Love, and Other Things That Hurt

Chapter Three

A change was noted in Ginny on Friday morning, and it startled her friends to say the least. She had worried them during the past week in the way that she seemed to zone out with exhaustion, her eyes red and watery, her skin pale, and they could not understand why she was so tired.

Which was why, when Harlow yanked back Ginny's bed curtains that morning to wake her up, an event that had become a tradition since Monday, she was more than a little surprised.

"That's weird," Harlow muttered. "Linnéa? Where's Ginevra?"

"I haven't a clue," Linnéa responded from her own perfectly made bed, on which she sat cross-legged, brushing out her shimmering golden sheet of hair. "I've been up since quarter to seven and I didn't see her get up."

"Very weird," Harlow decided, frowning around the dormitory. "Well, let's go down to breakfast. Maybe she crashed with 'Mi, though that doesn't really make sense, because she was here when I got up to pee at four in the morning."

Linnéa wrinkled her nose. "Crash? What on earth does that mean in that context?"

"So sorry, Mademoiselle Decoulter," Harlow teased in a prim British voice reminiscent of Madam Pomfrey. "A slumber party of sorts, then. A small elegant gathering in pyjamas. An evening tea party sans the tea, if you will."

"Oh, shut up," Linnéa snapped with a grin. "You're in my country, speak my language. And, for your information, Harmony, nobody actually has tea parties anymore."

"Mrs. Weasley does," Harlow pointed out, running her fingers through her damp chocolate-colored waves. "Whatever. It's no fun making fun of the British without taking advantage of the timeless clichés. Are you done primping? I'm famished."

"You're always famished," Linnéa pointed out. "And you've not even done your hair."

"Hmm, you're right," Harlow said, pausing at the wardrobe mirror and examining her reflection critically. "Let's see."

Sticking her wand in the pocket of her robes, Harlow grabbed a mass of her hair, and with a flick of her wrist, had it gathered in a secure French twist. Holding it in place with her right hand, she grabbed her wand and tapped her head with it. Instantly, her hair was gleaming and smooth with not one hair out of place.

"There we go," Harlow said with satisfaction, turning to Linnéa. "What do you think?"

"Not bad," Linnéa said, already heading towards the door. Before leaving, she glanced back with an eyebrow raised and added teasingly, "For an American."

They were halfway through the common room when the portrait hole opened and Ginny emerged, a jacket on over a t-shirt and sweatpants, her cheeks flushed.

"Whoa," Harlow said, stopping short and staring at her best friend. "Where have you been?"

"Running."

"Running?" Linnéa repeated.

"Yes. Running. What's wrong with that? Why are you giving me dodgy looks?"

"Well," Harlow said after a moment's consideration. "Honeypie, you don't run."

"I do now," Ginny said flatly. "It's invigorating, I should have pick it up earlier. In fact, I've no idea why I haven't before."

"Are you, um, coming to breakfast?" Linnéa asked hesitantly as Ginny brushed past them, already pulling off her jacket.

"No," she responded without turning around. "Need a quick bath. See you later."

They watched her go with similar looks of bewilderment.

"That girl," Harlow said darkly as she pulled Linnéa with her out the portrait hole and into the corridor, "has totally lost her mind."

Luckily for Ginny, the prefect's bathroom was empty when she reached it, and she undressed as the gigantic tub filled, keeping her mind carefully blank. It had been far easier when she had been jogging on the grounds; the morning air was crisp and chilly, and she could concentrate solely on the searing pain in her lungs and the burning of her eyes as the wind robbed them of moisture. She had had something to focus on then...something other than what had happened the previous night.

Why had she done it? She thought back angrily, trying to remember what had been going through her mind as she had made that proclamation that she had told herself she would never make, and came up blank. It was as though she had been possessed.

Possessed by the truth.

The water was a relief, hot and bubbly, filling the bathroom with the flowery scent that had become Ginny's trademark. She hadn't seen his face react to her words; she had turned away too fast.

It didn't matter, though...she knew he would be irritated. It was probable that he was planning to confront her, accuse her of trying to add unnecessary emotional dynamics to what had before been an easy, comfortable and satisfying sexual relationship. Ginny winced as she floated on her back. It was against everything that they hadas a couple had stood for. Why oh why had she done it? Why had she let it happen?

Because, the voice in her head told her. It was tearing you up inside.

I love you.

Ginny washed and dressed so quickly that she was only ten minutes late when she slid into Charms, taking a seat between Luna and Linnéa after tossing a quick apology at Professor Flitwick.

"Hi, Ginny," Luna said pleasantly, surveying her with a peaceful smile. "You smell nice. Like poisonous New Zealand Kerfluffluatis daisies."

'Thanks, Luna," Ginny said, choosing to ignore the second part of the Ravenclaw girl's comment. As she shuffled through her bag to gather quill, ink and parchment, she caught a glimpse of herself in her compact mirror amidst the clutter of her school things. Unlike the previous days of the week that was now coming to a close, her skin was flushed rather than pale, her eyes over bright instead of bloodshot. She looked...defiant.

How appropriate.

When Professor Flitwick turned to the board to illustrate a point he was making, a piece of parchment appeared on Ginny's desk as though it had materialized out of thin air. Ginny seized it, glancing down to see that at the top was a line in Linnéa's flowery handwriting.

I know you said you were OK, but I don't know if I believe you. You look strange.

Ginny sighed before scribbling back and thrusting the paper onto her best friend's lap.

Strange how?

Linnéa shot her a look before replying.

I don't know. Like angry, but not. It's just odd. All this week you've seemed tired but kind of happy, and now you look...defiant.

Damn Linnéa and her perceptiveness! Harlow was pretty acutely turned to her friends' dispositions, but Ginny felt that Linnéa's ability to sum up her emotions in such a weirdly accurate way was proving her on a whole different level.

You're crazy. You overthink every little thing. Is this about the running?

Well, Gin. You know...you don't run.

Maybe I'm a changed woman.

But what changed you? Merlin's sake, stop giving me that exasperated look! I just want to know that you're alright.

Can we not talk about this? Let's talk about you. How are things with the Hottie-Who-Lived?

Don't change the subject! And things are...not anything. We have absolutely nothing to do with each other. He's certainly not interested.

Oh, please. You're so beautiful you practically glow, and he's got eyes in his head and blood in his veins. If you want to make a move, I doubt he would insist that the clothes stay on for long...

Oh, shut up. I don't want to make a move, I'm not interested in a relationship. And stop changing the topic, Ginevra! Are you going to tell me what's going on?

At that moment, Professor Flitwick said loudly, "I trust that you have all gotten the hang of the charm. "Miss Decoulter, would you care to demonstrate it for us?"

Only due to an excess of time spent with Hermione in the evenings was Linnéa able to plaster on a confident smile and somehow manage to turn her glass of vinegar to wine despite the fact that she had not been paying attention to the lesson. Professor Flitwick beamingly awarded Gryffindor ten points, and ended the class by assigning an essay and two pages of textbook questions, inducing groans from everyone.

"That was close," Linnéa said with an anxious sigh as she, Ginny and Luna left the classroom and started up the corridor. "I don't know how you and Harmony can spend all of Transfiguration passing notes every day. It's far too stressful."

"You made a lovely recovery," Luna commented serenely. "You may have quite the future in theatre."

They said goodbye to Luna at her History of Magic class and met Harlow as she was coming out of Arithmancy. She greeted them a little too enthusiastically, even for her, and Ginny had the distinct impression that she was never going to live the whole running thing down.

Thank Merlin it's Friday, Ginny thought wearily throughout the rest of the morning. Two days of no classes and blissful hours of sleep. Ginny felt a pang as she recalled another favorite weekend activity of hers, which might be under some strain.

Why did I have to say it?

He wasn't at lunch, but she wasn't angry or surprised. He wasn't at dinner, either. Ginny didn't eat anything all day, and this did not go unnoticed by her friends.

"What the hell is up with you?" Harlow exclaimed after Ginny spent the entire dinner hour staring gloomily at the dark gray ceiling. "Usually you eat more than Seamus and Ron put together - " Both boys responded to this with mildly affronted looks. " - and now you're...I dunno. Brooding."

Ginny ignored this, pulling her Potions book from her bag and propping it open on the pumpkin juice jug in front of her. She noticed Hermione nudge Harlow under the table, and was grateful for it, as it seemed to be effective in silencing any further questions from the American girl.

Ginny also noticed that another person at the Gryffindor table seemed to be brooding. She tried to catch Neville's eye, but the older boy was staring moodily at his plate and did not look up. Ginny saw that nobody else seemed to notice that Neville wasn't talking or eating either, and felt a stab of guilt.

"Quidditch practice!" Harry said as dinner ended and everyone got to his or her feet, the Great Hall noisy with chatter. "You coming, Ron? Ginny?"

"I'll meet you down at the pitch," Ginny said as she slung her bag on her shoulder. "Bathroom."

"See you later," Linnéa said gently to Ginny as they made to part ways in the Entrance Hall. She kissed Ginny on the cheek and slid her arm in Harlow's to return to the Gryffindor common room as Ginny waved and hurried down the corridor off to her right.

She could not decide if she wanted to see him or not. She couldn't. Part of her was worried that when they did come face to face, she wouldn't know what to say. Normally a declaration of love in a relationship more than ten months along was a positive step. But not in theirs...and Ginny had known it long before she had let the words slip out.

Even through her exasperation with herself, her embarrassment, and even her outright defiance, Ginny was achingly aware, as she descended down into the dungeons towards the Slytherin common room, that he had not, and would not, say it back.

She knew this because she knew him.

"Weasley!"

Ginny spun around. Professor Snape was striding towards her, one dark eyebrow arched coolly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously. "Take a wrong turn on the way to the Tower?" He sneered.

"I'm looking for Malfoy," Ginny said without thinking. As soon as she realized what she had just blurted out, she felt her face grow hot, the curse of redheads. Why the hell had she just said that, of all things? For one thing, she wasn't even sure if it was true. For another, even if it was, Professor Snape was certainly one of the last people who needed to know about it. Luckily, Ginny managed to think fast and, at a moment's inspiration, she reached into her robes and withdrew her infrequently used prefect's badge.

"McGonagall wants to see him, Professor," she lied swiftly, cutting across Snape as he opened her mouth, his forehead creasing. "I'm just the messenger, she sent me to find him. Do you mind, sir? It's about the NEWTs."

Snape looked coldly indifferent. "I see," he said icily. "Unfortunately, you're in the wrong place, Miss Weasley. Malfoy is currently in the hospital wing."

Ginny felt the blood that had rushed into her face drain as rapidly as it had appeared. 'Oh," she said, working hard to keep her voice offhand. "Right." She hesitated, and then asked, with a convincingly casual air, "Why is he there?"

"Nothing life threatening, I'm sure," Snape said in a bored tone. "I suggest you let Professor McGonagall know that he is indisposed...your prefect duty, after all."

Ginny mumbled assent, ignoring Snape's mocking smirk as she hurried past him up the corridor and towards the staircase that led from the dungeons.

She knew she was going to be running late for Quidditch practice, but she didn't care. The hospital wing? He couldn't have been faking ill, even...Madam Pomfrey was not easily deceived. As Ginny hurried up the stairs and through hallways, pushing past dinner stragglers in the Entrance Hall, her mind was in overdrive as all her thoughts and worries collided with each other. Was it serious, this ailment? And then, ridiculously; had she someone been the cause?

Maybe he went into cardiac arrest, Ginny thought dryly to herself, employing a Muggle complaint as the reason Draco was hospital-bound. Wouldn't that be ironic. She told him she loved him, and he had a heart attack. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly as she finally stopped, panting, in front of the oak door with hospital emblazoned on a tarnished silver plaque. Damn the arrogant bastard to hell! Why was she always the one chasing him?

She knocked. Madam Pomfrey answered so quickly that Ginny was startled back a few feet.

"What is it, Miss Weasley?" the matron asked briskly, sticking her head through the door. "If this is a complaint about menstrual cramps, then I'm afraid you'll have to come back later. The Soothing Solution is still stewing."

"No, no," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I, um...need to see Draco Malfoy."

Madam Pomfrey looked taken aback. "He's not here anymore," she said, surveying Ginny in a calculating fashion. "I discharged him half an hour ago. He was quite anxious to leave, although I would have felt better had he stayed overnight..." She shook her head disapprovingly. "The stubbornness of youth."

Ginny felt a wave of wonderful relief. "OK," she said, plastering an angelic smile on her face. "What, er...what was wrong with him?"

Madam Pomfrey gave her a stern look. "Fever and vomiting," she said matter-of-factly. "Zabini brought him into me this morning. He was in a right state. Anything else, Miss Weasley?"

"No," Ginny said dazedly. "No. That's everything. Thank you."

And she hurried away, her thoughts colliding in a jumble of insanity.

Harry was highly irritated when she showed up on the Quidditch Pitch twenty minutes late, and rightly so, but Ginny barely took notice. Practice, usually one of Ginny's favorite things, seemed to drag on for endless excruciating hours. She was so distracted that she got hit in the face by the Quaffle twice as Demelza tried to pass it to her.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron called from the goalposts as Ginny rubbed her head and Harry blew his whistle.

"Sorry, sorry!" Ginny said weakly as Harry shot her an exasperated look. "I just feel sort of ill. It won't happen again."

Mercifully, the grey clouds overhead that had been hovering in the skies all week finally broke, and a downpour commenced, soaking them all to their skin within seconds.

"Let's clear out for today," Harry yelled to his team as the wind began howling, whipping their robes around them. "Good work." This comment was obviously directed at everyone but Ginny, and she felt she probably deserved this. "Back to the castle."

Ginny was the first one to arrive, dripping, in the Entrance Hall. She was cold and achy and exhausted, but the last thing on her mind was going back to the Tower. Her anger and embarrassment had, for the moment, abated, and she only had one thought in her head...she needed to see him, and she needed to see him now.

Trusting that the assumption she had gone off for a bath would be made in her absence, Ginny shouldered her broom, shook drops of water off her hair onto the mat inside the front doors, and took off up the staircase. The trip to the sixth floor and the statue of Barnabas the Barmy seemed far shorter than usual, and when she entered the familiar room and closed the door behind her, her heart pounded with anticipation of seeing him, of being in his arms again. She had spent so many nights denying real feelings for Draco, and now that she had voiced the long-lingering truth, she felt that love for him pulsing under the surface of her skin whenever his name crossed her mind.

I'm in love with Draco Malfoy, Ginny thought to herself as she waved her wand so that the lights went on, illuminating the empty room. Even in her head, the words sounded ridiculously annoying.

It wasn't, of course, the type of love that Ginny had been brought up to believe in. For one thing, it usually pissed her off more than it brought her happiness. It was also something she hadn't wanted; or, in any case, she hadn't wanted it with him.

Despite her muddiness, Ginny sank onto the bed, the one they had spent so many nights in together. This was where their relationship had been built. They teased, argued, insulted, and shagged, and never once had the idea crossed Ginny's mind that she would ever need or want anything from Draco besides his body and his mind.

Like his heart.

The minutes passed and continued passing. In her head, Ginny was formulating words to say to him when he arrived.

Do you think I wanted to fall in love with you? All this does is complicate my life! You complicate my life! You are just an arrogant, bullying prat with a swelled head whose family has had a feud with mine for generations, and who also just happens to be an amazing kisser. So what if you're really good at having sex with me? That's all I wanted from you in the first place!

Ginny pressed her face to her hands. She felt ill. It was funny; Draco always seemed to have that effect on her.

It was lust, she thought miserably to herself as she closed her eyes. That's what the feeling had been to her for all these months, that feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when she saw him, that feeling that intensified when he touched her. How could she love someone that she didn't even like, she wondered? But that was the problem, she knew. In the past ten months, Draco was really the only person she had been herself with completely, the only person she had been totally honest with.

He knew her. He knew her better than anyone, and in a way that Harlow and Linnéa couldn't be, he was her best friend.

The fact that this revelation did not surprise her in any way only confirmed to Ginny what she had already guessed...her denial was falling away.

Hours passed in empty silence, and only when Ginny finally opened her eyes, putting an end to all the thoughts still racing through her head did she realize that he hadn't come.

-

The next morning, Ginny was in a fury.

She was up at five and, just as she had insisted to her friends that she would, went out into the dewy ground to go running. She sprinted around the castle eight times with her blood pounding in her head, riding out her hurt and betrayal with each step she took. When she returned to the Entrance Hall at six thirty, her t-shirt was soaked through, and her anger had not abated in the least. This gave her a bitter sense of satisfaction.

For Merlin's sake, she hadn't fucking proposed marriage! He couldn't avoid her. He had no right to avoid her. Ginny didn't chase boys as a rule, but when it came to a situation such as this, Ginny made an independent decision that this was an exception.

Ginny knew that Harlow and Linnéa wouldn't be up for hours, along with most of the castle. Nevertheless, she bathed quickly, dressed, and went down to breakfast on her own, intending on staying there until he turned up, even if she had to sit in the Great Hall all goddamned day.

It was mostly empty by the time she arrived, but the fact that it was only seven was the likely reason for the absence of people helping themselves to the first bacon of the morning. A few girls from her year waved at her from the Hufflepuff table, but she had barely smiled back at them when she noticed Neville.

He was sitting at the very end of the nearly vacant Gryffindor table on his own, and he looked a real mess. His hair stood up in all directions like Harry's, his robes were rumpled and wrinkled, and his complexion was blotchy and uneven. He was staring at a stack of pancakes on his plate with a miserable air, and as Ginny got closer to him, she realized with a start that he had obviously lost weight.

"Hi, Neville," she called, hurrying over to sit across from him, smiling brightly. She had no idea what could be wrong with him, but if it meant that she could spend a few moments redirecting her energy and feeling sorry for someone other than herself, she intended to find out.

Neville jumped, startled. "Oh. Hi, Ginny," he said with a false smile, and Ginny got the impression that she was not the only one losing sleep lately either. "Uh...how are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Ginny said carefully. "What about you, Neville? You OK?"

She expected him to assure her that he was fine, to deny any problems, and therefore she was taken aback when Neville's eyes began to glisten and he dropped his head on his arms.

"Neville!" Ginny exclaimed as his shoulders began shaking and he began heaving great shuddering breaths. "What is it?"

"I'm...sorry," Neville mumbled, wiping his face on the back of his hand and looking up at Ginny, his eyes watery and red. "I'm just...just a little...you know. Over - overwhelmed. With school and all that."

"Oh, come on, Neville," Ginny said soothingly, reaching across the table and patting his arm with her hand. "You can tell me the truth." She knew school anxiety, and even Hermione didn't get this upset over homework. This was something else.

Neville's eyes filled with tears as he stared hopelessly up at her, and she was just about to gently offer him a tissue when he suddenly wailed, "It's Linnéa."

Ginny stared at him. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly had not been this.

"I'm just...she just..." spluttered Neville, making wild arm motions as two first year Ravenclaws walked back, staring at him in alarm. "She - she doesn't even know I exist!"

"Oh, Neville, that's not true," Ginny said with a tone of false encouragement, forcing an earnest smile onto her face. "I know that Linnéa considers you one of her closest - "

"Friends?" Neville interrupted shrilly, his expression going from weepy anguish to hysterical agony. "Oh, yes, I know. Neville Longbottom, the friend. That's all I'll ever be. The friend. I don't want to be her friend, Ginny, I want...want..."

A gurgling sob caught on his words and he slumped forward, shoulders shaking.

Ginny didn't know what to say. She knew what Neville wanted...knew it only too well. He wanted a relationship, not a friendship, much as Ginny had been starting to feel about her 'friendship with benefits' with Draco.

"I can't stand it," Neville whispered from the table in melodramatic tones. "I can't...I need..."

"Well," Ginny began cautiously, beginning to get the feeling that no matter what she said, it would be the wrong thing. "Maybe you should try, you know...talking to her? Feel her out?"

Neville glanced up, frowning. "Seamus told me that girls get angry when you do that."

"What?" Ginny said, bewildered. "I - oh, for Merlin's sake, Neville, feel her out, not feel her up!"

"Oh," Neville said solemnly. "What's the difference?"

"Look," Ginny said with a sigh. "Just talk to her, alright? And maybe casually mention something along the lines of a date, and casually hint that maybe she would want to go out with you sometime."

Neville goggled at her. "Does that actually work?"

"Well, sometimes," Ginny added hastily, thinking of Colin. "But remember, Neville, it is her decision. If you're going to go out on a limb and make a move, you have to anticipate rejection. It's a self-defense mechanism."

"She'll say no," Neville said gloomily, wiping his nose on a napkin that Ginny had gingerly placed in his hand. "She'll say that she doesn't want to ruin our special friendship and that she's not ready to date."

Ginny could hardly dispute this. Knowing Linnéa as she did, she would probably say exactly that, right down to the 'special' in friendship.

"It's worth a shot," Ginny said brightly. "C'mon, Neville. If you like someone you should always let them know it. They deserve a chance, and so do you."

Neville shook his head. "I'm hopeless," he muttered. "Girls don't like guys like me."

Ginny gave an impatient sigh. "Not with that attitude," she pointed out irritably. "Come on, Neville. If you don't think you're worth anything, no girl is going to think you are either. You have to have some confidence in yourself, some swagger. Make her know that you're worth having."

Neville, who didn't seem to be getting the concept, gave her a funny look. "But...I'm not," he said slowly.

"Yes you are!" Ginny exclaimed, losing all patience now. "You are, Neville, and if you want Linnéa, then you have to go get her! Don't stand by and let her get away! She won't be available forever; she's not going to wait for you to come around. You have to go for it now, tell her how you feel, and, goddammit, be a man about it! Don't hide away like a coward just because you're afraid of your feelings."

She finished speaking, breathing hard as though she was still running on the grounds. She regained her composure and looked at Neville, who was staring at her in awe.

"Whoa," he said, looking impressed. "You're good."

"Yes, thank you," Ginny said, fairly certain that some personal experience in the matter at hand helped her deliver her rather rousing 'be a man' speech. "You see what I'm saying, Neville? There will always be other girls, but if you want this one, if you want her, than you have to go get her."

Neville nodded, gloom tangibly setting over him again. "I dunno how," he said mournfully. "I don't...I don't know how to tell her."

"Tell you what, Neville," Ginny said, feeling a strong sense of obligation to assist him in this particular predicament. "I'll give you a hand, okay? Later. I'll go through some things you can talk about and how you can...present your case."

"Really?" he asked, looking at her wide-eyed. "Really? Wow, Gin, that's - that's just great. I mean, I would really...really appreciate..."

"Don't mention it," Ginny said breezily, reaching across the table for the scrambled eggs. "But remember, Neville, I can't make any promises about Linnéa. The best I can do is to help you out, but she had a choice in this too."

"Yeah," he said with a sigh, pushing back from the table and standing up, dropping his napkin on the table. "Yeah, I understand. Thanks, Ginny. I'll talk to you later, then?"

"Sure," Ginny said, and she returned the smile he gave her and watched him walk off, his shoulders a little straighter than before. Poor, poor Neville. Why he had to like Linnéa of all people, the most unattainable girl in the house, Ginny did not know. Everyone knew she didn't date, and it would have been far easier for him to go after a girl who had more of a reputation for being 'available' - Lavender, for instance.

But really, Ginny mused as she finished breakfast, and resolutely crossed her arms, her eyes on the doors of the Great Hall. Life in general would just be easier if we were in love with the person who was good for us, wouldn't it?

As the Great Hall started filling, Ginny began to feel dizzy. She considered going to the hospital wing, but couldn't see how that would help. Against the tide of Hufflepuffs who had just entered the Hall, she slipped out and into the Entrance Hall, heading for the front doors. She just needed some air; that was all.

She threw open the doors, stepped outside, and promptly screamed so loud that a few birds nesting in a nearby tree took flight in alarm.

"Ow," Draco said wryly, wincing and putting a hand on his head. "Just draw and shoot next time, please."

"What -" Torn between shock and fury, Ginny couldn't seem to form words. "What the fuck are you doing, lurking outside? Are you trying to kill me?"

"I was not lurking," Draco said indignantly, raising his eyebrows. "You're the lunatic who flung open the doors and almost blew out my eardrums with your incessant shrieking."

"Don't even start with me," Ginny growled, turning on her heel and making to walk away towards the lake. "Trust you to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He grabbed her wrist before she could get out of reach and pulled her back to him with his usual strength that far outweighed her own feeble struggling. "And what," he said with a scowl, "is that supposed to mean?"

Ginny scowled right back. "Nothing. Let go of me."

"No," Draco said, just as fiercely. "I'm always in the wrong place at the wrong time? At least I'm not -"

"What?" Ginny asked, an edge of hysterical anger in her voice. "Not what, Draco? Not avoiding me, is that it?"

He hesitated. Viciously satisfied, Ginny wrenched her arm out of his grip and stalked away through the damp grass. By the shuffling noises behind her, he was following her at a distance. She ignored him and dropped down under an oak tree by the far end of the lake, pulling her knees up to her chest and setting her head on them. When he slowly made his way over to her and sat down beside her, she didn't look up.

There was silence.

"So," he said finally, not looking at her either. "Why did you do it?"

Ginny was unable to resist turning to glare at him, her eyes burning. "Really?" she said acidly. "Is that really the question you want to ask me?"

"Yeah, it is," Draco said coolly, meeting her gaze with an air of maddening calm. ""If there even is an answer."

And what the hell does that mean?" Ginny said sharply. "You don't think I meant it?"

"What I think," Draco said evenly, "is that you don't know what you mean."

"Then you're a sodding idiot," Ginny said furiously. "I didn't say it by accident, Draco. Maybe saying it was a mistake, but I still -"

"Bloody right it was!" Draco cut in angrily, his level detachment falling away. "Fuck, Ginny! You throw the words at me out of nowhere and then fly out the door, what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "I don't know, Draco! Something! And, bloody hell, if you weren't going to do something that night, you could have turned up and...and said something to me yesterday instead of avoiding me all fucking day like a ten year old."

He didn't say anything, and she realized something suddenly that made her rage flare up again. "Fever and vomiting?" Ginny inquired icily. "Do you have my brothers to thank for that?"

Draco flushed, a pink stain appearing under his cheekbones, and Ginny was so taken aback to see him blushing that for a second, she lost her thread.

"I just needed some time," he muttered defensively. "I needed a way to skive off, so I mixed a bunch of the Snackboxes up and got Blaise to take me to the hospital wing. I was just going to skip the morning but the antidotes didn't work, and she wanted -"

"When I went there after dinner, you were already out," Ginny said accusingly. "And then I went to practice, and when I got back, I...I waited."

Draco was staring at her, and she felt hot tears stinging at her eyes that she didn't bother to hide. What would be the point? It wasn't as though he had never seen her at her worst before.

"Weasley, honestly." He sounded both exasperated and annoyed. "Stop crying, for Christ's sake."

Ginny rounded on him. "No," she snarled. "No! Do you know why? Because I told the person I've been sleeping with for almost a year that I love him -" Draco winced, which only fueled Ginny's rant. "- and he overdoses in order to avoid me. I think that warrants a few tears."

"Can you stop saying that?" Draco implored in an undertone between gritted teeth.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Ginny spat, leaping to her feet and promptly bursting into furious tears. Whatever hopes that she had had that Draco would hold her and apologize and soothe the raging storm of hurt inside her vanished and all she wanted to do was be alone, to consume herself in the pain of it all until it either disappeared or destroyed her. She swiped a hand angrily at her face and started back towards the castle alone.

She hadn't gone more than ten steps when she felt a hand close around her wrist.

"Let go of me," she said with a kind of trembling weariness without turning around. "Just let go. I don't want to be near you right now. I don't -"

"Will you please," Draco said irritably as he pulled her sharply around to face him, "stop making these random melodramatic proclamations and running away from me?"

"I hate you," Ginny said, glowering.

"That's not what I've heard," he shot back, and Ginny was so furious that he had just used that against her that she wrenched her hand free and pushed him as hard as she could, accomplishing nothing but a feeling that she had just attempted to bring down a stone wall with her bare hands.

She glared up at him, tears still spilling down her cheeks, and Draco glared right back down at her, frustration showing in every line of his expression. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and then, finally, she let out a muffled whimper and collapsed into him.

He caught her as though he had been waiting for her to give in. She buried her face into his chest, keeping her hands limply at her side until he sighed impatiently and pulled her arms around his neck.

"You," he muttered into her hair as her body shook in his arms, "are an absolute pain in the ass, Red."

"I don't know why I said it," Ginny mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, now soaked with her tears. "I'm such an idiot."

"Yes, you are," he said with a sigh. "Merlin, I feel like I'm in the middle of a bad daytime Muggle program."

"Why is it so bad?" she asked, turning her bloodshot eyes to meet his, which were regarding her warily. Though both of them knew that it wasn't really a question needing response...they both knew the answer.

He bent down and pressed his lips to her neck once, twice. "It's not us," he said simply, and she knew he meant it, believed it. It was that easy for him.

"Not us," Ginny repeated, and he nodded at her, tilting his head and regarding her as though she had surprised him. She raised up her hand and ran her finger along his cheek, and he kissed her hard, making her wish with her entire being that this was it, that it was over and behind them, and it meant nothing, nothing. They were...they again.

But why did it suddenly seem like what they were may not be enough?

She broke away from him suddenly. Draco looked down at her warily, as if he knew what was coming, but he made no move to derail what Ginny could foresee to be an inevitable collision. She thought about it this time, though, didn't blurt it, and weighed the consequences before letting the words out. But she had to hear the answer from him...either yes or no, no matter what, she needed to hear one or the other.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

His demeanour changed instantly; the wary uncertainty collided with startled anger until the latter settled on his face. "Weasley," he said in a low voice. "Don't."

"Do you?" Ginny persisted, and now that she had asked the question that she knew would either fix her heart or break it more, she needed to know. Whatever she tried to convince herself, the words had not been a mistake, and she needed to know if he could bring himself to say them too.

"Don't." Draco stepped away from her, his eyes flashing, and something other than the obvious anger, something that Ginny couldn't identify, lingered in his eyes. "I told you. This isn't us, Gin. This, what we are, what we do, it wasn't supposed to be...supposed to become..." He couldn't seem to formulate a conclusion to this sentence, and Ginny stared fiercely back at him, willing it to happen by some miracle, willing the words to emerge and put her pieces back together.

"Love is never 'supposed' to happen," she pointed out softly, and even as she said it, she knew she was fighting a battle that she had already lost. "Nothing is supposed to happen like that. It just does. You think I wanted this? Wanted you, for any other reason than the one that brought us together? You wanted sex and I wanted to feel something, something other than all the nothingness that was all I had, and that brought us together, because both were things that we could fix for each other."

Draco turned away, shoving his hands in his pocket and staring unseeingly at the lake next to them, something like disgust painted on his features.

Ginny felt her heart sink. She knew it then, knew that her instincts had been right. He couldn't love her, wouldn't, refused to let himself become vulnerable so such an emotion. The reality of it shook her and she closed her eyes. Somehow, it hurt even more than she had anticipated.

"I wish I didn't," Ginny told him quietly. "I wish I could take it all back. Every feeling that I had for you that made my heart ache, every time that I knew that if I didn't see your face throughout the entire day then I wouldn't be able to sleep...everything. I don't want to love you, but I do. And even though you don't want to admit it, I know that you are just being a stubborn ass, just like you always are...refusing to let anyone in, even me."

Draco didn't answer. She took a step closer to him, holding her hand out to touch his; he didn't pull away, but the expression on his face scared her so much that she folded her arms instead. "I want you," she said, one last declaration, one that she had told him so many times before in such a different context. She knew that she was just tightening the noose around her heart and that one last pull would finish it, but she couldn't leave it like this without him knowing.

"You don't know what you want," he snapped, turning to look at her, the disgust still evident. "You're ranting and raving, and Merlin knows where all this shit is coming from."

"This shit is coming from my heart, you prat, an essential organ that you seem not to possess," Ginny retorted coldly. "Why is it so hard from you? Is it -"

"This is not about my father, Weasley," Draco interjected ferociously. "This is about us, and this absurd notion that you seem to have that love -" He spoke as though the word offended him. "- has anything to do with the emotional breakdown you seem to be having. You're screaming and crying and verbally clawing my eyes out one second and then you're falling into my arms and telling me that you didn't mean to say it -"

Ginny flared up. "I never said that I didn't mean it."

"- and then you start firing these ludicrous inquiries at me, professing you...your feelings all over again, and accusing me of being heartless. Make up your bloody mind, will you?"

"You are astonishing," Ginny said, shaking her head in disgust to match his. "Utterly astonishing. Not to mention is some serious denial. And don't even give me that rubbish about this not being about your father. Of course it is! This all comes down to the way you were raised, raised to believe that to love someone is a weakness -"

"You have no idea," Draco said in a low, dangerous tone, "what it is like to feel weak."

They were both silent. Beyond the trees, Ginny could hear the front doors open and students pouring out in chattering droves, intent on basking in the weak spring sunlight now that that rain from yesterday's storm had briefly settled back into the clouds.

"What now?" she asked finally, and as he looked at her, she knew that he realized what she meant. He watched her through narrowed eyes, and just when she was about to turn away, he spoke.

"Now," he said matter-of-factly, "you are going to go inside, go back to your common room, and find your friends. You're going to spend the day as you always do, putting on that false front so that they have no idea why when you daydream, you look so unhappy. You will lie to them when they ask what's wrong, and even as you're consumed with every word you spoke to me today, and every word I said back, you will insist that you're fine. Then, tonight, when everyone is asleep, you're going to put on your dressing gown and Disillusion yourself, sneak out of the Tower and down to the Room of Requirement. You're going to find me there."

Ginny stared, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. "And then?" she asked, her voice quavering.

He looked away, his eyes on the mountains in the distance and the sun that had just risen all the way over the highest peak. "And then," Draco said, his eyes still on the sky, "we fix each other."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, to respond, but before she could form words, his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her in a way that made her think that maybe all the harsh words had been a nightmare, something insubstantial compared to this, this blissful reality that was the taste of him. When he broke away, she tried to speak again, to say what, she didn't know, but he was gone before she could, striding away across the glistening dew and towards the castle, his white blond hair shimmering in the early morning light.

It was a few minutes before she could make her feet respond. When they did she wiped her face on her hand, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and started back towards the front doors, knowing that in the common room her friends would be waiting for her...just as he had told her they would be.

He was her worst enemy, her loveless lover, the nemesis of all of her friends.He was her best friend. He knew her.

Why did he have to make it so hard for her to know him?