Love, and Other Things That Hurt

Chapter Five

"Do you know what I fucking hate?" Ginny fumed on Tuesday night as she lay sprawled on the floor of the Room of Requirement amidst stacks of notes, attempting to get some studying accomplished. This task was made difficult by the fact that she had had a very, very bad day and could not seem to stop rambling on about it.

With a sigh, Draco, who was lying across the bed with his hand over his eyes, dropped his arm and turned his head to look at her. "This should be fascinating," he said in dry amusement. "What do you fucking hate, Red?"

Ginny ignored the irony in his voice and raged on. He had asked for it. "I spend every single shred of energy I have," she growled furiously, tossing her quill aside and sitting up on her elbows to scowl at Draco, "trying to act normal, right? No matter how late I stay with you, I wake up early with a smile on my face, act like myself, laugh with my girlfriends, go to class, do my homework. I'm playing my fucking part, and what do I get in return? Suspicion!"

"Indeed?" Draco said with a perfectly straight face as though he hadn't heard this fifteen times in the last hour alone. "What injustice. However do you battle on? The frustration! The indignation!"

"And furthermore," Ginny plowed on, ignoring him, "I get absolutely no recognition. None! I am living a fucking double life and the credit I get is non-bloody-existent."
"You're an inspiration to all of us," Draco said, idly examining his well-defined abdominal muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. Ginny glared at him.
"Laugh if you will," she grumbled despite the fact that his expression had not twitched, picking up her quill again. "But this is not amusing in the least. And now on top of everything, I'm -"

She stopped. Draco sat up, regarding her through narrowed eyes. "Weasley..." he began, but Ginny pressed a hand to her mouth and Draco reacted with purposeful velocity. Rolling off of the bed, he conjured a basin out of thin air and, as Ginny leaned forward, her stomach contracting as she heaved, he had it in front of her just in time.

Ginny vomited for a good half minute, with another wave of nausea making her double over just as she thought she was done. Draco calmly kept his arm around her, the other smoothing back her loose hair from her face. When she was finished, her face bloodless and vomit on her lips, he waved his wand over the basin, the contents disappearing at once without a trace.
Mortified, Ginny raised a hand to wipe her face, but Draco intercepted. He raised his wand and swept it across the opening of her mouth, his lips moving barely perceptibly as he spoke an inaudible charm. Eyed closed, Ginny brought a hand to her face as all traces of sick vanished, feeling the inside of her mouth become as instantly clean as if she had just brushed her teeth. When she opened her eyes, she was paler than ever.

"Fuck," she whispered hoarsely, but Draco ignored this, pushing the empty basin aside and pulling her against his chest. Ginny could not understand how, but somehow he knew exactly what she needed. She felt the pressure on her stomach ease as she pressed her suddenly feverish cheek against the cool skin of Draco's neck.
"You OK?" he asked in a murmur, that question that had been pissing Ginny off so much lately. For some reason, though, in Draco's voice the question seemed significantly less irritating.
"Yeah," Ginny mumbled back, trying to dispel the flood of embarrassment that was churning in her chest. "It was worse this morning."
Ginny had been violently ill since Sunday afternoon, only adding to the concern that her friends had been feeling towards her. Linnéa declared that it was a symptom of how rundown Ginny was getting, while Harlow claimed that she must have caught it from Ron, who had also been looking peaky. Whatever the reason, Ginny had already been falling asleep in class, prompting Professor McGonagall to threaten to give her detention on the day of the Quidditch House Championship, and Ginny was not going to risk such a thing. She had refused to meet Draco the previous two evenings, citing that she would get him sick as well, but he had insisted (to put it lightly) on their rendezvous tonight. Even though he would never have said the words aloud, Ginny knew it was because he missed her, and the knowledge that he would risk getting the flu in order to spend the night with her spread warmth to her toes.

"Sorry you had to witness that," she said softly, trying to smile. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't have dinner."

"Poor indisposed Ginevra," Draco said in a despondent undertone, running his hands up and down her back. "What am I going to do with you and all your theatrics?"
"I don't know," Ginny said faintly, and she felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes. "I just don't know."
"Christ's sake, Weasley, don't tell me you're crying again," Draco said in a bored tone, threading his fingers through her hair. "I thought we had gotten past the irrational emotional breakdowns."
"Sorry," Ginny mumbled, wiping her eyes.
"Stop apologizing to me," Draco said irritably. "Get your arse into bed. You're burning up."
Ginny didn't argue. She stood and slid under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and blinking as the lamplight was suddenly extinguished.
"Draco!" she hissed when a moment passed and he had not joined her.
"Shhh!" came the reply from across the room. Ginny fell silent and listened closely. She could hear him muttering to himself. A few golden sparks tapered out of his wand every once in awhile, briefly illuminating his chiseled features before throwing the room into total darkness again.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked moodily, but he did not respond. After another five minutes, she began shivering under the blankets.
And just like that, he was at the bedside, sliding beneath the sheets and taking her into his arms. Ginny gratefully reciprocated, pulling him as tightly to her as possible. No amount of physical contact between them seemed sufficient.
"There you are," she breathed, and he kissed her.
"Here I am," he agreed. "Open up."
His fingers traced her lips and she obeyed, parting them. The warmth that touched her tongue however was not another kiss.

"Swallow," Draco commanded, and she did, feeling the tangy warm liquid slide down her throat like molten silk.
"What -" Ginny began in a whisper, but he kissed her voice away, gently running his tongue over her. When he drew back, he tipped some more of the unfamiliar broth into her mouth before she could close it and she swallowed without being told.

"Well?" he asked in a drawl.
"That's amazing," Ginny responded breathlessly. "Absolutely amazing. I'm warm all over. What is it?"
"Old family recipe," Draco said, laying the half-empty goblet aside on the nightstand and pulling Ginny on top of his chest so she was lying on him. "Our first house elf, Dobby's mother - Gabby was her name - used to take care of me essentially independently when my parents went away. She made this when I was ill and no matter what I had, it always got better right away. It doesn't have a name but she explained to me how to make it with a wand. I never...never have, though." He hesitated and Ginny frowned, brushing his blond bangs out of his eyes and searching for his gaze in the dark.
"Why not?" she asked.
Draco shrugged; the movement lifted Ginny briefly. "She died when I was nine of Spattergroit and it never seemed right."

"Oh," Ginny said. She became quiet and, after a few moments, silent teardrops fell from her closed eyes onto Draco's cheeks. He brushed them away without comment and pulled her to him until their faces were less than an inch apart.
"I love -" Ginny began quietly, and was surprised when he didn't flinch. "- this," she finished less than a beat later. "Being here with you always feels right, no matter how wrong it is."

"Mmm," he murmured, cupping her face with both hands, and she could feel his gaze penetrating her even though she could not see it. When he leaned in to kiss her she held him close to her, and the kiss seemed to send a surge of electricity through her.

"Wow," she whispered when he pulled back. "That was a really good kiss."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Draco said, laughter in his voice. "Does that mean you're wanting another?"
"Yes, please."
They snogged experimentally for another five minutes, until Ginny felt herself trembling with the adrenaline surging through her system. She rolled off of Draco and yanked her t-shirt over her head before diving back in.

Draco made an appreciative sound, tugging playfully at her bra strap. Ginny raised her eyebrows.
"Really?" she said suspiciously, sitting up. "I'm vomiting and feverish and sickly and you actually want to shag me?"

"Are you kidding?' Draco said impatiently. "I've been waiting for this for five days. Get over here."

"But this isn't right!" Ginny wailed, breaking away from his mouth less than thirty seconds later. "This is the first time I've been turned on since I started puking my guts out."

"So?" Draco said carelessly, rolling them over so that he was on top and dropping little kisses down her neck.

"So this is uncharacteristic of my present demeanor and it's making me...apprehensive," Ginny declared. "And I - hold it."

She pushed him off of her and leaned over the bed, grabbing her wand and using it to re-light the lamps. When the yellow light hit her face, she was glaring suspiciously at Draco. "That stuff you gave me!" she said accusingly. "It had something in it, didn't it? An - an aid to seduction!"

"What?" Draco barked, affronted. "You're mad. It had no such thing; a Calming Draught, Soothing Solution, a bit of essence of Starshine..."
"Well then," Ginny said with the air of being onto something. "Why do I suddenly want to rip off all my clothes and let you have your way with me?"

"Because, Weasley," Draco said patiently, rubbing her bare shoulder. "I am a sexy, attractive, smooth-talking, intelligent, well-built man and you like fucking me."

"A likely story," Ginny said huffily.

"You're right," Draco said with a shrug and an exaggerated sigh. "It was all a ploy to take advantage of your body. But you have besieged me with guilt, and now instead of taking advantage of you, I bid you goodnight." He waved his hand, plunging the room into darkness and rolling away from her in the process.

"Draco!" Ginny said, shocked. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding."

"Not in the least," came the dignified response from the far side of the bed. "See you in the morning, Red."

Three seconds later, Ginny had climbed on top of him and was kissing him furiously, her hand sliding south on his body.

"I don't think so," she growled in his ear. "Take my clothes off. Now."

"Your wish is my command," Draco said coolly and, demonstrating a talent that had always impressed Ginny, unclasped her bra with one hand.

"Mmmm," Ginny sighed in his ear as he slid off her jeans, letting his hands linger longer than necessary. She kissed his chin and pressed her hand to his crowded fly, warranting a sharp intake of breath from him.

"Shit, Weasley," he mumbled, and she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off.

Ginny was so turned on that her fever seemed to be nothing but the heat that their skin on skin was giving off. When he leaned up to graze the sensitive skin of her breast with his teeth and tongue, Ginny whimpered like a little girl. Her knickers came off and his hand pressed between her legs, and all Ginny could think was that she wanted him inside her. He was obviously going slowly on purpose, dragging it out, but her body was screaming for his and she whispered in his ear that she wanted him, needed him. Now.

She could feel that the pressure was building in Draco's erection, but he would not be hurried. It was torturous, and she slid her hand inside his waistband until she found what she was looking for.

He groaned as she pulled his boxers aside and she slid down his body, kissing down his bare chest until she was level with his hips. She could feel him watching her, waiting for the inevitable backtrack, but she didn't look up. There was no decision to be made. He had silently wanted it for months, she knew, and she wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

When she took him in her mouth, she felt him inhale sharply before falling silent. She reached up for his hand and found it clamped tightly on the top of the bed sheet. Ginny swirled her tongue slowly, her mouth moving hesitantly, and she blindly sought to loosen the grip of his hand until it uncurled, finally, and he entwined his fingers with hers. This was new, if not to him then certainly to them, and even though her mind was clouded with pleasure and lightheaded with delicious longing, Ginny felt a deliberate thrill. She had surprised him by giving something she had never been able to fathom giving before and as she reached up with her free hand and laid it on his abdomen, she could feel his heart pounding through his ribcage.

Though it was Ginny's first time, it was over more quickly than she had expected. She moved silently back up until their faces were level, brushing the tips of her fingers over her swollen lips, and he put a hand to her face as though not believing she was really there.

"Weasley." He spoke in a voice that was gruffly hoarse, faltering on the second syllable. She waited for one second, two, three, but he did not say anything else.

"I love you," she said, so much louder than the voice he had spoken in that the words rang through the room. She felt his muscles tense, felt his jaw clench so close to hers and when she smoothed a hand over his forehead, it was creased. "Why can't you just let me?"

His breathing ragged, he pulled his hands through her hair and crushed her lips to his with an almost furious intensity. She whimpered again against his mouth as his fingers dug into the skin on her back.

He turned them over so he was suspended above her, and when he slid into her it was as though he was warming her from the inside out. Ginny could feel the heat of an invisible fire crackling in her core and she sighed and kept sighing as he moved with her, thrusting until she begged him to stop, holding his hips to hers as she came to a shuddering climax. He came silently moments later and Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as though he was afraid he would disappear if she let go.

"Ginny," he whispered, and she closed her eyes, feeling tears stinging at them again. "Ginny."

He brought a hand to her cheek again and felt moisture there. "Why -" he began, sounding apprehensive, and Ginny laughed, a shaky laugh that was half a sob.

"Don't worry," she assured him, reaching up and kissing him hard. "Good tears."

"Is that so," he murmured, wiping them away with his fingers.

"Mhm," she said. "Thank you, Draco."

Pause. "For what?"

"For everything," she said, and her voice, to her, sounded strangely far away. "For putting up with me. For being there for me. For letting me yell at you and cry to you and be with you. For knowing me. For knowing who I am and still keeping me."

He turned on his side and held her close, kissing her so gently that she barely noticed when he finally pulled away. "I know you," he said quietly, and she nodded against his chest.

"Better than anyone," she said simply.

When she fell asleep in his arms minutes later, she drifted into sweet dreams.

He lay with his eyes open for hours and hours until, finally, the steady rhythm of Ginny's breathing sang him to sleep. He was pulled into a dreamless slumber, the gentle beat of her heart against his chest calming the angry torrential storm inside his own.

-

Ginny woke up the next morning to kisses being dropped across her face. She lay still for a moment, her eyes shut, and only when she couldn't stay motionless anymore did she open her eyes. Wordlessly, Draco leaned in and kissed her hard on the mouth before straightening up. He was standing beside the bed, dressed, with his wand in his back pocket.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ginny asked sleepily.

"Potions," he answered, raising one eyebrow. "Breakfast has already started."

With a groan, Ginny pulled the blankets over her head.

"Is that a negative on the getting up thing, then?" Draco asked wryly a moment later.
"Yep," Ginny said, flipping back the covers so she could see him. "Can't you just stay with me all day?" She reached out for his hand to pull him to the bed and he gave in with minimal coercion.
He kissed her slowly, his hand on her thigh, but when he pulled away Ginny knew she had lost the battle. "Fine, I'll get up," she grumbled. "Ugh."

As soon as she pulled herself vertical, an acute wave of nausea hit her, and she doubled over without a thought of warning entering her mind.

Draco silently held her as she vomited into the basin he had again conjured and when she was done, he surveyed her ashen face critically.

"Hospital wing," he said, but Ginny was already shaking her head.

"I'm fine," she insisted, leaning into him as he pressed his hand, then his lips, to her forehead. "I'm fine. And I certainly don't need to go to the hospital wing."

"I'll take you," Draco interjected, shaking his head. "No arguments."

"You don't have to do that."

There was a brief and awkward silence.

"You know," Draco said with raised eyebrows. "You don't always have to be so quick to deny the truth and push people away. It's not a crime to admit that you need something."

"Or someone?" Ginny added in a low voice, staring at him pointedly. He pretended not to hear her.

"Fine, be difficult then," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. "You'd better hurry up if you want a bath."

"Are you going to join me?" Ginny purred, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"Don't tempt me," he said gruffly. He kissed her twice more before pushing her away and striding towards the door.

"See you tonight," Ginny called with a pout. He waved a hand curtly in response and shut the door with a snap behind him.

Ginny made it to breakfast just in time to witness what she could tell, even three tables away, was a situation in which disaster was inevitable. As soon as she performed a rapid assessment of the state of affairs and established just what she had feared, Ginny cursed under her breath and sped up.

"Hey!" she chirped swiftly, sliding into the millimeter of space that existed between Linnéa, who had a sort of traumatized smile frozen on her face, and Neville, who had stopped mid-babble at Ginny's approach and dropped his hand from Linnéa's waist to stare at Ginny in puzzlement.

"Good morning," Harlow said brightly, breaking the altogether uncomfortable silence that had fallen. "You look exhilarated. Good workout?"

"You have no idea," Ginny responded with a wistful smile. Linnéa leaned forward, shot a quick look at Neville over Ginny, and immediately picked up her goblet and brought it to her lips.

Neville, on the other hand, was poking Ginny in the ribs and when she threw a wide-eyed glare at him, he desisted, looking injured.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, sounding hurt and bewildered.

"Saving you from yourself," Ginny answered through gritted teeth. "We will discuss this later."
Neville pouted all throughout the remainder of breakfast while Linnéa sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking both bemused and uncomfortable. When the Great Hall slowly began clearing of students, Ginny aimed a kick under the table at Harlow who immediately struck up a conversation with their best friend about the Transfiguration final.

Ignoring his mumble of feeble protest, Ginny seized Neville by his collar and dragged him down the Gryffindor table until they were out of earshot.

"What?" Neville said indignantly.

"What were you doing?" Ginny inquired faintly. "That certainly was not part of out technique lesson!"

"I was improvising!" Neville maintained defensively. "I was feeling confident, so -"

"Neville," Ginny said, cutting him off. "Did you at all note Linnéa's facial expression while you were molesting her?"

"It's called a caress!" Neville said hotly. "And don't tell me that girls don't like that because Dean said so." This, it seemed, made the conclusion final.

"Oh, yeah, Dean does have a legendary track record for sensuality," Ginny said sarcastically, teeth clenched again. "I don't get why you're still basing your moves on boy talk, Neville. When will you learn to just get it from the source?"
Neville blinked. "What's the source?"
Ginny stared at him. "Me, Neville. Me. I'm the source."
"Right, right," Neville said, nodding vigorously. "So I shouldn't, er...caress her then?"

"No," Ginny said fervently. "No caressing."
Neville sauntered back to the table and picked up his bag, throwing a wistful look at Linnéa who was rearranging her honey-colored ringlets in the reflection of a teaspoon.

"Bye, Neville," Ginny said cheerfully and he responded with a muttered "see you" before shuffling away.

"Why are you always yelling at him?" Harlow asked Ginny with a grin.

"I was not yelling," Ginny said, reddening. "I was vehemently telling him how lovely his new sweater looked in the Gryffindor colors."
Harlow gave her a stare that said "bullshit", but Ginny nodded towards Linnéa and they all silently headed out of the Great Hall for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Ginny!"
Ginny turned just in time for Kevin Whitby to collide with her. Rubbing her shoulder, she took in the sight of the younger boy, chest heaving and eyes wide as saucers.

"What's wrong, Kevin?" she asked in alarm. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond Dennis had joined them, hurling himself to Kevin's side and looking just as perturbed.

"It's - Colin!" Dennis panted, waving his arms wildly, and Ginny felt her stomach drop.
"What now?" she snapped, more fiercely than she had intended. Curious faces were watching them as people passed on their way to their first classes but Dennis and Kevin didn't seem to notice.

"There's - there's something wrong with him," Kevin declared shrilly. "Something -"

"- awful!" Dennis cut in.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Ginny said placidly, trying to suppress her relief that this clearly had nothing to do with her. "What sort of awful? Is he ill? Or -"

"No, no," Dennis said edgily, waving such a notion aside with his hand. "He's - he's not himself."
"Who's not?" Harlow asked interestedly, materializing at Ginny's side with Linnéa behind her.

"Colin," Kevin said, his voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "He's gone mad."

"Really?" Harlow said, sounding intrigued. "Meaning he's begun dressing like a witch and singing sonnets to Peeves?"
"Worse," Dennis confirmed in a whisper. "Even worse than that, Harmony."

Linnéa giggled. "What could be worse?"

"You don't understand!" Kevin said, his voice rising in pitch and volume so quickly that it had Professor McGonagall appearing in their midst within seconds, her mouth set in a severe line.

"Mr. Whitby, kindly refrain from shrieking in the Entrance Hall," she said irritably, and Kevin turned pink. "Now what is all this commotion about?"

"Apparently Colin has gone mad, Professor," Harlow said accommodatingly.

"I see," Professor McGonagall said, her eyebrows contracting. "In what sense?"

"In every sense," Dennis said conspiratorially, his eyes widening even further. "Professor...he's acting like Draco Malfoy."

Whatever Ginny had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

"What do you mean?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Just what I said," Dennis insisted. "Ever since Sunday, Professor. I don't know what brought it on, but he's been acting just -"
"What is this rubbish?" Professor McGonagall interrupted in an ill-tempered fashion, her eyebrows becoming one rigorous line. "Mr. Creevy, if your brother is ill, I suggest you accompany him up to the hospital wing. If you have other complaints of his behavior, I must insist that you deal with them in a mature fashion that I would expect from a fourth year Hogwarts student. And you, Miss Weasley..." She looked down the bridge of her nose at Ginny. "You would do well to spend your leisure time catching up on Transfiguration work you've been sacrificing in the name of your in-class naps, rather than getting in the midst of such futile theatrics."

With one last look of disapproval at the group, she swept away towards the staircase. Dennis watched her leave, the looked back at Ginny, his eyes over bright. "You have to believe me, Ginny," he said in desperation. "It's not...normal!"

"Sure doesn't sound like it," Harlow said with a snort. "Why is he acting like Draco Malfoy of all people anyway?"

"Something to do with a...an increase in sex appeal?" Kevin said tentatively. "Yeah. I think that's what he said."
Even through Ginny's horror, she felt a twinge of amusement.

"Malfoy's sex appeal is nil without the smoking hot body," Harlow pointed out. "It's part of the package."

"And anyway, there's nothing sexy about someone who is insensitive, irritable, snobbish, self-absorbed and conceited," Linnéa added sanctimoniously.

"True," Harlow agreed.

"Not necessarily," Ginny contributed before she could stop herself. The other four stared at her.

"So, Dennis," she said quickly, turning to the fourth year Gryffindor boy. "What exactly did you want me to do about it anyway?"
Dennis looked sheepish. "Well..." he began, glancing over at Kevin who looked equally shamefaced. "We were just...you know, we just figured..."

"Spit it out," Ginny demanded peevishly.

"Well, we though that you of all people would be able to talk some sense into him," Kevin said bravely, looking defiantly into Ginny's face. "After all...well, he likes you."
"And what difference does that make?" Ginny grumbled. "I am not in any way involved in this."

"She's right, Kevin," Linnéa said gently. "I'm sure Colin's just going through a phase. And who's to say this has anything to do with Draco Malfoy anyway? There are plenty of malevolent, supercilious jerk-offs he could be modeling his behavior after."

Harlow goggled at her. "I cannot believe you just said 'jerk-off'."

"Listen, guys," Ginny intervened with a congenial smile, already moving pointedly towards the staircase. "This is all very fascinating and tragic and all that, but we really need to get going."

"You'll see!" Dennis insisted crossly as Ginny pulled Harlow and Linnéa along with her by their sleeves. "You'll see for yourself...and then you'll believe us!"

It was only when Ginny arrived at the doorway to the Transfiguration classroom did she realize that she didn't have her books. As such, she was nearly fifteen minutes late when she finally emerged into the room, red-faced and out of breath.

"Sorry, Professor," she said in an undertone as she tiptoed shame-facedly towards her seat while the whole class watched her. "I just forgot -"

"Forgot your common sense?" McGonagall cut in sharply. "Miss Weasley, you are beginning to get on my last nerve."
"I understand, Professor," Ginny said, ignoring the people snickering in the front row.

"And you are already on thin ice with me as it is," McGonagall continued, staring with hawk-like intensity at Ginny. "I expect you to take a good look at your behavior and adjust it accordingly if you wish to play in the Quidditch House Cup final this Saturday."

There was a momentary silence, during which Ginny established that Professor McGonagall was waiting for her to speak.

"Right," Ginny said a little over-brightly. "Right. Yes, Professor. I will."

Disregarding the titters from several classmates, Ginny traipsed down the aisle and squeezed past several people to the only available seat, which was beside Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Ginny," Luna said placidly, sliding her notes which the class had just been copying down onto Ginny's desk as she, Ginny, rummaged through her bag, cheeks still slightly flushed. "You look ever so flustered. Are you alright?"

"I'm wonderful," Ginny said in a slightly breathless voice, uncapping her inkpot and nearly knocking it over in her haste to retrieve her quill from where it had fallen under her desk. "I'm superb. Thanks so much, Luna. Hi, Colin!" she added cheerfully as she realized who was seated to her immediate right. "How are you?"

It took a moment for Colin to look up, as he appeared to be completely concentrating on the perfect transcription of notes onto the parchment in front of him. When he finally did, Ginny was taken aback by the expression on his face."

"Weasley," he said shortly, nodding stiffly in Ginny's direction before turning coolly away again.

Several seconds passed in shocked silence from Ginny as she stared at Colin, who was looking straight ahead and apparently listening intently Professor McGonagall, who was giving a telling-off to a Ravenclaw boy in the front for using sparks from his wand to light the plait of the girl in front of him on fire. Ginny glanced over her shoulder at Luna who was gazing meditatively at the ceiling with her hands folded on her desk and then back at Colin, who had an artful grimace on his face.

"Sorry?" Ginny said finally. She was not able to think of anything else to say and refused to fall into defeated silence.

The look that he cast upon her next was clearly supposed to be contemptuous, but on Colin's round wide-eyed face it simply looked bewildered. Ginny let out a half-muffled hysterical giggle at the surrealism of it all, the sound of which rang through the sudden quiet of the class as everyone conveniently chose that moment to fall silent. Everyone abruptly turned to stare at Ginny, including Professor McGonagall, whose birdlike stare was scorching as it found Ginny's guilty face.

"Something amusing to share with us, Miss Weasley?" Professor McGonagall said icily.
From the corner of her eye Ginny saw Harlow, who was sitting a few rows away, slap herself on the forehead, shaking her head. Linnéa, sitting next to Harlow, looked torn between horror, sympathy and exasperation.

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny said with the air of a toddler who had been caught nicking cookies after having just been told-off for the twelfth time. "I just had a silly moment."

The class sniggered. Professor McGonagall looked ready to start breathing flame.

"You seem to have a specialty for disrupting the class, Ginevra," she said between gritted teeth. "Maybe you would like to spend this coming evening polishing your ability to stay on task with a nice detention."

"What?" Ginny squeaked with a sound like a mouse that had just been trodden on. "No! I mean...Professor, does it...have to be tonight?"

She didn't want to think about what Draco would have to say about yet another bail-out, especially after the incredible night they had just had. She didn't want anything to get in the way of that.

"I'm quite certain we could make an arrangement," Professor McGonagall said coolly. "Does this Saturday work for you?"

Ginny knew she had no choice. It was either miss out on one night with Draco or miss out on the Quidditch final."

"I'll be there this evening," she muttered, and Professor McGonagall glared exultantly at her before sweeping off back towards the blackboard and resuming the lesson.

Ginny scowled sideways at Colin who had a very determined artificial smirk plastered over the guilt on his face. "What the bloody hell is your problem?" she demanded in a hiss. For a moment he looked like he was about to respond reflexively, but seemed to remember the persona he was currently embracing and instead turned away as though she had not spoken.

Fuming and reeling with a fresh surge of nausea, Ginny stalked out of the class as soon as the bell rang, leaving behind half her books in her rage and making it to the bathroom just in time. By the time Linnéa and Harlow caught up to her, she was sitting on the cold tiled floor with her hands against her feverish forehead.

"Ginny?" Linnéa said anxiously, knocking tentatively on the locked stall door, Ginny's books in her arms. "Ginny? Ginny, sweetie, are you alright?"

The response she received consisted of heaving and retching, followed by a hacking cough. Linnéa turned her worried eyes upon Harlow, who looked equally uneasy.

After a few more moments, Ginny emerged from the stall, her face ashen. "I'm OK," she said hoarsely, letting Linnéa hurry over and fuss over her appearance. "Really. I guess that's why I've been irritable this morning...I'm just feeling a little ill."

"Here," Harlow said concernedly, reaching into her own bag and withdrawing a purple chew from an inside pocket. "Eat this, Gin. You look terrible."

"And you're burning up," Linnéa added, sounding on the edge of panic as Ginny popped the sweet into her mouth, looking queasy. "Ginny, you're ever so tired these days and you never seem to sleep."

"Ron got ill last week, remember?" Harlow pointed out, reaching forward and brushing some hair out of Ginny's face. "He went straight to the hospital wing like a normal person and got an antidote and now he's fine. Why are you being so stubborn? You've been looking peaky for the last little while."

"For heaven's sake, I don't need an antidote," Ginny said crossly. "I hate being in the bloody hospital wing and I'm not going until I'm on my deathbed."

She sauntered out of the bathroom with her friends on her tail, both still making it very clear that she was being stupid.

"Just leave me alone, alright?" Ginny snapped finally, spinning around to face them. "I told you I'm fine and I'm fine. I can wait out a fever and a bit of vomiting, there's no need to make a fuss."

"You've been losing weight!" Linnéa burst out, clearly unable to stop herself. "Ginny, we can't just stand back and let you -"

"Well then," Ginny said furiously, pulling her bag higher onto her shoulder and refusing to meet Harlow's stony gaze. "I guess you're going to have to force yourself to."

And she hurried down the corridor, pushing past the droves of students heading chattily towards their classes, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. She was horribly aware, as she disappeared around the corner, that her two best friends were not coming after her.

You don't always have to be so quick to deny the truth and push people away.

All sorts of truths had been surfacing in the past few weeks, and never before had the idea crossed Ginny's preoccupied and exhausted mind that maybe, just maybe, Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one who was scared.