What Do You See?

What Do You See?

Chapter 3: Fashionably Sensitive, Too Cool To Care :

"

"

- 'Don't', Jewel

( OMNISCIENT / THIRD PERSON VIEW )

"Ginny," called Ron, pushing the plate of buffalo wings to his sister. "Will you eat?"

"Not hungry," replied Ginny.

Ron changed from concerned to dead pissed. "That or go back to the infirmary."

Ginny kept whining about being alone in the Infirmary during meals, so Ron finally resolved to let her take dinner with them in the Great Hall.

"No, thanks." Ginny only pushed the plate back. Ron, giving up, raised his hands in mid-air in surrendering, and, shaking his head, went back to his own meal.

"Gin," trailed Harry, who was sitting in his usual place beside her. "You haven't been eating right, look at what happened to you last night. Don't want that to happen again, do you?" he said, pushing the plate back to Ginny.

"It's not.." Ginny paused, "I don't think that's why I fainted," and pushed the plate again away from her, this time moving it beyond Harry and Ron's reach, and said, "I was just pressured and tired and exhausted and.. I just needed some rest."

"Should I say, 'Good thing Malfoy found you!'?" asked Dean bitterly, joining the table. Dean, as well as everyone, has heard the news. After all, this is Hogwarts. "But I do think he hates the idea he helped you. I mean, he was piping hot in Potions, right Ron? I had the feeling he'd been craving to hit some Gryffindor heads since last night. Oh, and Gin, what was he doing there at the.." Dean started double-checking his collected news, making sure he heard every information right. But then Ron cut him in, perhaps to save Ginny from 'humiliation', as he calls it.

"Dean, would you like my Buffalo wings?" Ron picked a piece from his own plate with his bare fingers.

"N-no thanks."

Ginny stood up to leave, giving Ron a thankful look. Harry caught her hand as it swerved.

"Wait, where are you going? You're--you're supposed to.. you're.."

"Infirmary, where else? Supposed to what, Harry?"

"You're supposed to.. Wait, tell me what happened last night," Harry insisted.

There he was, Harry Potter, subtly asking Ginny Weasley to stay for a little while and talk, just as there she was, indirectly running away from him. Ginny began to wonder how it would feel like if she were in her first year, and Harry would do these little hand tricks to her. I had to be, she thought, the happiest Gryffindor of the night. But now, it was nothing more than an accidental interaction and no less than a touch. Ginny pulled her hand away from Harry's grip.

"I already told you this morning, how many times will I have to tell you?" she answered.

"Was that everything? Are you sure he didn't.. hit you or something?"

"No, silly. That's all." Ginny tucked her hair, she was now turning pink and didn't know why. "Can I go?"

"One more thing." Harry held up a finger. "Hope you haven't forgotten about it. You're supposed to give me an answer today."

But she had. Ginny roofed her mouth as she grunted, and tried to look for an escape route. Her eyes swept the room persistently, and only stopped when she spotted the blonde. That blonde.

Draco Malfoy - sitting across the room observing her. Ginny trembled at the prospect of being watched. She felt embarrassed for the first time -- after what happened last night. Both threw unspoken words, and Malfoy only locked himself up when Crabbe accidentally whacked him on the stomach. He looked away.

"Ginny..?" Harry's voice jolted her back to reality.

"I'm sorry? I haven't thought of it."

"Alright," Harry reacted quickly, and gave reason no chance at all. "It's alright. Go ahead and take a rest, visit you later if we can."

Ginny nodded with a gratified smile, and marched out of the room. As she approached the door a cold, ordering voice vividly rang out despite the varied Hall noise.

"Where are you going?" asked the voice sternly. Ginny halted, assuming the voice called out to her.

"Somewhere.. don't follow." But then another voice came, as a reply to the call.

Ginny disregarded these and paced, but before she could round the nearest corner, someone called to her. And this time, she was right it was to her.

"Weasley."

* * *

"You." Ginny halted, back facing the voice's owner. "Following me again?"

"I'm not following you," it said in disgust.

"If that's not following, then what are you bloody doing?" Ginny took a few huge steps.

"You don't want to know why, stop." Draco tried to catch up with the speeding girl, oblivious why he was doing so. "Would you just.. stop!" he shouted.

Ginny stopped, clenched her fists, and settled in her head that this night he's gonna see what it means to be around six brothers for the first eleven years of my life. But, "what do you want?" was everything she said.

"Nothing you could ever offer," said Draco, smirking.

Turning around, Ginny caught Draco's eyes, then again, looked away. "May I help you? No, come to think of it, nothing could help you."

Silence.

Draco let out a long sigh. Ginny eyed him cautiously as he was slowly walking towards her. Boots making the softest sound. Yet she was well aware she wasn't making any movement when the casual thing to do was to run or fall off the nearest window before anything like last night would happen again.

"What happened to you last night?"

"Nothing. What do you care? It's not like you.."

"Tell me," he cut in.

Silence floated once again.

Many have walked in the Infirmary during breaks to wish Ginny well, and partly to hear about last night, but it turned out that they only wanted to butt in for a good gossip. But now, beyond an unknown reason, she was more than glad to tell him what she thought had happened.

Yet to think that she could entrust anything to a Slytherin was foolish. Ginny shrugged, torn between doing the casual thing that was running away, or crafting any sane reason just to shut the lead head that was Malfoy.

Footsteps now growing louder as he moved closer, and heavier, and heavier. She listened. A hand seized her arm as if to stop her from doing a somewhat unspeakable action.

"Tell me," he pleaded. At least that's what Ginny thought. Then he's making fun of me, well, what's new?

"I don't know," replied Ginny awkwardly, hoping it would end the bloody hopeless chat.

Malfoy looked down to the boorishly positioned brickwork. Question answered.

"Satisfied?" Ginny strolled.

"Nearly. You can't not know anything about it. What, are you finally experiencing symptoms of that what-do-you-call disease where you die in the end?"

"Of course not," Ginny answered mockingly. "In two days or so I'll know. I'll be okay, Madame Pomfrey promised me that."

"She's not always right, is she? Then what if she finds out you've got a terrible, contagious disease?" Malfoy nearly smirked at the thought of the Weasel ailing in pain.

"Congratulations to you, then," said Ginny, as she was not interested in continuing a conversation where her own death was the matter of discussion. A trace of pleasure appeared on Malfoy's face, and Ginny hated it. "Oh shut up. I just fainted, lead head," Ginny followed up, uttering the last two words rather softly. "It's not like I'm decaying on the spot."

"The heck did you say? Lead head?" If he heard right, Weasley did say lead-head. And if he was also right, no one has ever called him that.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm going. Bye and nice talking."

"You said lead-head."

"I know, I'm not too old to forget."

"And not too old to pay."

"And you're forgetting you still owe me that much to be walking around and calling me lead-head, that's what you think I am, right?"

"And I owe you what?"

"Your life, mainly," Draco swiped his firm blonde hair, which to Ginny, was badly grown. "Back up there last night."

"I don't remember asking for your help, thank you."

"You obviously don't realize how stubborn you are." Which was likely saying you're an ungrateful rash bitch. But she was right, Draco's help was uncalled for. Not yet. "Don't go back to the tower if there's still some sense left in you, at least without me knowing."

"My tower, you mean?"

"My."

"What's in it for you if I went up or not?"

"Nothing. I mean, yeah, well go up at your own risk."

"Is that a warning?"

"Might be," Draco said seemingly.

"Is it me, or have you just recently found out you'd pay to give a damn about anyone?"

"Both. But not the paying part."

Ginny couldn't see the point in talking and replying to the shoddy guy following her who would probably go great pains just to piss her off. "Ugh, leave me alone."

"Don't you think you're a little alone, Weasley?"

Ginny looked around: she was. Despite herself, Ginny turned about and faced him, to supposedly say she had Harry, but before she could utter a word, she began to feel a tremor pass her shoulders, to her hair, then down her trunk, all the way down to her feet. It was as if a tuft of invisible slinky substances slithered around her. I was just like last night, only she didn't confuse the thing as a Dementor. Realizing she had gone weak, Ginny bent to the wall and extended a hand for support. But it wasn't the wall that secured her from falling.

"Jeez, what's wrong with you?" Draco sped to her with a rate Ginny couldn't even imagine one could achieve. Or was Ginny imagining things?

She wasn't. Malfoy felt a wild drive in him, and before he knew it, he was holding Ginny, preventing her fall.

Things went blur. And now she was breathing hard against her supporter's chest. Did walls have chest? She wasn't seeing right. Her head drooped like that of a boozer and not minutes have passed when she lost it.

Malfoy had never been this panicked before, even more panicked than he was last night, yet even more panicked than he is whenever he catches sight of the Snitch. This time he didn't only feel panicked, he felt fear. At first reluctant, he finally forced himself to lift the girl, though where he was to take her, even he didn't know.

* * *

"What am I even doing here, helping a Weasley?" disgusted, he almost spat right on the floor. "What the hell is wrong with me?" Draco grunted.

The quietness in his room was nothing compared to what the Infirmary Hall naturally possessed. Every particle in the passageway seems to have an invisible amplifier; Even Draco's scratching of forehead made a distinct sound.

"Isn't it wonderful how things change in a matter of minutes?" he wondered. "Draco, no, it's not wonderful. It's bloody annoying! It's like.. Damn it. Why am I talking to my bloody self?!" He cupped his forehead after another minute of recollection. Making up his mind, he got to his feet firmly. "That's it. I'm leaving and it's final."

He walked away from the chair Madame Pomfrey had provided him earlier after getting thrown out of the Infirmary. ("Wait there, Mr. Malfoy," ordered Madame Pomfrey as she closed the Hospital Doors tightly.)

Draco wasn't used to a thing like this. Not that he there wasn't anything or anyone to struggle with, he simply had his own way of dealing with himself. This thing he was experiencing was new. He'd been talking to himself from the moment the nurse had sent him out. And such an incident was alarming, since he would usually break a dozen things whether by wand or hand, but not really talk to himself.

He wasn't even a meter away from his chair, when he wheeled and returned, changed his mind again and decided to stay. He was beginning to think Madame Pomfrey had put an ass-towing charm on the chair--was it that, or did a part of him really want to stay?

"Will somebody scare my thoughts away?" he grumbled. "Where the hell are the ghosts when I need them?" He sat back on the chair and leaned on the wall.

"Oh, wall," as if it was the first time he felt the stiffness of a stone wall. Then, turning to it, he ---

Crack.

He merely mouthed the words 'shit" and 'ow!', afraid that they would only cause more pain. What he felt was an aftermath of hitting an innocent wall. And why? He wished he knew. He'd broken vases, yes, but never his own hand. He covered his injured hand with his good one, and dug them deep into his cloak. "What the.. did I just hit the wall?"

"What did it do?" It was Crabbe. Malfoy didn't see him coming, not even heard his footsteps approaching. "The wall's blameless."

"Then go marry it," he replied. "What are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing his hurt hand.

"Why would I marry a wall? It won't kiss me back," Crabbe retorted.

"Good for it. What do you want?"

Crabbe stood there, trying to remember something. "Me? Nothing.. but Snape wants you in his office."

"I don't remember asking what he wanted, nut head. What does he want, anyway?"

"Dunno.. word, I think."

Draco clamped his eye lids. "Not again."

Crabbe looked around the hall, as if searching for something that might have been hiding. His eyes fell on the uncovered Infirmary door-screen, then went to peek through it. "Nice job there." There was a playful smile in his face. Unfortunately, what he meant by nice job was Ginny. "How did you pull it off again? And you never told us.."

"Pulled what off?" he asked without a glance.

"Her!" Crabbe still looked inside the dimly lit hospital.

"I didn't pull anything off, Vince. She's not my work." Much to his displeasure, he was telling the truth.

"Yeah, to you. But everyone thinks you're tripping on her or something."

"Even you?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, above all."

"Really." This time, Draco stood, and was now equal to Vincent in height. "Take that back."

Crabbe's eyes widened in fear. There was nothing to be scared of a lanky boy like Draco, but what Crabbe always feared was Draco's shrewdness and his cunning way of responding to things.

"I--I was kidding," Crabbe mumbled, "'course you didn't."

Malfoy smirked. "Good, I'm glad you know."

"But what about Snape?" he asked.

"Tell him I'm busy."

"R-right."

"Thank you. We're over," Malfoy said each word imperatively.

Crabbe looked around again in the same searching manner.

"What now?" Draco asked him annoyingly.

"Who's with you before I got here?" Vincent asked skeptically, and only shrugged when he got a negative answer. "I hope you.." he paused, "..weren't talking by yourself again."

"I wasn't," defended Draco, and then again, he tried to send Vincent away. When he told him to 'go back to your painful shell,' Vincent retorted that he didn't have any, but before he could finish his sentence off, he was cut in by Draco.

"Just go!" If Draco was good at something else, it would be that he stood Crabbe's thickness for 6 pathetic years.

Crabbe nodded and left. Malfoy made sure Crabbe was out of earshot, slumped in his chair, and muttered, "Talking to myself? No way." Draco pampered his injured hand. Visions of Ginny falling and losing consciousness flashed in his mind. What the hell was Ginny doing inside it? He curved in his chair, and squeezed his ailing hand evenly.

"Stomach ache, Malfoy?" said a voice.

"Get lost in space, Crabbe," for once, Malfoy thought it was him.

"Oh, please, not Crabbe. I wouldn't choose his body even if it's the last thing in the world I could ever occupy."

Malfoy looked up and saw three familiar but never liked faces. Malfoy meant to say I was waiting for you but hesitated after seeing the look on their faces.

"Go to your sister, Ron," said the first voice.

Ron nodded and pulled a girl with him. They went inside.

Now, Malfoy and the other were left in the barren hallways. None knew what to say, though knew what to do.

And Draco somehow expected this.

A fist came driving at him, so quick Draco hadn't the chance to avoid it.

"Shit, Potter! That was my nose!" his voice chimed, echoed in the empty hallways.

"That was for Ginny." Harry clutched Draco's cloak with a hand, the other ready for another blow, but wavered. It was out of Harry's character to hurt others for a personal reason. And Ginny wasn't personal. Not yet, he thought. Dumbledore will be disappointed, surely. Harry let Draco go, and pushed him instead.

Draco didn't hit him back, he couldn't while he had a bleeding nose and injured hand. He sheltered his injury. "I'm bleeding!"

"And deserving it."

At that moment, Ron and Hermione had gone out of the Infirmary to check what has happened. Both of them stood shocked looking at Malfoy. They shot Harry a strange look, asking him if it was his fault.

Ron's eyes enlarged with joy. "You did it?" he exclaimed with rather disbelief. He couldn't believe Harry had finally done it to Malfoy.

Harry turned and bent his head on the wall, obviously regretting what he has done. "I missed, I aimed for his eye."

Hermione rushed back inside and returned with Madame Pomfrey.

"What.." asked the nurse. But seeing the bleeding Malfoy answered her simple question. She hurried to him and checked. Then, she looked at Harry, "Potter?" Even she couldn't believe what had taken place. "Potter, you attacked a student," she said, which sounded more like she was making a reality check than asking.

Harry buried his face in his hands.

"Why?" asked the nurse.

"Bastard thinks I touched his girl.." Draco replied, substituting Harry.

Madame Pomfrey turned to Draco, "Watch the language, Mr. Malfoy."

"Harry, we're.. we're not sure it was his doing," Hermione said. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I'm sure," Harry said naturally.

"Then prove it, ask her."

Madame Pomfrey sent Harry, Ron and Hermione back to their houses as 10:00 o'clock marked off, went inside the Infirmary with Malfoy to nurse his bleeding nose, and led him to a bed very far from Ginny. Draco looked at the girl resting at the opposite end of the room.

"Is she going to be alright?" Draco asked the nurse who was now wiping blotches of blood off his face. The nurse didn't seem to mind him. "Well, you need not answer. I certainly don't care if she wakes up or not. She'll be missed."

"Ask yourself that, Mr. Malfoy."

"How the hell should I know?" he stopped, and repeated nicely. "I mean, how-should-I-know?"

"Because you were her last companion. And, maybe, the only witness." When Draco's face turned sour with disapproval, Madame Pomfrey defended her first statement, "No, Mr. Malfoy, I am not accusing you of anything. But you simply are the closest we have to a suspect."

She sealed the ointment and put it back on the tray she later on collected and put back to its storage.

"This is ridiculous," the boy said, looking unwittingly at Ginny. "I saved her twice and I'm paying for it."

Grimly, the nurse stopped putting the flasks back to their places and threw Malfoy a suspicious look. "Paying? You're mighty rich, it shouldn't be a heap to worry. And did I hear you say 'saved'?"

Her stare made him feel uneasy. "Isn't she?"

"Boy, I don't think she's saved yet," Pomfrey explained as she joined Malfoy. "Professor Flitwick doesn't think so, likewise."

Malfoy's eyes searched for answers. "But she said you'll find out in two days.. and you'll cure it.."

Madame Pomfrey remained silent for a while, and gave him a cold look. "I can't."

"But you're the nurse," he stomped up, "you're supposed to know. But that's just it you lied to her."

"Hush, Mr. Malfoy!" she ordered him to sit down. "I know what I am supposed to do. And I've done what I could. But her case is.. out of my reach."

Draco sat back as he regained calmness. "What's the Charms teacher got to do with it?"

"He asked me earlier about Ms. Weasley's status," she explained, "Ginny's far from ill, and that's good news. I checked her up--her body temperature is normal, blood pressure is just as well. I've interrogated her brother, and found out she has never had any serious disease for the past 6 years."

"Then she's alright," Draco proudly protested.

"However," she added, "Professor Flitwick acknowledged he had experienced dealing with cases such as Ginny's. Ms. Weasley might appear perfectly healthy, but she isn't."

"Will you just come straight to the point?"

"I am saying, she's been charmed," Madame Pomfrey said plainly.

Draco almost laughed, "Charmed? But who would put a curse on her?" After receiving a steady look from the nurse, Draco shook his head, "No.. no. I'm not even good at charms. Don't look at me like that!"

"Who else but an enemy?" The nurse suspended her sweating hands in mid-air. "Someone who grudges her."

"Jeez, my family does hate hers.." he said frankly. "But if we wanted her hurt we'd rather have her dead.."

"Joking," Malfoy added. It simply wasn't the right time for a joke. Jokes are half-meant most of the time.

"Professor Flitwick says it's an old form of Magic," Pomfrey continued, though trying to remember Flitwick's statements word per word, "'Wizards used to curse their enemies with this charm. But-- later on it was unauthorized on account of the increasing death reports it began to price. The ministry took the lawbreakers to their custody, and even persecuted those who used the charm adversely.'"

"Woh.." Malfoy moaned doubtingly. "It kills? But how?"

"'All it takes is a look in the eye. The victim will first enervate, and if the process is repeated constantly, it could lead to his.." Pomfrey paused. "Or her death."

"Oh, then Flitwick must have had it."

"I don't think so." Pomfrey smiled as she shook her head.

"Well, I don't have it, do I?" Draco anticipated.

"You won't know you have something unless you find a use for it. But I wish and hope you don't."

"NO," he pressed, "I don't have it."

Pomfrey nodded. "Well then, if you say so."

"But.. there must be a medical explanation.."

"There isn't any," Pomfrey cut him immediately.

"And a cure?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Mr. Malfoy.." the nurse put a trusting hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should ask the Charms teacher personally." She walked to the storage she had left open, and smiled. "And by the way your nose will be alright by daybreak. You may go back to your room."

Draco returned the old woman's smile and turned to Ginny saying, "I think I'll stay. I'm a bit.. dizzy."

Pomfrey couldn't refuse a student's wish to stay in her clinic just because she didn't trust him. "Alright. I trust that." She left, and closed the doors quietly.

After a brief look at Ginny, Draco lay with his back facing her, and, closing his eyes, felt a surge to hit the wall again.

.TBC.