The Fiercest Calm

It was a cold day in December, and Ginny swore the air she breathed was so freezing that icicles were forming in her lungs. The snow crunched audibly underneath her boots as she trudged up from Hagrid's hut. She had come down to have tea with him, and despite Fang drooling on her lap and Hagrid's abysmal baking, she had liked talking with the half-giant. There was something about his simplicity and his gruffness that pleased her; she had gotten tired of complexity.

Ginny reckoned that she had dealt with enough complex emotions in her first year. She remembered with a shudder how she had felt then, with a mixture of self-loathing for being weak enough to be controlled, and something else, something darker. The truth was that she had missed Tom, even after she had learned the truth in the hospital wing--that she had been sharing her innermost thoughts, her emotions, her self, with Voldemort. Despite knowing that the boy she had grown to not only trust but adore was the modern incarnation of evil, she knew she would never again meet anyone who inspired her to feel so much inside that it just burned her up.

Ginny, now five years past her first year, remembered those feelings all too often. More importantly, though, she remembered the promise she had made to herself: that she would never, not EVER, allow herself to feel that weak again. She would never depend on someone else like she had depended on Tom. She was the only one she would depend on. She'd rather die than have Harry come to her rescue again. Ginny knew that was something she never wanted to have happen again. Harry loved playing the hero, but Ginny had decided that he could play it with someone else. She would never need saving again.

Ginny kicked at a clump of packed snow on the ground. Suddenly, she heard voices speaking in rushed, halted, hurried phrases; all-too-familiar voices practicing all-too-familiar conspiratorial whispering. Ginny's eyes darted quickly from side to side, searching for an adequate hiding place so she could spy on them. She cursed her hair for being so conspicuously red; she could never hide anywhere with it, and particularly not in this wretched snow. She settled for positioning herself behind a tree, and tried her best to hear what Harry, Hermione, and her brother were discussing such a short distance from the Forbidden Forest.

"But Harry, how can you be sure?" Hermione asked anxiously, her eyes wide in her pale face. "I mean, yes, of course it sounds suspicious, but how do you know there's Dark magic involved?"

"I just know," Harry said grimly, his complexion looking rather pasty and his eyes looking too bright in contrast. He looked awful, Ginny realized; he'd been looking steadily more and more angry and frustrated for years. "I think that by now I ought to be able to recognize evil when I see it."

"Harry, perhaps Hermione's right," Ron said uncomfortably. "Believe me, mate, when it comes to Dark Lords, no one's doubting your expertise." Ron sounded as if he were nervously trying to lighten Harry's mood. However, Harry's scowl merely deepened. Ron continued, looking even more uncomfortable. "But it's really not wise to start jumping to conclusions and accusing people of being in cahoots with You-Know-Who unless we've got solid proof to back it up."

"I agree with Ron," Hermione chimed in. "I could do some research in the library. There must be some precedent for this, something that could help explain these...things...that you're noticing, Harry. That would be the more logical route--"

Harry cut her off angrily. "Look," he began as his eyebrows furrowed, "Ron, you've gotten as bad as Hermione. Just because the two of you are Head Boy and Girl, you've both suddenly developed this great love for the rules. I don't have any use for whether or not it's wise to accuse people of things! I just know that there's something not right happening, and that if I don't do something about it, more people could die or be put in danger, and I don't want that on my conscience. That's just my opinion, though, but I'm sure the two of you aren't interested in hearing what I have to say, you know, me, the one who's actually had to FIGHT evil every year since I was eleven." Harry finished his tirade, and Ron and Hermione both stood there looking miserable.

Ginny felt a flush of anger roll through her, and momentarily forgot her curiosity about what they were talking about. How dare he attack his friends like that, when they had done nothing but be concerned for him? It's just so like him, Ginny thought furiously to herself, to be so self-righteous. He acts as though he's the only one who's concerned about Voldemort, Ginny added angrily to herself, thinking about her mum worrying herself sick over not only each of her children, but also Hermione and Harry, the ungrateful prat himself. Besides, Ginny mused, it's not as though he doesn't secretly adore being the hero. If Harry wasn't The Boy Who Lived, he wasn't anybody, and he knew that as well as everyone else. Ginny started to move out from behind her leafy hiding place to let Harry know exactly what she thought of him and his martyr complex, when she saw someone else moving into her line of vision. Three someone elses, to be exact. Two of whom hulked dumbly above the third, who would have blended into the wintry scenery if not for his black robes, with his ashen complexion and silvery-white hair that glinted metallically from the reflection off the snow.

Malfoy, Ginny thought coldly, as she stayed put behind the tree. She was going to watch this.

"Well well," she heard an aristocratic voice drawling unpleasantly. "What a surprise. Saint Potter, the Weasel King, and the Mudblood, all busily plotting the destruction of evil, I'm sure. Good to see some things never change." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered mirthlessly on either side of him. Ginny watched as Draco smirked, creating indentations--dimples? Who ever would have imagined that Malfoy would have dimples?--below his pointed cheekbones. His slanted silvery-grey eyes remained cold, however, and narrowed to slits as he stared at the trio. "What do you think, Crabbe? Ten points for wandering so close to the Forbidden Forest?"

Crabbe grinned stupidly. "I'd say that's going easy on them."

Ron started toward Malfoy, sputtering angrily, but a pale-faced Hermione pulled him back as Harry merely stood there, as though waiting for Malfoy to give him an excuse to snap.

"You can't do that, and you know it, Malfoy," Hermione stated coldly and simply.

Draco looked dismissively at her, his expression frigid. "Oh, but I can, Granger. What's more, you and the Weasel should learn to stay out of things too big for you to handle. Unless you want to end up getting the same end as Potter here will have." Draco smirked. "Not that I'd object, mind you, seeing the Dream Team go down together..." He stopped, looking blankly at the girl emerging from the forest. Her red hair contrasted starkly against the white of the snow covering the trees, and her wand was pointed straight at his throat. His expression was indecipherable as his eyes unblinkingly followed her. He blinked, finally, and his lips curved up sharply. "Oh my," Draco drawled. "Of course. How could any party be complete without the Weasel slag?"

Ginny had heard enough from her vantage point in the forest. If the little pasty-faced tosser wanted to threaten her brother, he'd have her to deal with. Ron could easily thump Malfoy if it came to just fighting, but he'd never get the chance with those two big lumps Crabbe and Goyle around. Besides, Ron was bollocks when it came to wand dueling.

She walked steadily towards Malfoy, her wand raised to his neck with an unwavering hand. "Malfoy, do you really think you're being intelligent, preening around the edge of the Forbidden Forest? I really don't think any of the teachers, or Dumbledore for that matter, would like it much if they caught wind that you had been abusing your Prefect privileges as well as threatening not only the Head Boy and Girl but also Harry Potter with their lives." Ginny snarled the last word. She had been walking steadily closer to Malfoy until they were barely a foot apart. She had stopped moving forward, but now Draco took a step forward, closing the distance between them even further. Crabbe and Goyle were standing around, looking confused, as though they'd awfully like it if someone would just give them an order.

Hermione and Ron both began to step forward to deal with Malfoy themselves, but Harry stopped them. "Ginny looks like she can handle it," he whispered.

"Are you threatening me?" Draco said it so quietly that he practically breathed it.

Ginny said nothing, but merely stood calmly in front of Draco with an aloof expression and one eyebrow raised.

Draco was silent for a moment as he eyed the girl in front of him. He took another step forward. "You really ought to develop better sense than your brother and his friends."

Ginny followed Draco's lead and closed the gap between them even further. "Oh, and pray tell me why, Malfoy?"

They were so close that Ginny could feel Draco's breath on her face. "Because when little girls get involved in dangerous things, bad things happen to them," he said quietly enough that Ginny was sure only she and Draco could hear it. "Unless you've forgotten your first year." Ginny sucked her breath in sharply. "Besides, Weaslette," he resumed breezily at normal volume once more, "you won't do anything to me, and you know it."

Ginny looked Draco squarely in the eye and grinned, looking suddenly feral. "I suppose we'll see." She knew that they were both recalling the Bat Bogey Hex incident of two years prior.

Something foreign glinted behind Draco's eyes as he suddenly reached forward and ran a hand through Ginny's hair, then deliberately caressed a strand at the front. As Ginny stood in mute shock at the audacity of his actions, he grinned, displaying small, sharp teeth, and traced one finger over her cheek. "I suppose we will." He stared at Ginny's face for a moment and his features slid out of the humourless grin and into a serious, blank expression. "You have grown up, haven't you?" Draco mused, an almost hungry expression crossing his face as he looked at her. His finger, which still lay on her cheek, pressed into her skin as he brought the rest of his hand up to cup her chin, but hard. Ginny winced involuntarily. "As I'm sure Potter has noticed as well." Ginny forced her expression to remain stony. Once again, Ginny noticed something inexplicable flicker behind his eyes as he studied her. Then his eyes were icy and unreadable once more, and his face resumed its usual casual smirk, but hints of a more bitter expression lay around the corners of his mouth. "But surely Potter knows better than to play with fire." He narrowed his eyes at her and sneered, before turning towards the castle and taking off in a quick walk, with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him.

Ginny was almost disappointed to see him go. She had wanted something to happen, though she wasn't sure what. She wanted to hex him into eternity, she wanted to scream at him, she wanted to drop her wand and pummel him with her fists. Most of all, she wanted to just do something, anything, to make him express some emotion besides disdain or chilly amusement, to make him act human. There was just something about Malfoy that...burned her up inside.

She realized she was still staring after his retreating form when Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared next to her. Ron, who seemed flushed and rather angry, had his hands on her shoulders and was looking searchingly into her face. "Ginny?" he asked her uncertainly. "What was that all about? What were you playing at? Malfoy's dangerous, Ginny, he wouldn't think twice about hurting you."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, so you're allowed to be brave and stand up for yourself, but I'm supposed to just stand back and allow you to fight all of my battles for me? I got sorted into Gryffindor same as you, Ron; I'm capable of doing things on my own." Ginny almost immediately felt guilty for her outburst as she thought of how much willpower it must have taken Ron to allow her to deal with Malfoy on her own. This wasn't the first time that his protective brother instincts had caused her to snap at him, and she realized that he was making an effort to let her grow up.

Ron scowled at her, and Hermione sighed and rushed to fix things. "Ginny, he didn't mean that. It's just that, well, you came out of nowhere. I suppose you just took us all by surprise. Even Malfoy," she added. A thought seemed to occur to Hermione. "What were you doing in the Forbidden Forest, anyhow?"

"I had tea with Hagrid, and I had just left when I saw you lot looking dodgy and Malfoy on his way over. And, well, I've been awfully worried about school and the war, and when I saw Malfoy being horrible, I suppose I just sort of snapped." Ginny tried her best to look sheepish. It wasn't exactly a lie, Ginny told herself; that last bit was as good an explanation as she could give even herself. And besides, she didn't want to tell them that she'd been eavesdropping on them.

In any case, it had the intended reaction; Hermione hugged her sympathetically as Ron patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. Harry just stood back looking at her with an unreadable expression. Ginny chose to ignore the odd feeling that knowing Harry's eyes were on her, that he was thinking something about her, caused in her stomach. She reminded herself that Harry had been pretty irritating these days and was, hero or not, hardly someone to swoon over. She shook her head and remembered what she had heard before Malfoy came along.

"What were you lot talking about, anyhow? It looked awfully important."

The three of them all looked briefly at each other, and seemingly reached the unanimous conclusion that Ginny shouldn't be included into their circle of trust. At least, not yet.

"Nothing important," Harry said simply.

Ginny wondered angrily why they all felt the need to lie to her. It had obviously been important, whatever they were discussing--something related to Voldemort. They knew she was just as dedicated to bringing him down as they were. She had her own bone to pick with him. She had done as well as any of them in terms of fighting, and yet they were all still determined to think of her as a silly little girl. She was unpleasantly reminded of Draco's mocking tone when he had used those same words to describe her just a few moments earlier--a little girl.

She'd show them, though. She'd find out what they were talking about. She'd contribute to the fight, and she'd do so well that afterwards, they would all--especially Ron--be forced to realize that little Ginny had grown up. The thought made her smile, and only when she saw Harry visibly perk up and smile back at her did she realize that she had been absently looking at him. She quickly looked away and down at the ground, and noticed the tracks in the snow made by Malfoy. Her eyes traced the tracks, and unbidden in her mind arose the image of sharp white teeth and silver-grey eyes flickering almost hungrily at her. She shuddered.

"I've got to get back to the castle," Ginny said hurriedly, ignoring the strange heat that rose through her at the thought of Malfoy looking so dangerous. "I've got Potions in fifteen minutes and Snape'll flay me alive if I'm late. Are you coming?" She turned and began walking back to the castle, her mind a troubled blur. Draco's offhanded comment about her first year had bothered her more than she had let on. She should have expected him to know something about it, after all, his father...she shook her head in an attempt to rid the whole scene from her thoughts. A moment later, Harry had hurried to catch up with her.

"Ginny, well done with Malfoy," Harry said with just a touch of admiration. She turned and smiled at him, a real smile, and then looked away from him and straight ahead of her. They walked side by side in silence the rest of the way to the castle.