Where'd You Go?

Chapter Eight. Reversal

There's no use thinking why these phases change you

You're not waiting here for anyone

I'll break down if you come around

When you need it, I want you to

Take the past and cut it out

Let the knife turn to rust

Make something else up, there's majesty in motion

You've made your mind up...

If you want it I want it too

---"Follow Through," Hotel Lights

If it was at all possible, things actually worsened for Draco and Ginny during the next month. She was never able to meet his eyes, and most of the time, he just pretended she wasn't in the room. But when their gazes did happen to meet, he would always smirk at her. Smirk as if he knew of the conflicted inner turmoil that lay within her. The wanker.

Their dueling became even more aggressive than usual. But their differences became obvious as time wore on. While Draco was absolutely frigid and always maintained a calm composure, Ginny was nearly bursting and just wanted to get everything off her chest. She wasn't the type that just let things stew; and yet with Draco, she felt completely out of her element.

The way Ginny saw it, it was probably a good thing that she wasn't able to approach him. She had no business wanting to talk to Draco Malfoy anyway. It was bad enough that she snogged him. What would Harry say? What about her family? And even putting aside all of the horrible things she knew about him and how much Harry and Ron hated him, just the fact alone that he was a Malfoy should have caused her to run, not walk, in the other direction. She must be a sick and twisted individual indeed to feel the very opposite. Seriously, what was wrong with her?

"Harry loves me," she assured herself. "And I love him. I should be ashamed of myself."

They did love each other. And she was ashamed of even considering something with anyone else, much less with Draco Malfoy. But under all that still laid her traitorous feelings that were threatening to revolt against her almost daily.

To Ginny, it made no sense. Snogging him was hardly something she wanted to do. And she definitely didn't want to have to fight off any feelings for him (which disgusted Ginny that they were even there in the first place). And yet, all of this was happening anyway.

Ginny had never really been one to sink into depressions or dark places, disregarding, of course, her first year. She liked to see the best in situations and tried not to dwell on the things that bothered her too much. However, as much as she tried to not make her life seem so bleak, she was starting to spiral down to rock bottom.

There was a lot of thinking on her bed and staring into space, which was what she was doing at the moment. She read a great deal more often, which had never really been her thing until now. And she was eating a lot more than normal. It was like she was trying to embody the different traits of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

There was a knock at the door, disrupting her from what she called "reflecting" but what was really nothing more than moping. Her mum stuck her head in the door.

"Hello dear," she said softly.

"Hi, Mum," Ginny answered, not moving from her comfortable position. She knew what her mother wanted; discussion. There was an obvious change in Ginny over the past few months, and she knew her mum wanted to get to the bottom of it. She hadn't been around as much - neither of her parents were, as well as any of the other Order members - and it was obviously now time for compensating.

Sometimes Ginny actually did genuinely reflect, and the almost constant solitude forced her to take a long, hard look at her life. And not just the time from the summer, either. She came up with several observations:

Ginny grew up in love with life itself. She was an optimist and made everyone's day better. She was mischievous but caring, courageous yet vulnerable.

Her first year changed most of that, or at least altered it. She no longer saw things in black and white and came to realize the harsh realities of the world. She was damaged and was only left with the bare essentials with which to build herself up again.

And build Ginny did. She broke out of her shell, gave up on Harry ever noticing her, and finally made something of herself. It was probably one of the best decisions in her life.

Of course, she could never completely give up on Harry. She had loved him for as long as she could remember, and the idea of not loving him anymore made her feel strange and incomplete. When he finally did notice her, it was the best feeling in the world. And it was a great and magical summer, even despite their difficulties. She loved Harry Potter, and she knew he loved her back, and it had been enough for her.

But was it? Was it really enough? Was theirs the kind of love that would last a lifetime, that would make the history books? Would their passion burn for decades to come?

When Ginny thought about the kind of love she wanted, her mind immediately went to her mother and father, and then to Ron and Hermione. Those two relationships were the stuff of legends. Did she have that with Harry?

It scared her to death to even question their love, and she cried about it for days. And in the end, she was left with the ultimate question of who or what did she love: Harry or the thought of Harry? The idea of being in love with Harry Potter was a dream. But did the reality live up to it?

It was something she couldn't - wouldn't - think about while he was out risking his neck trying to make the world they lived in a safe one. Ginny wasn't that cruel.

"Ginny?" a voice called.

She was snapped back to the present, where her mother was waiting for her. Molly Weasley was literally towering over Ginny, who was still lying down in bed.

"Yes?" she sighed.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, love?"

Ginny actually thought about it. There was plenty wrong. So much she could say. But would her mother even understand?

She shook her head in response. "There's nothing wrong," she lied. It was their usual exchange.

Her mother crossed her arms. "You're lying to me. Would you like to know how I know that?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked uneasily.

"You, my intelligent little daughter, picked the wrong person to confide in."

"Tonks told you!" Ginny practically shrieked and stood up abruptly. "How could she?"

"Don't worry. Unfortunately, she only cracked a little. Just enough to tell me that there is something bothering you."

Ginny was still horrified and felt betrayed. Was it so much to expect someone to keep a secret around here? She was reminded of their last stay in Grimmauld Place, and how fumbled and flustered Tonks was, espescially around Mrs. Weasley. What on earth could have addled Ginny's brain?

"She also managed to convince me to not nag you about it, so don't be mad at her."

That's a lot to ask, don't you think?

"Ginny?" Her mum said softly. Something about the tone of her voice made Ginny look at her mother. Her warm brown eyes were starting to get cloudy, and she gently wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"I love you, my miracle," she said into Ginny's hair. It was name she hadn't heard from her mother in years. It was what she used to call her when she was little because she was the only girl in the family. "And you can tell me anything, you know that. I'll always listen to you. Always."

That touched Ginny, and she felt a few tears slip out of her eyes. She hugged her mum back just as fiercely and enjoyed having a mother's embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Ginny's love for her family was constant, and it was the one thing she could always depend on. The only kind of love that wouldn't let her down. She would be more careful not to take it for granted.

***

Christmas was fast approaching, and this was the first time in Ginny's entire life that she was not looking forward to it. Actually, there was another time when she was seven involving (who else?) Fred and George when they told her she was getting nothing but coal for Christmas. But they were most definitely punished for it by their father, which more than made up for it in Ginny's eyes.

There were many reasons why she wasn't looking forward to Christmas, the most glaring of them being that they were going to spend it at Grimmauld Place. Even if they had managed to get the house presentable enough, it still carried some residual gloom that refused to be banished. And then there was also the fact that it would just be herself, her parents, the twins, and the "icy one" if he decided to grace them all with his presence.

Charlie was still in Romania, while Bill was going to be in France with Fleur and his new in-laws. He wasn't even going to be able to make it for Boxing Day due to increased security with travelling.

Not to mention, of course, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still missing. Ginny thought that was the best way to put it since she had no clue where they were, when they would be back, or even what kind of danger they were in. The only thing she did know was that they actually were in danger. Obviously, not exactly the most comforting thought in the world. Still, she continued to send them every ounce of hope and love she had in her heart. It was the least she could do.

The very helplessness of her situation was eating away at her. Ginny was a doer, and she hated not being able to do anything.

One day, a few days before Christmas, Ginny was idly wandering the house in complete boredom. Lessons were done for the day, her father was at work while her mum was downstairs baking. Tonks had already been by, and they played a few games of Gobstones before she had to go back to work. It was hard to stay mad at Tonks for long for two reasons: her personality was just too fun, and she really did seem so apologetic that being mad at her just seemed pointless. And then there was also the undeniable fact that Tonks was all the company she had.

Ginny felt she couldn't possibly pick another book for the day, and she avoided the library like the plague. What else was there to do?

In a fit of desperation, she decided to wander upstairs and explore the unused rooms. They were unused for a reason, and she was afraid they might actually carry the plague up there. Still, she couldn't think of a better thing to do.

She cautiously entered one room to immediately be accosted by a storm of dust and left in a coughing fit.

Ginny swiped at the tears that lingered at the corners of her eyes. She slumped against the wall and slid down in defeat. This had obviously been a bad idea. There was nothing up here but dust and mold, and she didn't know why she tried to delude herself into thinking otherwise. It was only because she had just been so desperate to find something to do that would break the mold, or let her forget, at least for a little while. Wishful thinking.

Just as Ginny was about to get up and head back downstairs, something caught her ears. Something faint but definitely something musical. And it was a cheerful little tune, with a fast tempo and high notes. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she slowly followed the music. It was coming from the end of the corridor. She was listening intently when it suddenly stopped. Ginny had a horrible thought that she was imagining things when it started back up again, this time with a slow and mournful number, and Ginny was filled with an inexplicable feeling. She had to find the source of that music.

Ginny finally reached the door that hid the music within. She could now decipher that it clearly came from a piano. That meant that either the piano was charmed, or...

She quietly pushed open the door to reveal Draco Malfoy, sitting on a bench at the piano, his fingers flying across the keys. He wasn't looking at his hands, nor were there any sheets in front of him. It was music that was not memorised by heart, but from the heart. Ginny was frozen in place. She could do nothing but stand and listen.

The song was eerie and chilling, the kind that resonated from the inside out. At one point, it reached a crescendo that nearly gave her goosebumps, and she was so mesmerized that she wasn't even aware that the song had ended.

That was, until, she was rudely informed of the fact.

"What are you doing here?" came an icy voice that broke through Ginny's reverie. She snapped to attention.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered. "It's just that I heard music and wondered where it was coming from."

"So naturally, you being the nosy pest that you are, you barge in on me - again."

"Honestly, that wasn't my intention. The music - it was just so lovely." Ginny felt her face redden and cursed herself.

Draco obviously didn't know how to take a compliment from her, because he said nothing while a muscle in his jaw twitched. If anything, his face became even stonier.

"Who was that by?" she asked hesistantly.

"What does it matter?" he snapped. "No doubt you know nothing of music anyway. I bet you've never even seen a piano up-close. Your family would have starved for a year to even afford a fourth of the value mine at home was worth."

His words were cruel and biting, and they hurt. Ginny felt tears threaten to well up, and she absolutely hated how he made her feel. Who was he to try and make her feel inferior?

"Why don't you go home them? I'm sure your father would welcome you home with open arms, right? Oh, that's right; he can't. And he probably wouldn't even if he could."

Draco's eyes hardened. "Don't you dare even speak about my father. He is your superior in every way. He's not a filthy Mudblood-loving dolt like yours and he knows his place, unlike you. You're not even worthy enough to speak to me, or of my father."

A myriad of feelings were swirling around in Ginny's mind. The one that took the forefront was, of course, anger.

"This is the same father that works for the evil lord that would have seen you dead without a second thought, right? And need I remind you that you are at the mercy of my family? The family that you think is so beneath you took you in when nobody else would. So you know what? You can take your damned blood purity and self-proclaimed superiority and shove it up your arse. Because that means nothing here," Ginny said with conviction.

"This house rightfully belongs to my family," he retorted.

"Not anymore," Ginny said smugly. "Harry owns it now. Doesn't it just kill you?"

"I hate you," Draco spat with absolute venom.

For some reason, Ginny burst into laughter. Draco looked as if he was about to spit fire.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"You don't hate me," she said with a smile. She sauntered over to the vacant piano bench and sat down on it.

"Oh trust me, I do. I hate you for everything you stand for. I hate you for being a blood-traitor, and I hate you for being poor. And I especially hate you because you're such a bloody Gryffindor. There's nothing right now I'm more sure of than that I hate you."

"Maybe you do hate that I don't give a shite about being a pureblood. But you love that I'm poor and that I'm a Gryffindor because you get to taunt me about it. What you really hate is that it doesn't get to me like it does my brother."

Draco folded his arms across his chest and sneered. "What is wrong with you that you are not understanding me?"

Ginny stretched her legs out lazily. "I think I'm beginning to get you better than you think."

"Oh really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. You see, you tease Ron so much because you know you'll get a reaction out of him each and every time. But I'm not like that. I may get defensive or angry sometimes, but I'm not going to fly into a rage and punch you in the face. In other words, you don't have much of an affect on me at all. I even tried to befriend you, and that's what you hate."

Draco took a few strides towards her and stared her right in the face. It was a bit unnerving.

"You think I don't have an affect on you?"

"Yes - I mean no - I mean--"

Draco kneeled down in front of her so that they were face to face. "Exactly."

"What I was trying to say was--"

"Why else would you kiss me?" he interrupted.

Ginny gasped. She didn't think it was something he would ever bring up; rather, she was hoping he never would.

And then Draco kissed her.