A/N: Wow. I'm officially the worst writer to ever write at ff.net.
My computer, has quite literally, been dead for the past month and a half. I've received so many emails asking where chapter 9 is, because in the summary it said it was up … which was true … I had posted the last chapter before my computer went ker-plop. But whatever, due to some incomprehensible feat of technology, it didn't go up, and so here I am a month later begging your forgiveness. I'm just going to copy and paste the post that I (thank heaven) saved before everything went black. Here you are:
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hello! I'm back! *tears up* your reviews were sooooooo amazing. Thanks especially to Kjata, who made my life with her flattering review. Also, thank you to everyone who sent me such happy emails. I'm so glad so many people like this fic – I'm personally in love with it. =)
-- feel free to email or IM me … or just review, hehe. I'd love to have 200 reviews by chapter 10 (hint hint).
AIM: xfire Angeliquex
My last chapter was awesomely received, but it also strayed more into humor … I promise I'll get serious in this chapter. After all, a mortal curse and inbred animosity isn't exactly funny. Ron snogging Professor Snape, however, is, and I simply couldn't help myself.
Kisses to: KatieK, jane riddle, lxs234, Lady Malfoy, Lil-frankie14, FemmeDraconis, Ally, niiri, Big-Red2006, Emma, Dot Dot Dot, Madison27, SarkLover, Karlin88, Charmed-Goddes-07, amsev, Crystal Moon Magic, Wizzabee, Katie27, Hermione15, Petetraj, ana, Darcy16, Lady LizZ, Lady Ananas, Dru Sharpeye, Babs5, babysb, Angels Exist, sabacat, thePixiecomplex, tattoodragonz, NYC1313, Sesshoumaru5, el chikita joules, Thaelia 15, Kaitie, D-O-U-B-L-E I-M-P-A-C-T (love the username, btw), SiNg SoNg24, xangel-luvx, KawaiiRyu, Alice28, ForbidenMaggiks, Alice28, Kawaii Tropical Oasis, and Green-Eyed Stranger . You are amazing! (wow, now that I've typed them all that, that's A LOT of people who like my fic! Y'all make my world. Thanks so much)
Extra big kisses to:
beth – your review made me laugh! I had to thank you for taking all that time to find my story again, lol. I'm so happy you're enjoying my fic … yay!
Ilana – my ultimate florida homie. What would I do without you?
OffWhite – I'm so psyched about Engraved in Eternity. Here's to us! Thanks for continuing to read this one =)
Kjata – thank you sooooo much for your ultra-flattering review. You brightened my day – I only I hope I really can live up to what you think I'm capable of! Thanks so much!
Dirt Is Yummy – I had to thank you for reading all the way through and reviewing =) you're amazing. lol, and I love your username.
GEmory – my coolest ever repeat reviewer =)
Oh oh and check out the two new fics
I've posted as well. They're kickass, I promise.
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish Harry Potter was mine so I could sue the poor little kids who forget to put disclaimers in their fictions. But unfortunately, I do not have that happy power. J.K. Rowling does, but I'm sure she's nice enough to let a slip like a forgotten disclaimer pass.
Allrighty, here we go!
Chapter 9: Unprecedented Pain"I heard that you were feeling ill, headache, fever and a chill. I came to help restore your pluck 'cos I'm the nurse who likes to fuck!" Parvati pursed her lips erotically as her posse erupted into fits of inane giggles.
Ginny gritted her teeth. Jesus Christ, do they ever come up with anything new? She had heard that stupid, fucking rhyme at least a hundred times since school started. Only now did she have something to combat it with.
Covered in ink and laden with newspapers, Ginny casually set down her load on the table outside the Great Hall and pulled out a handkerchief, contemplating the slut in front of her. She calmly wiped her face and smoothed her robes, deftly picking up the first newspaper in the pile and tossing at Parvati.
"Tsk, tsk, Parvati, it seems the queen of gossip is strutting around with old news. Haven't you heard? Or were you too busy faking orgasms for Snape so you could maintain the semblance of intelligence?"
Parvati gaped, attempting to discern whether or not she had been insulted. She gave up, shrugged and glanced down at the paper.
Ginny smiled at Parvati's shriek and immediate hushed chatter to her clones. Grabbing another stack of the heaven-sent newspapers, she proceeded to the Ravenclaw common room to discharge another load of freedom.
After Hermione and Harry revived Ron last night following Ginny and Draco's little visit, the poor boy had immediately sat down and written a lovely, long apology letter to the whole school. Justin Finch-Fletchley (the same prat that had apparently published a searing article on underage prostitution at the beginning of the year that she had conveniently missed), had approached her red-faced that morning and inquired if she'd like the privilege of delivering this issue of Hogwarts Weekly to the school. Ron's remorseful face sighed up at her from the freshly printed pages, and of course she had agreed happily.
Perhaps now Hogwarts would realize Virginia Weasley was not a girl to be messed with.
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All in all, it was a delightful week. Although no one approached her on their knees, groveling in heartfelt apology, she did receive approving nods and some muttered apologies. For the first time since school started, she actually had a decent conversation with someone other than Madame Pomfrey. After realizing what had happened, the majority of the Gryffindors had rushed to Ginny's side and promptly shunned the disloyal Ron. The boy's Psvodomai Hades seemed to be never ending now as her house-mates picked up the responsibility. This week alone had left him with Jelly-Legs, Burning Crotch, and Incurable Itch. Ginny began to feel … supported, but certainly not befriended. If her banishment from Gryffindor had taught her anything, it was the superficiality of people in general. They had made it quite clear that their friendship was a transient thing and occurred only when it suited them. Loyalists, indeed.
Truth be told, the only person in Gryffindor she had truly regained friendship with was Hermione. Hermione had been amazing; and the two of them had spent nearly every waking moment together since Ron's downfall, which Hermione was nicknaming "The Conquest of the Weasel."
Hermione was the only one who still loved Ginny Weasley. I guess you don't come through something like that and still have friends, Ginny thought as she returned a shallow smile to Lavendar Brown.
But in between rediscovering her best friend, avoiding Harry and Ron and bitching out the cads that still considered her inferior for working, she had developed quite an interesting … tolerance for a certain ferret.
Very few people were let into the confidence of the truth about Ronald Weasley's Psvedomai and tormentors. Hermione, Xavier Miaskotein (Malfoy's creepy Slytherin best friend), and Bronwyn Paris (some Slytherin bitch …) were the only ones who knew. Ginny was quick to notice that her choice of confidants was limited to one, very trustworthy and very honorable young lady. His choice were two vile, evil-looking miscreants that were completely untrustworthy and conniving. Crabbe and Goyle probably know too … stupid prick.
All the same, for some unholy and profane reason that she couldn't even begin to understand, she and Malfoy had grown quite … heaven forbid … chummy. It had been rather unnerving at first, but at the same time natural. Mutual enemies … hmmm.
After the morning spent on the rooftop and the sidesplitting 'conversation' they had conducted with Ron, and pretty much her whole revenge in general had grown a new respect in her for the boy.
Speaking of the devil … Ginny's lips curved into a contented smirk as Malfoy rounded the corner, flanked by his massive bodyguards. She couldn't help but be happy to see him.
He turned his head, meeting her gaze. Ginny bit her lip, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. She had become accustomed to it; and as soon as it had hit, it was gone. She leaned back in her seat confidently, sneering at the arrogant young man who towered over her small frame.
His normally cold grey eyes danced with mischief as he peered down at her.
"Ah, Miss Weasley, what a surprise finding you here." He gestured magnanimously at the Great Hall.
She smirked. "Indeed. In the Great Hall, on a Saturday. What a coincidence, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy chuckled and dismissed Crabbe and Goyle to rummage for food with a snap of his fingers. He fell into a nearby chair gracefully, kicking his feet up onto the table in front of her.
Ginny made a face. "Malfoy, get your bloody shoes out of my face. No telling where they've been."
He smirked and waggled them closer. "No, no telling. I'd ask you to clean them up for me, but that'd be defeating the purpose, wouldn't it? Dirt cleaning dirt?" He yelped and snatched his feet away quickly as Ginny pinched the sensitive skin below his knee.
"Owwww!" He yelped unhappily, glaring at her. "Are you trying to make it more painful?"
She was about to shoot him a scowl when that dratted concern washed over her again. She immediately sprang to her feet to inspect the damage she had inflicted, stretching out his leg cautiously as she clucked maternally and openly cursed herself for her short patience with him.
She finally convinced herself that he would live and was about to resume her seat when she noticed he hadn't moved for the duration of her examination and was smiling up at her with an irritating sort of happiness.
"What?" She huffed. "Aren't you the one supposed to be in constant pain? Wipe that smile off your pointed little ferret-face."
He laughed openly now. "You are so easy to get going, Weasley. Rather funny to watch, actually. You become an entirely different person when all that healer rubbish comes out. Pleasant change from the usual, hot tempered weasel we all have to put up with every single day of our miserable lives." He sighed dramatically.
Ginny rolled her now normally coloured eyes and chucked a pear at him. "Just remember who's giving you that potion, Malfoy."
He gasped in mock distress. "You wouldn't!"
"You know damn well I would."
He laughed again and continued a scrutiny of his perfectly manicured fingernails. "So, are you going to the match tomorrow?"
Ginny smiled. "A chance to watch my brother get his ass kicked by Slytherin? Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Draco's eyes widened in an amusing mixture of shock and respect. "You know, if I had never met you before, I might have thought you were a Slytherin. But then I suppose I would have noticed all that abhorrent hair of yours and realized that power doesn't come in that colour…"
Virginia's eyes darkned dangerously as she said quietly, "And to think I just gave you an extra dose of Reliever to help you for tomorrow's game. Tsk, tsk." She leant over towards him, her nose inches away from his. "Why Malfoy, did you mean, this abhorrently coloured mess?" She flicked a fiery lock into the space between their faces. She bit her lip and tilted her head slightly. "Why, I like it. It makes me different from all those other …" she leant in closer to his ear, close enough that her lips were brushing the sensitive skin between his earlobe and neck and so that her breath tickled his hair. "… nasty purebloods who look like exactly the same, inbred, blond clones day after day."
She pulled back and smiled before rising smoothly to her feet and walking out. "You had better come to the hospital wing after the game, Malfoy," she called over her shoulder. "Your appointment still stands, and the extra I gave you today will have completely worn off by then. You'll be just like you are any other Sunday. Don't be late, dearest!" And with that, she sashayed through the door and out of his line of sight.
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Holy fuck. Malfoy crossed his legs self consciously and ran his hands through his platinum hair. Did she have any idea the effect she had on him? That was, quite possibly, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He sighed in the memory of her short Gryffindor red skirt riding up her pale legs, her top gaping in a delicious way that made him want to tear it off her perfect shoulders, her full, red lips pouting and breathing hot, seductive air into his ear …
He groaned in defeat. He didn't know if he could find a sufficient Slytherin whore tonight to top that.
************
Slytherin won the match on Sunday. Ginny was thrilled … pathetic really, that it had gotten to the point that even the fiercely loyal Ginny would switch sides like that. And of course, Gryffindor rallied to Ron and Harry's side as soon as the game began. But she really didn't have the energy to sulk about it. Let them reward him for being a bastard. He'll learn soon enough when he's dumped into the real world next year.
But thrill wore off quickly. She had waited for Malfoy in the hospital wing for nearly five hours afterwards – the game had ended at six-thirty, and she had finally closed up around eleven, at which point she was positively frantic. The boy had never gone this long without his potion – the pick-me-up she had given him the day before had surely worn off by then. She had even seen him begin to lose strength during the game. By then he should have been feeling like the usually shit he felt like every Sunday. So where the hell was he?
Well, he never showed up, and Ginny spent a worried night tossing and turning. Ridiculous! Her, Virginia Weasley, losing sleep over a stuck up prat like Malfoy! She couldn't believe herself. Absolutely pathetic. Her temporary feelings of amity towards him from the day before quickly evaporated and she found herself quite fed up, all memories of Ron and sweet vengeance far lost.
And so she had worked straight through Monday, making a point of it to not even look for him in the halls or at meals. She figured he'd drag himself into the hospital wing sooner or later, begging for relief.
But he never came.
On Tuesday she couldn't lie to herself any longer, and the healer inside her began to scream at her for being so thoughtless. She searched the school for him; looked for him in all her classes.
But he wasn't there.
By Wednesday she was starting to get nervous. She asked the Gryffindors if anyone had seem him lately, and only got laughing responses that they hoped his absence meant death. She cringed inwardly, unsure of her sudden change of heart for the nasty ferret.
On Thursday, she stooped to the level of approaching that disgusting slut, Bronwyn. She walked slowly down the hall to the Ancient Runes class, knowing the girl was there, not having any idea what to say.
Her brain ran through a mental rehearsal. "Uh, hey, Bronwyn, right? We've been mortal enemies forever, I know, but I was just wondering if by chance you knew where my other mortal enemy, Draco Malfoy could be?" Yep, that'll work. Stupid. So stupid.
When she finally built up the nerve to knock on the door and request that Ms. Paris be excused for a moment on hospital business (praise the gods for that little disk Dumbledore had given her), the tall girl stalked out of the class and glared at her with an unmatched annoyance as she perched on stiletto heels whose only support could be pure demonic magic. Her heavy eyeliner quirked in question as Ginny fumbled for words.
"No, I don't know where Draco is." She sighed discontentedly. "He didn't seem quite right Sunday night, after sex. I mean, he's always been kind of gentle, which is weird, but he was almost … hurt, I guess, on Sunday night. Weird. Yea, but I haven't seen him since."
Ginny winced visibly. Definitely didn't need to know that. She cleared her throat nervously. "Oh, I had no idea you two were …"
Bronywn laughed maliciously. "No, no, sweetie, it's not like that at all. Slytherin don't do that whole cutsey 'boyfriend girlfriend' thing. We do sex. And me and uh, Vanessa, I think, were the ones that night."
Yea, that was most certainly on a need to know basis. "Umm… thanks. Anyone else I might ask?"
Bronwyn considered this. "Pansy might know, the little slut clings to the poor guy like a leech. Maybe ask Blaise or Xavier … I'd suggest Crabbe and Goyle, but they're usually so stoned they forget his name if they don't seen him for two days."
Ginny nodded in thanks and turned to leave. Besides the need to vomit, the conversation had offered no solutions whatsoever. And there was no way in hell she was going to ask Blaise Zabini or Miaskotein. Ms. Paris was about all she could take, thank you.
Friday Morning, Virginia was waiting outside the Slytherin Common Room door for Blaise Zabini. God damn her conscience.
But it turned out he didn't know anything either. Malfoy seemed to have bloody well disappeared. Goddamn him. Did he have any idea the trouble he was causing?
By Sunday morning, Ginny was completely consumed with guilt and paranoia. Perhaps it was her fault? Perhaps she had said something or done something at the quidditch match that had driven him to … something? Perhaps he had died from some untreated wound that she had failed to notice?
She had finally given in and told Madame Pomfrey, who had of course already known. Sad that her healing instincts had been kicked on high all week because of him (selfish little prick) and her thoughts had been like an open book for the old nurse to read. Ugh.
Hermione, more than a little miffed at being ignored all week, was also given a toned down version of the story. And naturally, Dumbledore knew by lunchtime.
And yet he still was nowhere to be found.
Ginny took all three days off school Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the next week to wait in the hospital wing, thinking perhaps she'd missed him sometime during the day the previous week. This would surely be the first place he'd come.
And so it happened that she was sitting at her desk Wednesday morning, furiously scribbling the Potions notes she was missing and thinking pointlessly about what exactly she should be doing. If Malfoy never showed up, what on earth would happen to her? This gnawing worry would eat her alive. She gritted her teeth. He had better un-disappear, and he had better do it soon.
It was just then that the hospital wing door opened. Except, no one walked through.
Ginny blinked her eyes a couple of times and watched curiously as the door handle turned itself and shut the door quietly. That's it, love. You've lost it. All this worrying has driven you absolutely bonkers. It was bound to happen.
And then, just as she was about to go brew some more coffee to clear her senses, one solitary drop of blood fell from nowhere in the air beside the door.
Virginia jumped to her feet, her mouth going completely dry from the eerie sensations creeping along her skin. That 'something-is-not-right' feeling hung in the air, and she felt her stomach clench and then slowly drop to the pit of her gut as her eyes dilated and morphed.
"DRACO!"
She didn't even pause to think about the atrocity she had committed by using that name … the first time it had ever escaped her lips.
She sprinted over to the door, her bare feet slapping on the cold tile. As she slowed down to the empty space before her, she reached her hands out, tentatively feeling for something solid.
"Draco, oh gods, I know you're there … say something … shit!" Ginny plummeted to the ground as wave upon wave of searing agony racked her body. She held her breath and waited for them to stop, but they didn't. Tears pouring down her face, she dragged herself back up to a shaky stance. She reached out a hand.
Another cold shock of pain whizzed through her arm as she touched him. The fiery ache pulsed steadily in her body, and for the first time, she felt exactly what he was going through. How did he do it? How did he live? She could barely stand upright.
Sobbing, she reached for his other invisible shoulder and attempted to guide him towards the nearest bed, trying her hardest not to lean on him for her own relief. Finally, the invisible body that she knew was there found the cold sterility of the hospital bed. She crumbled in a tortured heap on the floor, genuinely worried her body was going to start exhibiting physical signs of the torture manifesting itself in her soul.
Gingerly, she rose back to her feet and wiped the tears away, forcing every ounce of discipline she had to fight the pain and hold her own. She opened her eyes and looked down.
In one slow, deliberate gesture, Malfoy tore off the invisibility cloak that was covering him. She screamed.
Virginia let out a horrible, blood-curdling scream that pierced the cold, clean silence of the hospital wing. It was a scream of shock, of pain, and of utter helplessness. Once again she found herself on the ground, literally floored by the suffering contained in his thin body. The scorching waves of unthinkable torture assaulted her body from all sides, promising no relief.
She opened her eyes slowly, swallowing the pain and trying to let her sense of duty direct her. From her position on the floor, she could see one, bloody hand hanging limply off the edge of the bed. Dark, purple gashes sunk into it, and blood dripped from every contour of its usually immaculate ivory finish. The nails had been ripped off, and she could feel the acid-like air ripping into his nail-beds as if they were her own hands.
With all the remaining will power she had, she ripped her head away and stood shakily to her feet, turning her back on him and running as fast as she could to her desk to grab the potion that had been waiting for him all week. The pain pounded its fists into her back, stabbing her with a million daggers and dragging her back to his bedside.
She gripped the bottle with two hands as she looked down at a boy who had lived in a world of high-bred luxury, of money and class. A boy who was cold and ruthless. A boy who had gone out of his way to help her regain her dignity.
The bloodied and gore-soaked cloak lay in a crimson mess at his feet. Rags of what were once clothing hung off his emaciated body and were barely visible; entirely saturated with blood. At first glance, one would have thought that it wasn't a man that lay in the bed, but a life-size dummy, painted completely red.
The blood was everywhere. She had thought it had been bad before, but this … It clung in bitter beads to the strands of his usually perfect hair, it dripped from his eyelashes and covered his face, seeped out of pores and flowed from gaping wounds. All colours – bright red, vermillion, crimson, scarlet, burgundy, purple, and black, plastering him in a sheet of grating reality. His neck was slit from chin to collarbone, and dark gore leaked from every gash. Old scars littered his body, but they had now opened with sinister fervour, trapping him in an inescapable world of pain and blood. His arms were two long series of deep lacerations, and pus built in the creases of his elbows – she could tell they were infected. His usually athletic and chiseled chest was torn open, skin seeping with blood and bones piercing through the soft skin of his stomach. A dark object was lodged in his bellybutton, and his breathing was short and shallow. She couldn't even bring herself to detail the rest of his body, it was all the same. All horribly mutilated, all hellishly defaced and butchered. She grimaced at his toes, smashed and forlorn at the end of his long, twisted legs. A single, solitary patch of pale skin peeked out at her from under one of his legs. She drew a sharp breath. It was the place she had pinched him not a week before.
And it was the only part of his body that was not drenched in blood and oozing with pain.
Gulping back her tears, which she was being careful to catch in the tails of her blouse so as not to let their salt burn his wounds, she leant down and as gently as possible tilted his mouth open. His eyes forced themselves halfway open and he peered at her through crusty, dried blood from darkly bloodshot eyes. She could feel the tears stinging in her own eyes as her fingers slipped on his lubricated red skin.
He made no move to stop her, but coughed, hacking up blood and Merlin knows what else onto his already dissolved shirt.
"Shh …" Her voice quaked precariously. Tucking her hand under his neck, she supported his mouth and poured the elixir in.
He closed his eyes. She mimicked him, and as she focused on him, she could feel the cooling relief slide down her own throat. A tiny, nearly intangible force to fight the overwhelming odds of pain and anguish that were plaguing his body.
Ginny stood up and looked down at her now blood-soaked shirt. She couldn't bring herself to care. A thin line of blood traced her jawline where a bit of his cough had caught her, and it's insignificance in comparison loudly mocked her. She choked back another sob and swept a light hand across his brow, attempting to wipe away some of the blood. To her horror, a whole new flood simply replaced the puddle she splashed off. It was a constant flow. The tears flowed hotly now, and she just continued to smooth his nearly liquid forehead and pray to Merlin that he'd be ok. She sent a subconscious page to Madame Pomfrey, but it was unlikely the mediwitch would respond for at least two hours. Of all the days for her to visit St. Mungo's today.
Malfoy (yes, it was still Malfoy. She wouldn't allow herself that indulgence again) coughed slightly again and she flinched, straightening briefly to summon a chair. Within a few seconds she was sitting down, doing her best to heal what few unhealable wounds there were.
"We… Weasley?"
Ginny jumped at the abrupt sound of his weak voice. It seemed an unreal antilogy that this gory figure was even capable of speaking. It was a divine miracle he had even been able to drag himself here from wherever the hell he had been.
Her abrupt movement caught in a channel of skin along his eyebrow and he groaned in pain.
"Oh gods, I'm so sorry!" She drew out her wand to quickly pour a cooling solvent on the pain she had just caused.
He sighed in the most meager sign of relief.
"Weasley … I'm … sorry. I …" He coughed again, his body retching and twisting in pain. The blood was quickly soaking through the magically-strengthened sheets, and she winced again as the sounds of breaking bones echoed in his torso. Was he … apologizing? If she had been slightly less delirious, she probably would have fainted.
"My … father …." He convulsed again, visibly gagging. "Quidditch game … didn't … didn't …"
"Please … Malfoy, just rest, it's ok."
"…didn't …couldn't … tell you …" In alarm, Ginny watched another wound open on the crown of his head. Malfoy let out a nearly inaudible cry of pain. Instinctively she withdrew her hand.
"Don't … don't stop …" And with that, he passed out.
Ginny sniffed back the tears and continued to stroke his burning forehead, surveying his body with a medical eye. In horror, she realized that some of the wounds were fresh, not a part of the giant inventory she had made last week. And big ones, too. A stab wound in the side … and that … thing lodged in his stomach. She'd have to wait for Madame to arrive.
The bruises and blood that covered him were almost too much to handle. She just kept soothing his brow, feeling his blood pulse feebly beneath her fingertips, and bringing every curse she knew or had ever heard of down on the head of a certain Lucius Malfoy.
************
A/N: That was sobering to write. Allright. Well, there you go! Again, I'm soooooooo incredibly sorry for the long wait. I hope it was worth it … and yes I know, I left it on a cliffie. You'll find out everything next chapter.
Final copyright notes: The rhyme that Parvati teases Ginny with in the first line is from Ferris Buller's Day off. I couldn't help myself. =)
Read and Review please!