginny took a deep, ragged breath, and wiped away any signs of tears. She would not let that rat-bastard- no, ferret-bastard, she correctly herself with an acidic smile- gloat over what he'd done to her. She'd get him first.

Damian and Draco spotted her as soon as they rounded the corner. Draco's face broke into its usual smirk, and Ginny was pleased to note it had no effect on her. She was too livid.

"Weasley," he drawled, "what are you doing by yourself in the corridor so late in the evening?"

"Waiting for you," Ginny said simply, keeping her expression carefully neutral.

Draco's smile increased. "Well, Godswift and I are technically on rounds, but I think an exception could be made in your case. Damian, would you mind?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Ginny knew she had to act fast- it would be far better to humiliate Malfoy in front of a fellow Slytherin, especially someone he seemed to like and respect. If he actually respects anyone or anything, she thought bitterly. "Malfoy," she said softly, trying to use the sultry tone he liked so much, though she was trembling with emotion.

"Yes?" Draco asked, desire dancing in his eyes. He started to raise his hand, probably to cup her cheek, but Ginny was faster than that. Her hand flew up to his face, and the crack of her slap was so loud that it actually echoed; Damian, who had started to walk away, turned and stared at Ginny and Draco incredulously. His mouth formed a little "o," but he didn't say anything.

"Don't you ever, ever, come near me again, Malfoy," Ginny hissed, backing slowly away from him. Her hand was now clenched around her wand. "If you do, I assure you that I am capable of making you sorry. Very sorry."

There was no response. Draco just stood stock-still in the middle of the corridor, his left hand pressed to the bright red handprint on his cheek; it stood out against his skin like blood on fresh snow.

Ginny took one more deep breath. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said to Damian. "Good night." Spinning on her heel, she disappeared down the dark hall.

Damian waited for Draco to speak, but when the older boy didn't, he ventured a quiet query. "What was all that about?"

Draco turned to face him, and Damian noticed that Draco's eyes were blazing with a furious anger. "I don't know," he said, and his voice was quiet and icy cold, a sharp contrast to the fire in his eyes. "But when I find out who's responsible, by the time I'm finished they'll be begging for the mercy of a Killing Curse."

***