Twilight of the Dawn

Chapter One

"All right," Hermione said, standing in the shade of the Quality Quidditch Supplies awning, her bushy hair piled on top of her head to keep her nape cool in the late summer heat. "What's wrong with Ginny?"

Ron paused, a half-melted chocolate frog at his lips. "What d'you mean?"

Hermione waved her hand over to where the tall redheaded girl stood before the window display at Flourish and Blotts, her hands clasped behind her back, her head bent as if she were intently studying the green painted window trim. "Look at her!"

Throwing a quick glance towards his sister, he turned back to Hermione with a confused frown. "What about her? She looks fine."

"Who looks fine?" Harry asked, exiting the shop behind them, a new canister of broom polish in hand.

"Do you know what's going on with Ginny?" Hermione asked.

Harry furrowed is brow. "What about her?"

"She hasn't said a word for the past hour!" Hermione cried, becoming exasperated with their obliviousness. "And before that I only heard her mutter a 'thank you' to Pansy Parkinson, of all people, who happened to have held a door open for her."

"Hang on. Parkinson held a door open for Gin?" Ron asked, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his fringe.

"The point is," she said, ignoring his question, "she's acting strange."

Ron looked askance at Harry. "She has been a bit quiet since you showed up at the Burrow, mate."

Harry blanched. "You don't suppose she fancies me again, do you?"

"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said, juggling her packages in her sweaty arms - curse this infernal heat, she thought. She gave Ron a small, grateful smile when he reached out to take them from her. "She just seems... preoccupied," Hermione finished as she relinquished her purchases to Ron, not completely satisfied with her conclusion. It was something more than simple preoccupation.

"With what?" Ron asked. "She's already finished her O.W.L.s. Got quite a bit of them, too."

"She's off," Harry said, face screwed up as if the thought had just occurred to him.

Hermione threw up her hands. "That's what I've been saying!"

"Well, now I'm agreeing," retorted Harry.

"I still say it's got to do with Harry," Ron argued.

"It has not got to do with Harry."

Only, of course, it had a great deal to do with Harry. Ginny was strongly considering just handing over the orb and book to him and staying out of the entire mess; but then that inkling of doubt would creep in, as well as the horrid over-protectiveness she'd never quite outgrown. Harry was as good as a brother. She wasn't going to risk giving him some sort of ticking bomb which, for all she knew, the orb could be.

Dimly aware that her brother and friends were down a few shops from her, she moved from the window display and dipped her hand into the pocket of her robes, running a finger along the hilt of the dagger Malfoy had given her. She'd had little time since receiving it nearly a week ago to do anything other than hold it in the palm of her hand. Learn how to use it, he'd said. Well, who the hell was supposed to teach her? She sighed. There was no hope for it; she was going to have to teach herself.

Climbing the short stoop, she pulled open the door to the bookstore and slipped inside, the cool dimness a welcome relief from the unusually hot alley. She dodged past the throng of students and their families collecting around the displays of required books, and managed to retreat to the back of the shop without running into any of her classmates.

The section on weaponry wasn't very large - just a small shelf squeezed tightly in between Wandless Magic and Zoology. She walked her fingers along the gilded spines, yanking out a rather large tome entitled Ancient Swords and Knives. Only, leafing through it, the book seemed more a history of Muggle war artifacts, rather than the specific weapon wielding she'd need to learn how to properly handle the small, lethal knife. Finally, she settled on Weapons: Workable Solutions Without Wands and An Instructional Guide to Balanced Daggers, both slim volumes looking somewhat promising.

The shopkeeper gave her an odd glance when she placed the books upon the counter, but took her money happily enough, wishing her a good day. Purchases hugged close to her chest, she left the shop to find Hermione, Ron and Harry waiting anxiously for her on the walk.

"We're late, Gin," Ron said, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. "Supposed to meet Mum ten minutes ago."

Ginny nodded and silently fell in step alongside them as they made their way down the narrow, crowded alley, the press of many wizards and witches making the humid air even more unbearable.

"What books did you get?" Harry asked, craning his neck curiously towards her.

"Oh, nothing," She murmured, her mind already flipping through possible places to practice with her dagger. The attic... Although it got terribly hot up there during the day. Her room... However it was rather small and cluttered and, most obviously, would contain Hermione now until the start of school. She certainly couldn't do it in the backyard - not without questions. The pond, perhaps--

"Weaponry?" Harry asked, prodding the title that was exposed over her folded arm with a finger.

Ginny forced a smile and shifted the books. "Just some extra credit for Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said, and then fell back into her musings.

--But the pond was exposed on the left bank; anyone could see it from the house. Maybe if she went a bit further back in the woods. The brush would probably cover most everything but her head--

"Gin?"

"What?" Ginny snapped peevishly.

Harry grimaced. "Sorry. It's nothing."

Normally, Ginny would've smiled warmly and apologized for losing her temper, but she just nodded absently and sank back into her own thoughts. Harry turned to Ron and whispered. "Something's definitely off with Ginny."

"Maybe it's the heat," Ron shrugged. "She'll be fine once we're back at school."

******

The gentle rocking of the train lulled Ginny into a light daze, her eyes staring unseeing out the compartment window. She was, at the moment, alone; her companions - Neville, Seamus and Dean - having left to flag down the food cart again.

A small square book lay open, forgotten, on her lap. She had skimmed through it cover to cover several times already, but it was written in a language she didn't recognize, looking slightly like a cross between French, German and Italian, odd symbols scattered in no discernable order throughout the text. She could occasionally pick out a 'the' or 'of,' but not much else. In the back, though, which was the page currently in view, was a detailed scale diagram of the gold orb tucked safely inside her trunk.

The door of the compartment slid open and closed again, but the sound barely registered in Ginny's mind. In fact, she didn't realize she was no longer alone until the book shifted under her hands. Her gaze flew to her lap, took in the pale fingers pulling at the corner of the vellum, and then flicked up to the person sitting next to her. Draco Malfoy.

Ginny's breath came out in a hiss and she snatched the book off her lap, slamming it closed. "Malfoy," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Interesting reading, Weasley," he smirked, leaning back against the seat.

Ginny sat very still, clutching the book to her chest. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing yet," he replied, his smirk stretching into a cat-like grin. "Thinking of winning Potter over with an excessive amount of Quidditch knowledge?"

"What?"

"The book, Weasley," he sneered. "I realize you've inherited a short attention span along with your spots and blotches, but I'd have thought even you could remember what book you'd been reading."

Ginny blinked. He thought she was reading a Quidditch book?

"And as usual," he continued, his lip curled up in disgust, "I see you've resorted to a manual they most likely used fifty years ago."

He thought she was reading an out-of-date Quidditch book?

She started when his hand lifted to her chin, her mind flashing back to that steamy night mere weeks ago, but he only pressed a finger against her jaw, closing her mouth that had fallen open in shock.

"Mustn't let any more of your thoughts slip out, Weasley," Malfoy smirked. "I can see you're having enough trouble processing my words as it is. Really, I had no idea you were this inarticulate. Your brother, at least, usually manages to sputter a response."

Ginny batted his hand away and scowled at him. "Please leave," she ground out.

His eyebrows rose in mock-surprise. "A Weasley with manners. How novel."

Just then, the door slid open and Neville and Seamus tumbled through, laughing, their pockets bulging with sweets. "Sure you don't want..." Neville trailed off, his eyes rounding at the sight of Malfoy lounging beside Ginny.

"Malfoy," Seamus bit out, scowling. "Leave Ginny alone."

Malfoy chuckled maliciously. "The Calvary has arrived, it seems."

Seamus cracked his knuckles. "Two against one seems fair to me. You, Neville?"

Neville nodded nervously, but Ginny frowned over at them. "It's all right. Malfoy just stopped by for a friendly visit. Didn't you, Malfoy?" Ginny turned and placed her hand on his wrist.

Malfoy looked at her curiously, his head cocked to one side, slight surprise flashing in his narrowed eyes. Neville and Seamus bounced their gazes between them; mouths open in stunned silence.

"And he was just leaving, right?" Her hand slipped down to squeeze his fingers.

Malfoy dropped his gaze to their joined hands.

"Right?" she asked again when he didn't answer, tightening her hold.

"Gin," Neville finally burst out, red-faced, "are you holding Malfoy's hand?"

Ginny snatched her hand away and flushed scarlet. "Erm...no."

Malfoy rose to his feet, uncharacteristically silent as he shifted his gaze between the two Gryffindors at the door and the redhead beside him. He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut without saying a word. His brow wrinkled in displeasure and confusion, he pushed his way roughly past Finnigan and Longbottom and out of the suddenly stuffy compartment.

Once in the hallway, he paused to lean against the corridor wall, staring mutely down at his left hand. What had happened in there? The little Weasley had leeched onto his hand and he'd been struck dumb. His mind had become a jumble; all thoughts and nerves focused on the one burning spot that had been clutched by Ginny Weasley. Curious. Very curious.

He was not adverse to the feelings, although the fact that she had rendered him completely incapable of speech didn't exactly sit well with him. Still... he was intrigued. Power. She definitely had power... and that was something he always made time for.

Back in the small compartment, Neville and Seamus sank down on either side of Ginny, anxious frowns marring their boyish features.

"All right, Gin?" Neville asked, patting her thigh.

Ginny shifted her leg out from under his hand and smiled politely. "I'm fine, Neville, really."

"What did the slimy git want?" asked Seamus, pounding a fist into his open palm as if imaging it was Malfoy's face.

"Nothing important," Ginny replied, her tone firm. "Just stumbled in by accident. There was no problem," she insisted.

Both boys gave her skeptical looks, but settled back into their seats and started rifling through their piles of edible goodies, offering a few to Ginny. She declined the sweets, and was just about to get up and move to the other side of the compartment when Dean poked his head in, a wide grin splitting his face.

"Come quick," he said excitedly. "Hermione's started a fight!"

The three Gryffindors exchanged glances of disbelief, then jumped up and ran into the corridor. A small crowd of student's blocked the isle into the next car, but they could hear Hermione's voice raised shrilly in anger.

Pushing her way through the crush, Ginny came to a stop right inside the circle of gatherers. Hermione, face blotched and hair wild, stood in a wide stance, brandishing her wand menacingly at Blaise Zabini. Black char marks spotted the car walls. Zabini's wand was broken in two, the pieces resting on opposite sides of the isle.

"Damn it, Zabini, I am sick and tired of you whispering that foul word!" Hermione shouted.

Zabini coughed and lifted his hands to claw at the invisible binds that were choking him up against the wall. His feet dangled futilely in the air, but still he defiantly croaked out, "Mudblood."

Several spectators gasped, but Hermione ignored them and took another step towards him, her wand still trained on his throat. "Are you going to be a good boy and apologize?" she asked in a deathly sweet voice.

Zabini growled as best he could with his nearly crushed windpipe.

"I take it that's a no?"

"Hermione, no!" Harry cried, surging through the crowd of students, Ron hot on his heels. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching Zabini a lesson," she said through her teeth, eyes focused with intent on the dark-haired Slytherin. But the fire of hatred she saw in his blue depths, the defiance and loathing pitted directly towards her, caused her to take a small step backwards. What was she doing? She was acting no better than Zabini, and clearly making everything worse. This was why she never resorted to violence. Well, hardly ever.

Zabini fell heavily to the floor as she ended the spell, his legs spread awkwardly in front of him, and the mass of students let out a collective shout of laughter. Rubbing his neck gingerly, he got to his feet, his gaze furious and boring hotly into hers. "You'll pay for this, Granger. I swear," he threatened, his voice raspy from near strangulation, then spun on his heel and barked, "Out of my way," to a giggling group of Hufflepuffs, who hastily moved aside.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. She had definitely made everything worse.

"My God, Hermione," Ginny said, stepping forward as most of the students dispersed, wandering back to their compartments. "What was that all about?"

"You were bloody scary," Ron commented, picking up the pieces of Zabini's ruined wand. "You broke his wand."

"I know that," Hermione snarled, then groaned and pressed her hands to her cheeks. "What a mess. I... I don't know what happened. One minute I was squeezing past him in the isle and the next I had him pinned to the wall."

"He must have done something, Hermione," Harry said gently.

"Well, of course he did something. I wouldn't have attacked unprovoked," she said, affronted. "He called me Mudblood again." Frustration leaked into her voice. "He always calls me Mudblood."

Harry blinked. "Well, yes, that's awful, Hermione, but... um... Malfoy insults you with that all the time and I've never seen you... snap before."

Hermione knew it made little sense, but somehow she had come to expect that behavior from Malfoy; and perhaps if he didn't insult her, she'd be a little worried that something was horribly wrong with him. But Zabini... well, up until last year he'd been, if not exactly nice, at least polite to her. And the inexplicable change in attitude was infuriating. "It's... different with Zabini," she managed weakly.

"Different how?" Ron asked, fingering the splintered edges of the Slytherin's wand.

Hermione knit her brows together. "It's just more... personal, I suppose." She shrugged. "I'm being silly."

Harry turned in a slow circle, eyeing the mess Hermione had made in the car. "Doesn't look silly to me."

"Look, let's just drop it, alright?" Hermione said, embarrassed, then added petulantly, "I can lose my temper, if I want."

Ron, Ginny and Harry gazed at her mutely, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I can," Hermione insisted, performing a quick spell to clean up the corridor. "Come on, we should get back and get our things. We'll be in Hogsmeade soon."

A grin tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth and he nodded towards Ron. "We'd better do as she says."

"Yeah," Ron chuckled. "Might end up being pinned like Zabini."

"It is not funny," Hermione cried indignantly.

"Did you see his face?" Ron asked, snickering.

Harry laughed out right. "His cheeks were puffed up like a rabid squirrel!"

Ginny watched the exchange silently, taking in Hermione's red face and over-bright eyes as she sputtered at them to stop. Frowning curiously, she slipped away down the hall and made her way down to her own compartment. She slid the door open and found Zabini slouched down in a seat, scowling across at Dean as he related the parts of the fight they had missed to Seamus and Neville, who were bent over in hysterical laughter.

"...and then Hermione dodged a stunner and Zabini's wand flew out of his hand and slammed against the connecting door, snapping in two, sparks flying everywhere... I thought he was going to cry!" Dean laughed, and then proceeded to do an imitation of Zabini being choked up against the wall.

Ginny shook her head at the boys and clucked her tongue, then turned to Zabini. "What're you doing in here, Blaise? We'll be stopping soon."

Zabini shifted his frown up to her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Come on," Ginny sighed, grabbing hold of his wrist and urging the tall, dark-haired boy up out of his seat and into the hall. She reached up and touched the bruising around his throat with the tips of her fingers. "You've really got to stop aggravating Hermione, Blaise. It's not very nice."

"I wasn't trying to be nice," he growled.

She arched a brow. "I know what you were trying, and it's the wrong way to do it."

He jerked back his head and stepped away. "What do you know about it?"

"Enough to know that you're too old to do the 'I-pick-on-you-because-I-like-you' routine," Ginny said smugly.

Zabini looked appalled. "Are you saying you think I like Granger?" His cheeks reddened and he shook his head. "She just humiliated me in front of practically the whole school!"

"Well," Ginny smiled up at her friend, "you did deserve it. Besides," she shrugged, "you did basically the same thing to me."

"I didn't like you either," he said, disgruntled.

Out of habit, she smoothed a finger over the frown line in between his brows. "Sure you didn't. We just dated for almost a year, is all." She patted his arm sympathetically. "But that tactic isn't going to work with Hermione. She's much too smart."

He narrowed his blue eyes. "I don't like Granger."

"Fine," Ginny said, taking a step towards her compartment. At the door, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. He stood with his legs braced apart, easily riding the rocking motion of the train. A scowl creased his forehead as he stared down at the floor, rubbing his sore neck and muttering slightly under his breath. "Zabini," Ginny called, and waited till he looked up at her. "I'm pretty sure she likes you," she said with a smile, then opened the door and stepped inside. There, she thought, let the stubborn git chew on that.