Where the Wild Things Are

Where the Wild Things Are

Chapter 2

Meals became hurried affairs during the days of the Career Fair; everyone was anxious to finish up and get to their next session.

After breakfast on the fourth day of the fair, everyone got up from the table and headed together, as was now custom, into the Entrance Hall before parting ways. Harry assumed that they were all, with the exception of Hermione, going to Oliver Wood's Quidditch session on the Pitch, and so he was somewhat surprised when Ron broke off from the others.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. "Aren't you coming to the Pitch?"

Hermione looked at Ron with raised eyebrows; she had obviously made the same assumption as Harry.

Ron's ears went slightly pink and he looked away. "No, I don't think so," he said quietly. "I'm going to a session in Binns's room."

"But, I thought you wanted to--" Harry started, but was cut off by Hermione.

"He doesn't have to go, Harry. It's okay," she said softly, giving him a look that very plainly said, 'leave it'.

Harry looked at Ron, who was refusing to meet his gaze and looking very pink.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said at his elbow. "We're going to miss the start of the session."

"Go on," said Ron. "I'll see you guys at dinner." He then turned and headed off for the stairs.

Harry turned to Hermione. "What was that about?" he asked.

Hermione looked away from him and watched Ron leave. "He told me last night that he really wanted to go to the session on Magical Transportation. That's in the History of Magic classroom."

"Yeah, but what about Oliver's--"

Hermione turned to face him, but Harry noticed she didn't quite meet his eye. "What's the big deal, Harry? So he doesn't want to go to the session. Not everyone's as nuts as you are about Quidditch. Anyway, you guys had better get going. You're going to be late, and so am I. I've got a session in the Charms classroom and that's on the other side of the castle. I'll see you at dinner," she said. With that she turned and walked out the same way Ron had left.

"What's up with them?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. "Got me. She's right though, we're going to be late. Come on."

* * *

Ron slowly climbed the last steps of the Astronomy Tower, pushed open the door and stepped out into the open air. He looked around, making sure he was alone, then crossed to the opposite side and sat down on the bench. The Astronomy Tower was the favourite spot of students who wished to meet their sweethearts secretly at night, and thus, Ron had hardly ever been up here outside of classes. However, from this side of the tower he had a perfect view of the Quidditch Pitch where Oliver was just starting his session. He could just barely make out Harry, his glasses glinting in the rare December sun, and Ginny, who's bright hair looked almost like fire in the morning light. He assumed that the figure next to her was Dean, though it was hard to tell him apart from the other Gryffindor team members who surrounded Harry, their team captain. Not far off from them, Ron recognized the Slytherin team, with Malfoy at its heart, easily identifiable by his white-blonde hair.

The crowd around Oliver (mostly girls,) was quite substantial, and Harry's group had been pushed to the back. Ron leaned forward, noticing that a slight situation seemed to be arising between the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams. Or, at least, between Ginny and Malfoy. They were standing opposite one another, their respective teams behind them, and seemed to be arguing about something. After a minute, Ginny turned and stormed to the opposite side of the crowd.

Ron sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the biting winter wind across his face and allowing himself to fall into misery and insecurity. It would have been fun to be down there with the other team members, to see Oliver Wood again and hear what it was like being on a national Quidditch team. But Ron knew they'd be doing demonstrations, and would probably have a game, and he just couldn't take that. He'd spent his whole life being compared to everyone he cared about. To his brothers, his best friend, his... whatever Hermione was. He'd never been better than anyone at anything. Sure, he'd made the Quidditch team, but he knew that was only because Harry was on the team. And this year, Harry had been made Team Captain, on top of everything else. Ron was certain that Harry only let him stay on the team because they were friends. He was a rubbish Keeper. He couldn't display that in front of Oliver, who'd been one of Gryffindor's best Keepers in two centuries.

"Nice view up here, isn't it?"

Ron almost fell off the bench as he whipped round to see Hermione standing framed in the doorway. Her book bag was over one shoulder and her hair was pulled back in a ragged ponytail. At least twenty questions rose in his mind, and it was a moment before he could get even one of them out.

"Wh--what? How'd you know I'd be here?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "It's the best view of the Quidditch Pitch." She shut the door and crossed to the bench, where she dropped her book bag and sat down. She looked out across the Pitch for a moment before adding, "Plus, I followed you."

Ron sighed and looked away. "Well, you shouldn't have. You're missing your Charms session."

"There isn't a Charms session," she said simply. "Just like there's no session in Binns's classroom." She turned to him and grinned again. "Really, Ron, if you're going to lie about your session schedule, you should know better than to do it in front of the person who's got them all memorized."

Despite his attempts to look annoyed, his lips curved into a small smile. "Thanks. I'll remember that."

A moment of silence followed this, and they sat comfortably side by side, staring out across the Quidditch Pitch.

"So?" Hermione said finally. "Having a good brood, are you?"

Ron's amusement quickly faded and he stood up, resting his arms on the parapet and staring out across the grounds. "Oh, sod off, Hermione. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do," she said. "You're feeling inferior to Harry and the other team members, jealous and overshadowed, and you don't want to display what you think are bad Quidditch skills in front of Oliver. Am I warm?"

Ron faltered for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You know, your insightfulness is buggering inconvenient sometimes."

Hermione got up and came to stand next to him. "Why?" she asked, turning around to lean her back against the wall. "Would it be so terrible if I knew how you felt for a change?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you always know how I feel. You always know how everyone feels. It's kind of creepy actually."

Hermione looked away now and began carefully studying her hands. "That's not true ..."

"Okay, fine, maybe you don't always know how everyone feels. I suppose the Bloody Baron's got everyone stumped on his feelings. But for the most part--"

"I mean I don't always know how you feel," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"You knew I'd be here, didn't you?"

"Ron, that's not what I'm talking about..."

Ron let out a sigh of frustration. "Well then, what are you talking about Hermione? You can't expect me to figure these things out if you don't bloody well tell me, I'm not psychic, and I'm not a girl, so why don't you just--"

"Guh!" she exclaimed, and stamped her foot against the stone. "You are so stupid! Why can't you ever just be positive, or believe in yourself? Why can't you ever talk seriously about something without getting mad?"

"I can!" shouted Ron, his insecurity flaring into anger. "I'm not the one who can't just say what she means! And anyway, you're the one who started this stupid fight! Is that why you came up here?"

Tears were starting to well up in Hermione's eyes. "I didn't come here to fight! I just came up here to cheer you up and to tell you that... I don't even know! God, I don't even know why I came up here."

"Well, why don't you leave then?"

"Because I want to be with you!" she yelled. She covered her mouth with her hands, as though she'd said something terrible and turned away. "Fine," she mumbled, grabbing her bag and slinging it round her shoulder. "Fine, I'm leaving..."

She ran to the door, yanked it open and stormed through it.

"Damn," Ron muttered, and ran after her down the tower steps. "Hermione, wait!"

She stopped, but didn't turn. "For what?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Ron opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He'd followed and called out to her without any thought for what he'd say if she actually stopped. "I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know... just... just wait."

Hermione sighed, dropped her book bag and sank down on the steps. Tears were running down her face, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

Ron sat down next to her. After a very awkward moment of silence he said, "I'm sorry." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Hermione sighed again. "Me too."

"I'm just..." he trailed off. God, she wanted him to talk about his feelings, he knew that. But how? How the hell was he supposed to tell her these things? About how he was jealous of Harry's wealth and luck and fame, Harry, who was supposed to be his best friend. Or how he'd always wished he could prove Hermione wrong in something, or beat her in one, just one test. Or how when he'd seen her with Krum in fourth year he'd thought his insides had shriveled up and his heart had stopped beating. How could she expect him to actually say those things?

"I just... I always say the wrong thing around you..."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah..."

Ron laughed, more out of nerves than actual amusement. "You're not supposed to agree with me, Hermione."

"Why not? It's true," she said simply.

Ron turned to look at her. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes were red and puffy and her hair had come loose in the wind.

"You look really beautiful," he said, feeling his stomach turn over. Did he really just say that?

Hermione turned fuchsia, suddenly aware of her appearance it seemed. She wiped her face dry, then pulled the elastic out of her hair, combed her fingers through it and started to tie it back again.

Without thinking, Ron reached out and grabbed her hand. "Leave it down," he said. Why, why did his hands have to shake when he was nervous? And really, what was he so scared of? I mean, if she was going to turn into a banshee, rip out his heart, feed it to the thestrals and light him on fire, she'd probably have done it by now, wouldn't she? But he couldn't stop shaking. God, he was terrified.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

Ron hesitated. What was she expecting? Oh God, what should he do? "Uhh..." he stuttered. "Um, I... 'Well' what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Are you going to bloody well kiss me or not?"

Ron was taken aback. Whatever he was expecting her to say, it certainly wasn't that. But then, now he thought of it, that really was the logical course of action. It couldn't be that hard, could it? I mean, Harry'd done it once, and he'd survived. What had Harry told him about it? 'Wet' he'd said. He'd said it had been wet. Wet? Oh bugger this; he really had no idea what he was doing. He turned away.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Ron," Hermione said with a sigh, and grabbed his tie, pulling him toward her.

And before he could do or say anything, she was kissing him. Ron's stomach flipped over again, and he thought for one horrifying moment that he might be sick. But then he felt her mouth smile against his, and she giggled, and suddenly he wasn't afraid any more. Instincts he never knew he had took over, and he slid his arms around her, pulling her against him.

God, this was wonderful. What the hell had taken him so long to do this? He couldn't even remember what he'd been afraid of, or how exactly they'd gotten here, or even where 'here' was. The only thing he was even remotely aware of was Hermione and her lips on his. It was amazing how she seemed to fit perfectly in his arms.

A laugh escaped her throat, and he paused, unsure if maybe she was laughing at him. But she kissed him again, smiling. Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled herself into his lap. Her fingers combed through his hair, ran down his neck, brushed against he cheeks. He ran his hands down her back and felt her shiver. Soon they were gasping for breath, but the more Ron pulled away from her, the less he felt he could breathe. He pulled her closer, if that was possible, as if she were the only source of air.

"Ron," she whispered into his mouth.

"Hermione," he said back, assuming that was the correct response, and kissed her again.

"No, Ron," she gasped. "Ron, we have to stop..."

That seemed impossible somehow. "What is it?" he murmured.

"No, it's just," she said, kissing him again, seemingly unable to stop either. "It's just... I'm afraid we're going to fall down the stairs..."

Ron pulled back at this and looked around. Indeed, they were half lying down in a stairwell, and only now did Ron feel the stone steps cutting into his back.

"How'd we get here?" he asked, bemused.

Hermione giggled. "The Astronomy Tower, remember?"

"Oh yeah..."

Hermione rolled off him and he sat up, laughing.

"I suppose we've got to be getting back," Ron said. "What time is it, do you think?"

Hermione didn't even look at her watch. "We have time."

Ron smiled.

Hermione sighed happily and leaned against him, and he put his arm around her. It was funny how the idea of doing that used to terrify him. They sat like that in silence for several minutes before Hermione murmured his name softly.

"Hm," he answered.

"Tell me this isn't a dream."

Ron thought about it. To be honest, he wasn't certain it wasn't a dream. He'd had several that had gone very much like this, though Hermione had usually been more scantily clad, and they'd never taken place in the staircase of the Astronomy Tower.

"If it is," he answered, "I'm not waking up."

* * *

When Draco arrived on the Quidditch pitch, he saw that a large group of people were already there, most of them girls. He didn't understand what all this fuss over Oliver Wood was about; Draco thought he was just another Gryffindor pansy, and a complete tosser to boot. He seemed to be in the minority though. Even Goyle had a Witch Weekly pinup of Wood hidden under his bed.

Draco sighed and went to join his Slytherin teammates at the edge of the crowd. He scanned the crowd, keeping a lookout for Potter and his gang. He noticed a few members of the Gryffindor team standing only a few feet away, but Potter didn't seem to be there yet.

As his father had instructed, Draco had kept a close eye on where Potter and his various groupies went. It was tedious and degrading, but he still preferred it to the alternative, which involved telling his father that he really had no idea (and nor did he care) what the hell Potter had been up to. He'd considered all the possible reactions this could get from his father. None of them had been pleasant, and most of them resulted in losing the use of at least one body part (if not more) for longer than he could go without. So, he'd managed a look at Potter's session schedule at breakfast on the first day of the Fair. He went himself to all the ones he could stomach, and sent Pansy (with many protests) to the ones he couldn't.

A sunny laughter caught his attention, and Draco saw that Potter was arriving. Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas accompanied him. It was Ginny who was laughing. She had jumped on Dean's back and he was attempting to carry her across the pitch to join their Gryffindor teammates. After a moment Ginny caught sight of Draco, and instantly her smile faded. She turned red and fell to the ground in an undignified heap.

The other Slytherin team members, who had also been watching, erupted into laughter, and Draco grinned.

"Graceful, Weasley, really," he called out to her. Perhaps this session wouldn't be so boring after all. "You should try that in the next match, the drop from your broom would really improve your looks!"

Potter and Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell bent down to help Ginny up. She had turned bright red and was hastily brushing dirt off her robes.

Dean pulled out his wand. "Take that back, Malfoy."

Ginny stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Dean, forget it."

"I'm not going to forget it Ginny," Dean was saying, gritting his teeth. "He insulted you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't defend you?"

"You're kidding," came Pansy's voice from behind Draco. Draco turned to see her approaching. She slipped her hand into his, and grinned nastily at Ginny. "Someone's going out with that?"

Draco noticed that Ginny's gaze rested for a moment on Pansy's hand in his before turning away and looking at Dean.

"It's fine, Dean, I don't care," she said.

Dean looked unhappy, but lowered his wand. "I don't know what you're smirking about, Malfoy," he said. "At least my girlfriend doesn't charge hourly rates."

Pansy gasped and looked at Draco expectantly, perhaps hoping he would jump to her defense as Dean had done for Ginny.

Draco looked Ginny up and down. "My girlfriend may be a tart, Thomas," Draco could feel Pansy's glare beside him, "but at least she's a sexy tart, which is more than I can say for your red-headed whore here."

The effect of this statement was instantaneous. Katie gasped and shrieked "How dare you!?" The boys all stepped forward, and Potter pulled his wand out from his robes.

Ginny's hand dropped from Dean's side and she stared at Draco lividly. Tears had leapt to her eyes and she had gone extremely red again.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she said quietly.

Draco grinned, knowing he'd probably get hexed into oblivion tonight for what he was about to say. "Sorry, Weasley, that's Pansy's job."

Ginny quickly turned away to hide the tears that had splashed down her face. Wordless and glowing red, she picked up her book bag and stormed away to the opposite side of the crowd.

"What's going on back there?" called Wood, and all the Gryffindor boys looked at each other, then glared at Draco, before putting their wands away and muttering under their breath.

"You're going pay for this, Malfoy," Draco heard Potter say quietly before he moved away with the rest of his Gryffindor teammates.

"Draco," Pansy hissed angrily, "how dare you insult me in front of Potter and his gang! You should have hexed Thomas into pieces for what he said, not agree with him about..."

Pansy continued ranting at him for the rest of the session; but Draco didn't hear much of it, he was watching Ginny. She had dropped her book bag on the grass beside her and was standing with her arms crossed, staring firmly at the ground. Every now and then she would look up at him, see that he was watching her, and look away quickly.

He looked her over. Her figure was light and pleasing; generally big and small in the right places. The blush that was spread over her features really quite became her. Her hands were small and delicate, but if her spell-work was any indication (Draco still cringed to remember her bat-bogey hex,) they were definitely capable of real strength, which was an asset in more than one circumstance. Her eyes, brimming with tears, were a pleasant shade of brown. Her nose and cheeks were dotted with several small freckles, which wasn't a look Draco usually preferred, but seemed to suit Ginny well enough. Her classically 'Weasley' red hair, which he had been trained to revile, shone brilliantly in the sunlight and suited her better than all the other Weasleys combined.

So, Draco thought, the Weasley girl has a crush on me. Not that it was terribly surprising, most of the girls in the school had crushes on him, especially the younger ones, and he couldn't say he really blamed them. But a Weasley? Not a crush Draco had been looking for, by any stretch of the imagination. Still, definitely one he could make use of.

Draco thought over her behavior towards him over the last four years. She'd never treated him with anything but contempt and revulsion, and he'd never given her a reason for that to change. Her signals and body language now spoke pretty clearly though; something had changed.

He supposed it made a strange kind of sense. People always said there was a fine line between love and hate.

* * *

By the time Ginny sat down to lunch, she had managed to convince Harry and Dean that she was all right, that Draco hadn't really gotten to her. It was, of course, a flat out lie. She'd smiled a lot and kissed Dean, and that seemed to be good enough for him. Harry had been a harder sell; she'd always been wretched at hiding her feelings from him. Eventually, though, after an extremely winning smile and a well-placed joke about Malfoy's idiocy, Harry'd bought it. Now she just had to keep them from talking about it in front of Hermione, who would be sure to catch on that something was amiss. The last thing Ginny needed was for anyone to find out about her feelings for Draco. Not that she had any feelings for Draco, of course.

"You know," Harry was saying, "you really should have let me and Dean turn him into a ferret for you."

"Yeah," Dean put in, "like Moody, or the Moody impostor, I mean. Like he did in fourth year. I mean, you should have at least let me hit him."

"Hit who?" asked Ron, who had just arrived with Hermione. They both sat down next to Harry, and Ron started pouring Hermione a glass of pumpkin juice.

"No one, it's not important," Ginny said quickly. "How was your session, Ron?"

To Ginny's surprise, Ron grinned, glancing quickly at Hermione, and went slightly pink around the ears. "It was... good."

Hermione was also blushing, and Ginny noticed that both she and Ron's ties were rather loosened. Ginny fought back a laugh. About bloody time.

"So," she said conversationally, "you two finally stopped fighting the inevitable and got together, did you?"

Harry looked quickly from Ginny to Ron and Hermione, who had gone from a little flushed to bright red. "What?" he said. "Really?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly and Ron started stammering something unintelligible.

Dean laughed. "Well, about time. You know," he leaned across the table to Ron, "if you guys want to find a closet to go make out in, Ginny and I could recommend a few good ones."

Ron sprayed the gulp of juice he had been drinking across the table. "What?!" He looked at Ginny. "You-, you guys-...my sister-, in a closet?!"

Ginny smacked Dean on the arm. "Of course not, Ron. Dean, don't be disgusting. Like I'd ever do something like that." Ron looked relieved and started in on his pie. Ginny kept a straight face as she added, "Closets are too dusty."

Ron choked on his pie.

"Oh, leave off him, Ginny," said Hermione. She looked at Harry, who had become rather quiet. "Harry? Are you... are you okay with this?"

Harry looked up at both she and Ron, who were looking at him nervously. He smiled brightly at them. "Of course, I am. I'm happy for you guys! About time, really. At least you two will stop fighting now."

Well now, Ginny thought, that's odd. One of the pluses of having been in love with Harry for three years was that, having been so attuned to his every move, she could almost always tell when he was lying. But why should Harry have a problem with Ron and Hermione? Ginny had spent the better part of her crush years trying to figure out if Harry had feelings for Hermione, and came to the conclusion that, while he certainly liked her very much, there wasn't anything beyond friendship in his feelings.

Ginny looked at Hermione to see if she'd picked up on Harry's discomfort, as she was usually the first to notice these things, but Hermione was busy grinning at Ron, and Ron back at her.

Dean made a retching noise into his hand. "I don't know, Harry," he said. "Between constant fighting and the googly eyes they're making at each other, I think I'll take the fighting."

* * *

That night Ginny hurried back from the library toward Gryffindor Tower. The lights in the hallway had dimmed and she realized it was well past curfew. She sped up, thinking that it would fit perfectly with her wretched day if Filch caught her out after curfew and gave her detention. Filch had reached new levels of vindictiveness after Umbridge's departure from the school, and no one was certain he would obey Dumbledore's order that students were not to be whipped.

She stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait and stared up at it. It was empty. The Fat Lady had apparently gone on one of her nighttime strolls, leaving her locked out of the Tower until she returned. Great, Ginny thought. She dropped her book bag and sat down in front the portrait, settling down to wait for the Fat Lady's return.

She'd spent the evening studying for her OWLs in hopes that it would distract her. She'd managed to distract herself briefly at lunch, with Ron and Hermione's announcement. But after that she'd had a free afternoon and nothing to keep her mind off the things Draco had said to her on the Quidditch Pitch. She'd dwelt on them all afternoon and evening; Draco's contempt and disgust had played over and over in her mind, and she now felt thoroughly miserable. She berated herself for letting him get to her, for allowing herself to feel so hurt by his obvious disdain for her.

'That's more than I can say for your red-headed whore here...'

She sighed, trying to push back the angry mix of emotions stirring up once more inside her.

"You're being stupid, Ginny," she said out loud to herself.

"Yeah, but that's not new," came a cold, drawling voice from behind her. Ginny whipped around to see Draco himself standing in the corridor behind her, leaning comfortably against the wall.

Ginny felt the blood leap to her cheeks, and she thanked heaven that it was dark in the corridor. She fumbled to get up, slinging her book-bag back over her shoulder.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? And how'd you find this portrait?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I followed you." He looked entirely unembarrassed by this, cocky even. He had complete control of the situation, and he knew it.

Oh, how she wished that she didn't find that sexy. What was it with her and dangerous Slytherins?

"Why?" she asked. "Think of something else really hurtful to say to me, did you?"

He smiled at her, and Ginny cursed her knees for weakening. His smile was awfully cute-- No. It's not cute, she told herself firmly. It's annoying. I'm annoyed.

"Hurtful? Weasley, I didn't think you cared what I thought..."

Ginny's blush deepened. "I don't care..."

"Right," he said, smiling. "That's why you're blushing, I assume."

Ginny scowled at him. "If you're here to put a hex on me or beat me up or something, then get on with it, Malfoy. You're wasting my time."

"Beat you up?" He seemed genuinely confused. "Why on earth would I follow you all the way up here for that? I mean, sure, it'd be funny I guess, but hardly worth getting snagged by Filch."

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes in disgust. She pushed past him and headed back down the corridor, figuring that if Filch caught her, at least he'd catch Malfoy too. He followed her, keeping pace at her side. She couldn't decide if she was annoyed or excited.

"Oh, come on now, I came up here for a reason."

Ginny didn't stop walking, or even look at him. She turned down another corridor and continued on. "A reason? Really? You mean a reason besides making a thorough nuisance of yourself? Because you're doing a great job of that."

"Come on, Weasley. I came here to talk to you."

As much as her teenage hormones were enjoying his proximity and attention, the small objective and sensible part of her brain was screaming out warning signals. When had Draco ever spoken to her like this? No, something was up. She stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "So? Talk."

"What, here?" he looked around at this, "We'll get caught by Filch."

Ginny stood her ground. "I don't care. I'm not going anywhere with you, Malfoy."

Draco took a step toward her. "Look, Weasley. I realize the idea of us getting caught out here and having to serve detention alone together makes you hot, but I don't particularly--"

Ginny clenched her fists, fighting against the urge to hit him. "Sod off, Malfoy!" She turned on her heel and started back the way they'd come, but was brought up short by Mrs. Norris, who was standing in her path.

"Meow!" said Mrs. Norris loudly.

"What is it, my sweet?" came Filch's voice suddenly from a nearby adjoining corridor. "I'm coming!"

"Shit!" Ginny gasped.

"Come on!" Draco hissed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hallway, and Ginny was too panicked to resist. They turned down the next corridor and ran for the nearest door, which Draco ripped open and shoved her into, closing it behind him.

Upon going through the door, Ginny immediately tripped over a pile of brooms and went careening into a shelf of cleaning potions. They were in a broom closet. When Draco shut the door, they were in total darkness. She reached up tentatively and took hold of the shelf, trying to pull herself to a standing position. Her hands brushed several bottles on the shelf, two of which toppled and hit her on the head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "Where's my wand? Lumos." A dim light appeared, shining through the cloth of her bag, which was on the floor behind Draco.

"Be quiet," whispered Draco. "And put that out, do you want us to get caught? Nox." The light went out.

"I'm trying--" she whispered back, "to stand up. I'm falling over."

After a second of silence she felt Draco standing over her. He took her by the arms and pulled her to her feet, then pushed her backwards and pinned her against the wall.

"Hey, let me go--"

"Shh!" he said quickly, and covered her mouth with his hand. After a second, Ginny could hear footsteps in the corridor outside.

"Where did they go, my sweet?" came Filch's oily voice from just outside the door.

Ginny felt Draco's grip on her arm tighten, as if he were willing her to stay silent. Like she needed telling. After several long moments, Ginny could hear Filch moving on down the corridor until his footsteps died away.

And still Draco didn't move. Ginny's heart was racing, and she tried desperately to think of something besides how close he was. His face was inches from her own, and she could feel his breath against her cheeks.

No, she thought. No, I'm going out with Dean. She tried to shake herself free from his grip, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Let me go, Draco. Lumos." Her wand lit from behind them, filling the closet with a dim light.

Draco let his hands drop and he stepped back slightly. "'Draco'?"

Ginny felt herself blush (she was doing that a lot today) and tried to push past him. "What, that's your name, isn't it? Would you prefer I call you something else? 'Cause I've a few names that might suit you."

Draco stepped in front of her, blocking her way to the door. "No, it's just... You never say my first name... I like it."

Ginny stopped and stared at him, unsure she'd heard him correctly. He stepped toward her and Ginny felt her heart speed up again. A small voice at the back of her head was screaming at her, telling her that this didn't make any sense. Draco never behaved or spoke like this; he only ever treated her, and the rest of her friends and Gryffindor students, with contempt and ridicule. The voice cried for her to get her things and leave. But the longer she stood there, the less she could hear it.

Draco reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. He leaned toward her, and Ginny thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.

"Say it again," Draco whispered.

No. No. Tell him you're going out with Dean. Tell him you can't stand the sight of him and you wish he'd never been born.

She shook her head, planning to tell him to leave her alone. "Draco--" she started, but didn't get any further than that. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his.

For a moment Ginny's mind was wiped completely blank of anything but Draco, and she couldn't move. Never in her life had she been kissed like this. Michael had rarely kissed her at all, and when he had it had always been quick and nervous. Dean was always sweet and gentle, almost shy.

The only person who'd ever made her feel like this was Tom, when he had emerged from the Diary. It was draining, painful, intoxicating. Every inch of her body was on fire. Draco took a firm hold of her shoulders and pulled her closer. She couldn't move. She couldn't even think. He was crushing her mouth with his own, his fingers digging into her arms so hard that she was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow. He stepped forward, backing her into the corner, and she leaned gratefully against the wall, unable to hold herself up. He folded his arms tightly around her body, closing her off from the rest of world. He was hurting her. She knew she should make him stop. She also knew that she didn't want him to.

She couldn't breathe. She tried to pull away from him, gasping for air, but he wouldn't let her. He just held her more tightly, pressing her hard against the wall with his body. Her mind became fuzzy, her vision blurred. She needed oxygen, but she didn't want it. She was drowning in fire, and she didn't want to stop. She wanted to die here.

"Ginny," Draco whispered into her mouth, and something in his voice sounded chillingly familiar. "You're mine..."

Ginny, you're mine.

No. Stop. Please, Tom, you're scaring me.

And suddenly, Ginny could see again. She could see where she was and what she was doing.

She struggled to get her hands between Draco and herself. She planted them firmly on Draco's chest and shoved him with all her strength. He went stumbling back into the shelf and several bottles crashed to the ground.

"What the hell?" Draco exclaimed, looking at her in shock.

Ginny didn't take time to catch her breath. She grabbed her bag, ripped open the closet door and stormed through it, ignoring Draco's voice calling her name.

She pelted down the corridors, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. She reached the Fat Lady, who was now back in her portrait. Ginny gave her the password and pushed through the portrait hole, sprinting through the empty common room and up to her dormitory. The girls in her dorm were all, mercifully, asleep.

She sank down on her own bed, shaking hard and trying to catch her breath. Slowly, she kicked off her shoes and closed the curtains on her bed. Then she lay down, breathing deeply and trying to slow her racing heartbeat. Tears streamed down her face, soaking her pillow and she felt sick to her stomach.

She could still feel Draco's lips on hers, could remember the dizzying, intoxicating feeling of knowing that he wanted her. She might be able to fool her friends, but she couldn't fool herself (or Draco, apparently.) She wanted him, and he knew it. Guilt overcame her as Dean's face swam before her eyes. How could she do this to him? Dean was a wonderful person, and a great boyfriend. He treated her well, made her feel happy, stood up for her when people insulted her...

But not once had he ever made her world spin out of control, made her dizzy with intoxication, made her heart ache with desire. Only once before had anyone made her feel that way. Until now, she'd thought she would never feel that way again, that no one else was capable of doing that to her.

Ginny, you're mine.

No. Stop. Please, Tom, you're scaring me.

You can't hide from me, Ginny. I know who you are. You love me.

I do.

You're frightened of me.

Yes.

You should be.

* * *

References:

1) "His smile was awfully cute-, no. It's not cute. It's annoying. I'm annoyed." - Buffy

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