Wanted

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Malfoy gaped. Somehow, even with her bright, copper-colored hair and tall, lanky figure, Ginny Weasley managed to blend and disappear within the crowd, the hordes of chatty students, released from the last class of the day. She was like a glimpse in the corner of his eye, never sure if he actually saw her or not. She was fleeting and never still, like grains of sand falling through his fingers. Even if he tried, he could never catch all of them as they tumbled to the ground.

He sat down in the almost deserted school courtyard, drawing his robe tighter around him. A frigid gust made him shiver, daring him to leave and go seek shelter and warmth, instead of staying in the open courtyard. He sat his bag down beside him. Under him, the stone was freezing like ice. It was a chilly December afternoon, the sky bright with the sun overhead, but no warmth on the ground. Weather did not apply to logic.

"Sorry," he heard a voice mutter behind him. It was soft, but he could hear it above all the other loud voices. It was a whisper of an apology, almost breathed rather than said. He twisted his head behind him.

Ginny Weasley stood, looking down at a mess on the concrete floor. Her things were scattered around her at her feet. She was biting her lip and her cheeks were tinged a deep pink from embarrassment. A girl with blonde hair stood opposite from her, a look of scathing dislike on her face. Her arms were crossed in a look of untouchability. Deliberately stepping on Ginny's parchment, she ripped it into two and walked away to where her friends stood, laughing like hyenas. But not before she whispered into Ginny's ear, "Bitch".

Ginny still stood there, staring at the ground. Several students who walked past scoffed at her misfortune and laughed. He did not. None of them offered sympathy. None of them bent down to help her pick them up.

Her eyes had gone blank, apathetic and cold, threatening to roll back into her head. Her breathing picked up, desperate gulps of air that moved her shoulders back and forth. Her arms were rigid at her side, her hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists. In her mind, she replayed the scene over and over again, the sound of the first page of her Defense Against the Dark Arts term paper being stepped on and torn, over and over. She would have to start over and rewrite it on a new parchment, and the entire project was due tomorrow. Her lip began to tremble and the tips of her ears became ghostly white. Tears of frustration sprung up in her eyes. She felt like dropping to the floor and sobbing, but she remained still, remained standing.

"What a pathetic swot," one of the girls muttered, loud enough to be clearly perceptible to the others. They giggled maliciously and glared with murderous eyes at Ginny's back. Malfoy caught a glimpse of the badges on their chests. Ravenclaws.

Malfoy wasn't too keen on Ravenclaws. Their attitude annoyed him, always acting too busy to help a fellow student, even one of their own, but never too busy to show off. They flaunted their good grades, wishing wistfully, and loudly, that others could be like them, and picked on anyone who was not up to their standards.

"She's a retard. A mental case."

"No, look at her. She looks like she's being possessed."

"She was possessed. Probably talking to You-Know-Who right now."

"She's so strange. Doesn't belong here."

"Yeah, she belongs in St. Mungos for the Criminally Insane."

"She belongs in the loony bin, with the rest of the freaks like her."

"She's such a queer. What a freak."

Ginny was not dumb or deaf. She heard every word those girls said, every comment they made. She could feel the arrows stab her back with every look they sent in her direction, every sentence that floated up to her ear. She was their entertainment; she was their target.

Mental demons swarmed to her, not with multiple eyes or slobbering mouths but with blonde hair, blue eyes, and superior looks. They condemned her not because she was ugly, which she was not, not because she was stupid, which she was not, but because she was different from them, from any student at Hogwarts, save Harry and Neville. Because they did not know, and because they were afraid.

They tore apart her confidence, her self-respect, her reputation, shredding her work for their amusement. They labeled her with their stamp of disgust, their mark. They taunted her. They burned her with their actions, with their comments. They tortured her. They laughed at her, slapped her across the face with their stinging words, their fresh wounds slashing across old scars of past words. She flinched and recoiled. The girls laughed more, and harder. A deeper laugh, one that echoed inside of Ginny's head, joined in.

One of the girls caught sight of Malfoy and smiled coyly at him, expecting him to play along in their little game of Cat-and-Mouse, a game that he was particularly good at. He took a glance at Ginny, who stood alone and utterly still, and he felt sick.

Malfoy wondered where the Ginny that he had met in the Astronomy Tower had vanished to, because the one that stood in the hall was frightened and silent. She was not the outspoken, defiant, and mildly scary Weasley he had stumbled across in the Tower. The one here was like a statue with a look of utter fear, as if the Ravenclaws laughing behind her were not girls but large, carnivorous dogs.

And maybe in her mind, they were dogs, snarling at her and barking loudly in her ears. Maybe in her mind, they were surrounding her, encircling her, snapping in her direction. Maybe in her mind, the only thing that kept them from tearing her apart was a word from their leader, the head wolf.

He grabbed his bags and began to walk; sauntering around the stone bench to where Ginny stood.

A body fell into Ginny's line of vision and the girls' giggles ceased abruptly behind her. The laughing faded away and she blinked, her vision becoming clearer. A bent body was gathering her things in front of her. Someone was helping her pick up her things. He grabbed one half of the ripped parchment and rubbed it between his fingers. Had it been any thicker, it would have been salvageable, but had it been any thicker, she would have gone without a schoolbook, inkpot, or robe.

He stood up and shook the metallic white hair out of his eyes.

Malfoy.

"Here. I don't think that you'll be able to repair this with magic, it's pretty damaged no thanks to that wench over there." He jerked his head forward with a look of disgust over his handsome facial features. "You might be able to copy and transfer it to another parchment, I don't know if you've learned how to do that in Charms yet, we just mastered it in class last month." He paused, thinking. "I'll do it for you then," he decided firmly.

Ginny stole the things out of Malfoy's hand and held them close, crossing her arms over them and clutching them as if for life.

"Malfoy," she hissed. "What are you doing? You could be seen!"

He raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth upturned as if she amused him greatly. His expression responded "So?" Yet he remained silent.

"What are you doing out here?!" she asked.

"Picking up your things for you," he said breezily.

"I didn't need help," she said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, yes you did need help picking up your things, since you're obviously too occupied to pick them up yourself." When she remained silent, he continued. "Was it the voices in your head again?"

She blushed a deep red, then paled severely, to the extent it appeared her skin was a pale pink, like an albino. "Shut up about that, Malfoy," she whispered, her voice frantic and frightened.

"You shouldn't let what they're saying get to you." She glowered at him for a moment, her eyes blazing and cheeks red and splotchy, and then was calm.

"I forgive you, for you know not what you say," she said in an emotionless voice.

Malfoy fell silent, trying to figure out what she meant.

"Stop being nice!" she whispered angrily to him. He looked at her in surprise and amusement.

"Who says I'm being nice?" he asked her. When she didn't respond, he continued. "I was being courteous."

"It's 'nice' any way you word it, Malfoy, so face the music and piss into the wind. And I don't need your pity or your help." She looked at him in the eye one more time, then turned around. The girls who had made fun of her so cruelly stopped whispering and looked at her, a look of mirth and loathing on their faces.

Ginny forced herself to smile with feigned sweetness when scowling could have been so much easier, but less effective. "I forgive you guys and your small self-confidence for feeling that you have to pick on me to make yourselves feel a little bit taller than you are. I'm sorry you're like that."

She turned around and walked away, weaving around Draco. She did not look back at them. The only sound in the stone hall was the sound of her clicking heels against the floor.

The figure intensified, and the aura of darkness surrounded Ginny, making her cough. All joy, hope, and happiness, what little she had, was sucked from her in an audible breath. She felt cold and alone. She lost her bravado nerve that she had thought so fiercely with.

But she knew, deep inside her, that she did not have to hear him speak about her like he was. She knew that she did not have to tolerate it; no human should have to tolerate this. She knew that he was wrong; that he was mistaken. She knew that she was not worthless, and that she was not weak, or pathetic, or frail. She knew that she did not have to be heard or liked to get through life. She knew that success did not depend on popularity, that survival did not depend on friends or allies.

And she knew that as much as Tom was ashamed to have a muggle for a father, he was ten times more ashamed that he had none growing up.

Ginny paused to rest against a stone wall. She took a few breaths to steady herself and clear her mind, and tried to figure out where to go next. Her vision became a bit more lucid, and she looked around her surroundings.

Grabbing one of the handles of the Hogwarts Library's door, she opened it and snuck through silently. She took the long way around, walking behind shelves and tables as to not draw attention to herself. Her steps disappeared into the carpeted floor and her presence went unnoticed.

~*~*~*~

Draco, realizing that the small battle had been fought and won, turned around and followed her. He took a step forward, then paused, turning around slowly on his heels with a malevolent grin. The Ravenclaw girls stopped whispering and turned their attention to him. The pretty girl who had bumped into Ginny grabbed a small piece of her hair and began to twirl it in a flirty manner. She cocked her head as blonde hair fell around her small, sloping shoulders. He caught her hopeful sky-blue eye.

"Ten points from each of you," he said to the four, "For harassment and intimidation of a fellow student, and thirty from the blonde for deliberate destruction of a student's work. I will tell your Head of House about this atrocious, not to mention repulsive and embarrassing, Ravenclaw behavior and she can decide what to do with you."

He turned around and walked away, leaving the girls gaping. Words like "Softie" and "Bigot" floated to his ears, but he ignored them, not concentrating on what they said about him or what would happen. His mind was on Ginny. Was she OK? Where had she disappeared? His pace was a casual saunter, but his eyes were frantic, looking from side to side across the hallways for any sign of Ginny.

He passed the massive Hogwarts library, its oak doors closing shut. On an impulse, he grabbed the handles and swung it open. He strolled in and walked down the aisle between two long rows of shelves. Students' heads looked up to look at him as he walked by, some smiling at him, some admiring, most glaring. As he got to the end of one row, a hand reached out and swung him back.

"What the bloody-?" he asked before someone slapped him in the face. Caught off guard, his neck swung to the side with a loud crack. It felt very loose on his head.

"Could you do that again, except on the other cheek?" Malfoy asked in a cheeky manner. "It felt bloody good."

"Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you trying to do?" she hissed angrily. Her eyes were livid and sharp. "I was doing fine on my own, before your intervened!"

"That's funny. I usually don't define standing rigid in the hall with all your school things scattered around you feet, a piece of homework torn, and girls laughing and calling you names behind you as 'doing fine'."

"Ok, maybe I wasn't doing 'fine'. But I don't need a hero everytime I get into a tough spot."

She tore her eyes away from him and concentrated at a book on the shelf. Her red ponytail trailed over her shoulder. The soft light of the library hit her hair and it gleamed. It caught his eye and the planet Mars flashed before his eyes. The hues were the same.

"I wasn't being a 'hero', Weasley, so don't flatter yourself," he spat out disgusted. She looked up at him with much disdain. "I'm a pref-" he began loftily.

"So you're finally taking your duties seriously, is that it?" she interjected. Her voice was laced with the slightest hint of mockery and sarcasm. He shrugged with the grace of an angel.

"I have to do something every once in a while before Dumbledore gets suspicious," he said. Ginny felt the corners of her mouth itching upward into a reluctant smile.

"Well," she said, "You preformed valiantly. Dumbledore will never catch on, not with that performance of dauntless antics and selfless deeds. Kudos." There was no mistaking the sardonic sarcasm in her voice. It made Malfoy smile, how articulate she could be when she really was provoked. She looked up at him and he firmly crossed his arms with an amused, lazy smirk. She glared at him, angry that he did not pick up on her closing word.

"I believe you forgot the part where you mention about how bloody grateful you are to me, and how you will always be in my debt and therefore pledge me your life, love, and servitude for as long as you are well enough to breathe," he said arily. The way he spoke was almost teasing, almost flirtatious.

Ginny, however, looked at him wearily. "Feel free to leave. The exit's the entrance you came through," she said in an emotionless, almost, daresay, tired, voice. Giving him one last look, she turned around, and for the second time that day, walked away. She went back to a table, leaving Malfoy standing behind her.

He was rather speechless.

Draco had half the mind to just walk away. Obviously, she did not want his help, although she was in a bad need of it. He could make himself stop offering to assist her and prevent himself from making an already bigger fool out of himself.

But the other half of him was cemented to the ground. The other half of him was completely gobsmacked by the remarkable young woman that stood in front of him. He was awed, silenced, and humbled by her strong will and sharp tongue, pitied and plaintive by her daily trials, curious of what happened in his second year. Who was this Tom, that he haunt, torment, and torture her even as a Sixth year?

It was admiration and jealousy that kept his feet unmoving. It was a foreign emotion, the wanting to help, that kept him there, kept him patient.

He wanted to help Ginny. He wanted to know what kept her strong, what kept her going in such a world where she was ignored, spat on, and disregarded like she was. He wanted to know what it felt like to be manipulated, and used, and corrupted, and then live. He wanted to hear what she had to say. He wanted to defend her and protect her. He wanted to figure her out.