Quaffles and Quarrels

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Chapter Two

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Ginny was - quite rudely, in her opinion - woken from her sleep by a pair of arms that seized her into a ferocious hug - so ferocious that there was a resounding crack from her shoulder. Though Ginny had taken a heavy dose of pain-relief potion, the pain was unbearable, and Ginny screamed into the bush that was obscuring her face.

Her long, piercing shriek drew enough people into her bedroom to form multiple Quidditch teams. Bright light flooded her room, blinding her eyes, and making her scream even louder.

"Her shoulder!" someone cried over the flurry of activity. "Her shoulder's broken!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the voice, whose owner had caused Ginny to awaken in the most disturbing manner possible. The voice muttered a string of spells, and the pain in Ginny's shoulder disappeared with the crunch of fusing bone. "Ginny!" the voice continued, wrapping her into another fierce hug, and nearly suffocating her with the brown bush that was shoved in her face.

"Hermione."

"We were so worried about you! We heard that Malfoy was alive and stalking you!"

"Is that why a battalion of Aurors and reporters - reporters!" Ginny pulled the covers over her head in alarm. "Hermione! I'm a famous Quidditch star! I can't be seen in this state, wearing pink pajamas that clash so horribly with my frizzy, frizzy hair!"

"Ginny," said Hermione exasperatedly, "Malfoy is in your house! Sleeping on your couch! Why is he there?"

"Because I wouldn't let him have my bed?"

"Ginny! Are you saying that you let him in your house? And you didn't report him to the Aurors?"

"I thought I would do that at a slightly less ungodly hour. You know, a time when it isn't bloody four in the morning?"

"Ginny!" yelled another voice, too familiar and too concerned for Ginny's good.

"Oh, Merlin! Not her!"

"Oh, my baby! Did he hurt you, Ginny? Did he do anything to you?" Ginny found herself in another bone-crunching hug as Molly Weasley began to sob into her daughter's aching shoulder.

"I'm fine, Mum. He destroyed my basket of blueberry scones, but I think I'll live."

"Destroyed? Oh, sweet mother of Merlin, Draco Malfoy is exhibiting violence in my daughter's home!" Molly wailed.

"Mrs. Weasley," came the calm voice of Oliver, "I would have to kindly ask you to stop aggravating my Chaser's injured shoulder."

"What? Oh, of course! How silly of me!" Molly released Ginny from the queen of all hugs, gazed down at her, and beamed. "I saw that broadcasted on the Tele-wiz. My little girl, all grown up and doing heroic deeds!" Suddenly, she was scowling and being menacing, with a hand on her hip. "And I'd like to remind you, young lady, to never, ever do that again! Saving your teammates is not worth giving your dear mum a heart attack!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, I'll make sure she never does that again," Oliver said consolingly, and ushered the Weasley matriarch out of Ginny's room. Ginny could have kissed him. He then turned to the Aurors, who were busily searching for incriminating evidence, and the reporters, who were either taking notes or pictures, and said loudly, "If your presence in my Chaser's bedroom at four in the morning delays her recovery, and thus reduces Puddlemere's chances of regaining one of their best Chasers, I will gladly introduce you to the Puddlemere lawyer."

No one paid him much attention, except Hermione, who was menacing when she was being professional. "Mr. Wood, if your presence in what could very well be a crime scene hampers our search for incriminating evidence against Draco Malfoy, I will gladly bring you to the Ministry to be questioned about your true motives."

"What are you implying?" Oliver was asking, but at that moment, the door burst open and Lavender Brown came tumbling in.

"Oh, good!" she squealed. "You're all here! I heard from Ian - he's my new boyfriend, by the way, my last one had such unrefined kissing techniques - that Draco Malfoy was back from the dead and playing for his team! What a sensational story this will make! So, Oliver Wood, is it true that Malfoy made the team by threatening to murder your family members if you didn't let him join?"

"No. Listen, Lavender -"

"Hermione! Is it true that Harry didn't kill Malfoy because Andromeda Tonks requested Remus Lupin to request Harry that he be allowed to live? And is it true that they faked his death so the reporters and Aurors wouldn't go harassing him? And is it true that Harry only let him live under the condition that he be kept in the dungeon of a castle in the mountains of Romania that was guarded by dragons?" Lavender said all this very quickly.

"Er, Lavender -"

"Ginny! Is it true that Malfoy spent the last seven years fighting the dragons so that he could come see you again, because you were his secret true love?"

"What?"

"Answers! I need answers!" Lavender cried, waving her notepad frantically.

"I think," said a new voice, "that the answers need to come from me."

Lavender looked like she was going to asphyxiate from overwhelming joy. "Harry! Are you granting me permission to do an exclusive interview with you?"

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Growing up with Molly Weasley for a mother meant that it went against every one of Ginny's beliefs to let any visitor - even if they were unwelcome - leave without drinking a cup of tea first. As a result, Ginny found herself standing in her kitchen at four-fifteen in the morning, stirring several cups of chamomile tea, for no one other than the greatest nuisances of her life.

Lavender Brown was the Daily Prophet's second-best reporter, coming right after Rita Skeeter herself. She had insurmountable amounts of talent in snooping, wheedling out information, and elaborating. In other words, she was a complete pest.

Hermione Potter, nee Granger, was a paranoid Auror who saw criminal tendencies in everyone except herself and her Auror-partner husband. After seeing too many Order members turn traitor during the war, she began accusing everyone of everything. Ginny herself was once accused of wanting to bludgeon Joscelind Wadcock to death with a broomstick. "You're jealous, and you know it!" Hermione had declared. Hermione was also, unsurprisingly, the super-sleuth of Great Britain, and had not once come across a case that she could not solve. The only thing that Hermione couldn't comprehend was why Ron Weasley was jealous of Harry, when he was the one who had broken up with her, saying she spent far too much time reviewing crime scene photos with Harry in the small, dark, photo-developing room, which was reminiscent of Hogwarts' many broom closets, only with deep red, almost romantic lighting.

Harry Potter had once been the Prince Charming of Ginny's life. But Ginny had been protected during the war, while Harry had been at the pinnacle of it. After it was all over, Ginny found that she was too different from the Savior of the wizarding world. And, she secretly thought, not very worthy of him. It had hurt at first, but now she was perfectly happy with just being friends. The only problem was that he was bloody annoying. He was never satisfied with just the Ministry-assigned cases, and went about solving crimes on his own, with Hermione. He had once called an emergency lockdown of Puddlemere Stadium during the middle of a match against Ireland, because he was positive that someone in the audience was trying to murder Ginny with a blunt axe. Of course, what had really transpired was that a young boy had been sketching pictures of his favorite Quidditch players, including Ginny, using a blunt pencil.

Then, there was Oliver Wood, who Ginny was feeling rather confused about these days. She liked him - a bit more than she would have liked - because he was a funny and charming gentleman who never failed to cheer her up when she was down. She also liked him because he reminded her of her favorite brother Charlie. But that was why she also hated him, because Charlie had been lost in the war along with Bill and her dad, and every time Oliver did something that reminded her of Charlie, she became sad. He also annoyed the hell out of her, waking her up at vampire-active hours to practice Quidditch - in the rain, in the snow, in the middle of a heat wave, during thunderstorms (though he never suggested that again after a rather unfriendly lightning bolt turned his broomstick to char dust), whenever.

Draco Malfoy was not even worth thinking of, because her list of grievances involving him would be enough to wallpaper all the Hogwarts classrooms.

The small group of people, who could get under Ginny's skin like no other, were seated around her coffee table, while the rest of Harry's army of Aurors were searching for Dark artifacts that Draco could have hidden in her flat in the two hours that he was there, and Lavender's squadron of reporters and photographers were getting the insider's look at a Quidditch star's flat.

Unable to do anything about the ridiculously messy and embarrassing state of her flat, Ginny chose to ignore it. Instead, she set down fivecups of tea in front of her unwelcome guests, and settled herself into her couch, next to Oliver, and clutching a glass full of pain-relief potion.

Lavender took a sip of her tea, and transformed from a happy-go-lucky gossiper to a professional reporter. "Hello, everyone. I am Lavender Brown, from the Daily -"

"Cut the intro, Brown. We all know who you are," Draco interjected. From the way he was sitting in Ginny's plush armchair, with his feet propped up on her coffee table, he looked as if he owned the place.

"The guilty party has the right to remain silent! Anything you say can and will be used -"

"I am not guilty of anything, Granger, unless you're planning on arresting me for the rather entertaining thoughts I'm having about you dying a rather gruesome death."

"Potter," Harry barked. "Her name is now Potter."

Draco gasped theatrically. "Oh, no! My worst nightmare has come true! There will be bushy-haired, buck-toothed, scar-headed little freaks running around, with eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad!"

Ginny blushed at the deliberate reference to her second year, and hmphed indignantly.

Another indignant screech was heard from the bedroom, and Ginny flushed even more as she assumed that an unfortunate reporter had come across her underwear drawer - full of large, white cotton granny knickers, which would have the public laughing at her until she actually became someone's grandmother.

"Just so you know," Hermione pressed on, glaring at Draco, and completely oblivious to Ginny's state of painful mortification, "it doesn't matter that your name has been cleared for your activities during the war. You're still on my list of potentially dangerous individuals. After all, who knows what kinds of heinous crimes you committed to those poor Swiss villagers?"

"I turned everyone I didn't like into wheels of Swiss cheese, Potter," Draco said sardonically. "And then I sold them to the Americans at unreasonably high prices."

Hermione choked on her tea. "So that's why the general population of Switzerland was decreasing!" she spluttered. "You insufferable -"

"How do you live with her, Potter?" Draco demanded.

"Happily," came the retort.

Lavender loudly cleared her throat. "I am Lavender Brown, from the Daily Prophet. I appreciate you sitting here with me today -"

"You mean tonight, you evil wench. You woke me from my beauty sleep."

"- And I would just like to ask you all a few questions. First of all, Mr. Potter, is it true that you lied about killing Draco Malfoy, who participated in Death Eater activities during the Second War?"

"Obviously, seeing as I certainly am not the imprint of a departed soul."

"Mr. Potter?" Lavender insisted.

"Er, yes."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Er..."

"It's all right, Potter," Draco said in a mock comforting tone. "You can admit that you've secretly been worshiping me all those years, and couldn't bring yourself to kill my holy self."

"It was all Andromeda's fault," Harry snapped peevishly. "After losing her husband, her daughter, and both of her sisters in the war, Andromeda pleaded Remus to spare her only surviving relative, which was Malfoy over here. Andromeda was supposed to be his mother-in-law, and Remus couldn't refuse her, so he came to talk to me. I saw what had happened in the North Tower, and Malfoy fought for our side -"

"I did what?" Draco interrupted. "I thought I was a Death Eater through and through!"

Harry snorted. "No. At heart, you were Dumbledore's man through and through. That's why you didn't kill him."

"Not killing him does not interpret to mean that I was 'his man through and through'. I didn't kill you. Am I your man through and through? Not in a million years. I'm my own man."

"Which," Hermione said tartly, "explains why you joined Voldemort's crew of not-so-humble minions. Because you were, as you say, your own man."

Draco scowled, and crossed his arms defensively. "Look. I don't know why I joined, okay? My memory's gone. Father always told me that he would be proud if I followed in his footsteps, but he also said that if I didn't want to, he wouldn't be disappointed, as long as I didn't start fighting against the Dark Lord, because that would be plain stupid. And Mother said my skin was too perfect to mar with such unfashionable tattoos."

Harry rolled his eyes. "If we're done talking about the blinding beauty of your skin, Malfoy, can I return to my explanation?"

"One moment," Lavender said, scribbling away furiously and muttering, "Inside the mind of a Death Eater's mother: In an exclusive interview with Draco Malfoy, the Man-Who-Lived, he reveals that his mother, who was previously known to be a staunch supporter of He-Who-Was-Defeated, considered the Dark Mark as unfashionable. We here at the Daily Prophet must disagree. There is something decidedly sexy about a skull and a snake - two definitely macho tattoo images." She looked up and beamed. "You may continue, Mr. Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes again, so hard that Hermione looked at him in terror, hoping to Merlin that her husband's beautiful green eyes wouldn't get stuck that way. Harry's eyeballs returned to their normal position, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and Harry continued, "Where was I? Ah, yes - and he fought for our side, so I believed that it was possible for him to be redeemed. I talked to Andromeda, who insisted that her nephew did nothing more than duel with a few Order members, and we took Malfoy and started retrieving his memories to verify her claims. Of course, Malfoy was an accomplished Occlumens, and he resisted. I got angry, and perhaps..." Harry faltered. "Er... I'm digging my own grave here, aren't I?"

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "The public will be angry enough with the fact that you lied to them about Malfoy's death, and won't have time to berate you on your lack of subtlety and patience when dealing with Occlumens."

"Er, right... So maybe I tried a bit too hard - just a bit - to retrieve his memories, and we got them, all right, it's just that Malfoy never got them back."

"So it was you that wiped my memory? Bloody ingenious of you, Potter!" Draco roared.

Harry shrugged it off. "Andromeda preferred it that way, so he wouldn't wake up in the night, screaming from his war memories. So we let her take him away, and her final request was that she didn't want people to bang down her cottage door asking for interviews with Malfoy, and I, assuming that he would never come back, thought the easiest way would be to say that he died. I mean, even Lavender wouldn't go around in the afterworld, asking dead people for interviews."

"You have no idea, Harry," Lavender said mysteriously, then was all business again. "So now that we know what happened to you, Mr. Malfoy, why did you decide to join Puddlemere United?"

"Why did Puddlemere United put out that wanted ad for Chasers?"

"Why did you answer the ad?"

"What else would you do with a wanted ad? Ask it a question?"

"Could you stop answering my questions with questions?"

"Could I?"

Lavender turned white with suppressed rage, and pursed her lips together. After a few tense moments, she took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Malfoy, please answer me with a complete sentence that is non-interrogative. Why did you break into Ginny Weasley's flat at two in the morning?"

"I did not break in. I knocked, and Weasley opened the door."

"I thought it was Oliver!" Ginny exclaimed.

"And it was at two in the morning," Draco continued, "because I was talking to her at around midnight when she so politely Disapparated on me, and it took me two hours to locate her flat."

"Why did you want to locate her flat?"

"Because a pauper understands a pauper, and I decided that if anyone would give me a warm and loving place to stay, it would be a Weasley."

Ginny snorted tremendously at the word 'loving'. She drained the last of her potion, and felt unpleasantly woozy.

"Why Ginny?"

"Yeah. Why me?"

"I do not think of the Burrow as habitable in the slightest, so it was a choice between the flats of various Weasley offspring. None of the males are famous for their cooking skills, so I settled on the female one. Besides, she was on Puddlemere United, and I needed a job anyway."

"So that answers my first question," Lavender muttered. "Miss Weasley, what are your thoughts on - Ahhhh!"

"What are my thoughts on screaming? Well, I think I scream well enough to try out for the Bitchy -" Hermione tsked disapprovingly at the word. "- Banshees group and make the lead singer," Ginny replied, but Lavender was staring in horror at whatever was behind Ginny, and she followed Lavender's line of vision. "Great Merlin's socks."

From under the couch emerged Auror Ernie Macmillan, clutching what was unmistakably a blunt axe.

"It's a blunt axe," he remarked, rather unnecessarily.

"I was right!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. "Ginny, there really is an axe-murderer out to get you!"

All eyes turned to Draco. "What?" he asked, looking miffed. "I didn't bring it here. It's Weasley's. Right?"

Ginny, who had gone paper-white, shook her head slowly and said, "No. It's not mine."

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To be continued...

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