Disclaimer: They're not mine
Okay this is the sequel to Silver Scars. When I wrote SS I had no intention of writing a sequel but a lot of people asked for one so here it is at last. This will be longer than SS but hopefully worth it. Romance? Yes some but the main idea of this story is Ginny, Draco and Harry finding their place in each other's lives. I'm going to try to get a better characterization on both Draco and Harry so criticize me all you want, I need it. The beginning is kind of gory but I promise it shouldn't get much worse. Also the fragility of Ginny's character is Temporary. She'll improve I promise.
WARNING: This story contains self-abuse. I don\t want to frighten, encourage or offend anyone, so be warned.
FINALLY: THANK YOU to all the people who reviewed… you guys are the reason I'm writing this.
Try to breathe
Memories over taking me...
Try to face them
But the thought is too much to concieve...
(Fade: Staind)
Her consciousness swam forward, fighting towards the light like a swimmer in deep water trying to reach air. Pushing through the swamp of her unconsciousness she fought forward, reaching… and suddenly she was awake. Ginny sat up dizzily, warm in her bed, safe in the Gryffindor dorm room. This was the way she woke up every morning… so why did it feel so very wrong? Shaking her tangled hair out of her face she pushed the covers away from her body.
Suddenly she froze. She wasn't in her plain cotton nightgown. She was in the tattered remains of her once pretty dress designed for the Yule Ball… and her arms were covered in half healed scars, recently closed and starting to itch terribly. Scratches, not cuts. Random not planned like her scars…
With out warning the previous night's events hit her in a whirlwind that left her sick and dizzy. The dance, Goyle, her trek through the forbidden forest. Harry. Draco. Clutching her stomach desperately she wondered for a moment what terrified her more…the fact that Harry knew her secret or that she had spent the night crying in Draco's arms.
Then she looked at her dress. Shredded from the brambles of the Forbidden Forest she started blankly down at her ruined handy work. She had looked pretty last night, which was rare. People had noticed. Goyle had noticed. Ginny's head fell forward in swift nausea. She rushed down the stairs to the bathroom were she barely made it to the toilet before she started retching into the porcelain bowl. No sooner had the first bout passed then she threw up again, though this time nothing but acid and bile came that burned her mouth and throat raw. 'I can't live like this' she thought desperately, tears running down her pale face.
She looked dejectedly at her skin, her eyes tracing over her body wearily. Weak and shaking on the toilet bowl she caught sight of a little tear in her dress. One that was not made by the thorns in the forest. One that was made by Gregory Goyle's slimy hands sliding down her waist. And she could see it. In her mind's eye she could see his hands and the look in his eye as he defiled her body. Containing nothing more for her body to vomit forth, she bolted up trembling.
"I'm filthy. I'm covered in his filth." Her voice started to quiver. "I have to get clean," she rasped, "I have to get clean."
Frantic, she made her way to the bathtubs. She found her own, lined with what she could afford of soap and sponge. Mindlessly she turned on the water until it streamed forward hot and inviting. Ginny ignored the second-degree burns she was receiving from the scalding water. Hot was good. Hot water would get her clean again.
Ginny grabbed a sponge and began to lather up ignoring the stinging that rippled across her skin as she ripped open half healed scratches with her violent scrubbing. She scrubbed her entire body until her skin tingled, than she rinsed herself carefully. She was still trembling, her mind in complete turmoil, when she gasped. She could still see it. His filth was still on her skin! She felt hysteria rising like bile in her throat, but she caught herself. Laughing harshly she found herself repeating what her mother often said, "If it's not clean, wash it. If it's still not clean then wash it again!"
So she washed and scrubbed until her skin blistered under her touch. Ginny pulled at her hair and tore at her skin, the intense feeling of helplessness overwhelming her. It was still there she realized as unfelt tears began to roll again down her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't escape the grime he had tainted her with. Grime and shame. It was still there and there was only one way for her to get rid of it.
Standing up shakily she stepped out of the bathtub, slipping a little on the cold tile floor. She went to the small cupboard where she was allowed to keep some of her things, toothbrush, combs, soap…etc. Her knife wasn't there she knew… it was still lost in the owlery tower, but she still had a tiny razor …
'If I can't clean it off, I'll cut it out,' she thought desperately. As soon as she made the decision a strange eerie calm settled in her. This would work. It would have to, because she couldn't live and see his hands on her body forever. She'd go insane.
As Ginny settled back into the slowly cooling water, she was still oblivious to the tears on her face or the pain shooting over her skin. Without closing her eyes she touch the tiny razor to her arm. Her flesh was soft and wet from an hour's soaking and the blade sliced easily and dangerously over it, leaving a trail thin red blood. She was in complete mental chaos, but in some center in her head she went over every part of her that Goyle had touched and slashed until the sight of her blood wiped out the memory or his hands. The steel touched, tasted and slashed itself over her arms, stomach, waist and breasts. It sliced mercilessly over her skin… little lace cuts where only his fingers had been; deep, wide gashes where his palms had slid down…
She was in pain, blessed pain. It crept over her at first but then it released a floodgate, showering over her nervous system. Peace. With her mind drenched in her self-made harm she couldn't think of anything else. She couldn't feel anything else. Goyle was lost in a sea of pain floating aimlessly in the pink water of the bathtub.
"Ginny? Ginny, are you in there?"
She froze.
"Ginny, come on, it's Neville. I don't mean to bother, but the Christmas feast is starting and you should be there!"
Shaking herself stiffly out of her trance she said, "I- I'm not… Not very hungry---" her voice sounded brittle and thin "---- Just go on with out me."
She heard his feet shuffle idly outside the door. "But Gin, people are asking for you. And---" his voice dropped and faltered a bit "Ginny, it's lonely down there."
Ginny let her head roll back slowly. This was Neville's first year to be left at Hogwarts for the holidays. Two years before his grandmother had been killed at the beginning of Voldemort's vicious up rising. Even after the very temporary defeat and his withdrawal to build stronger armies, Neville having lost both parents and Grandmother to villain was near frantic. Then his Great uncle died leaving him orphaned. That had been the last blow. All his energy, personality and chumminess had drained away like tap water. He was lonely and miserable and now he was asking for her help to get through his first Christmas alone. How could she refuse?
"Okay, Neville, I'll be down in a minute--- Just give me some time to get ready. I-I'll be down soon."
His voice clearly brightened. "Okay. I'll go ahead, but don't take to long."
Broken from her stricken state she raised quickly form the bathtub… and gasped. The water was pink and she bleeding everywhere. Blood ran freely down her stomach, chest and thighs.
"Oh, no," she whispered as she pulled a towel around herself and dried off. She was still bleeding as she wrapped herself in bathrobe (maroon, an old one of Ron's), even though the smaller cuts had tapered off. Opening the door carefully she was relieved to see that Neville was gone and could not the blood winding down her ankles. Quietly she made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, stopping to clean any blood spots that dripped on the way.
Back in the dorm room Ginny knew she was in trouble. Staring at her naked body in the mirror she felt herself begin to laugh hysterically.
"Cutting is control," she spoke to her wet and blood soak reflection. "Control over pain that will kill you if you don't release it. And here I am bleeding to death. If I die on my knife it will be the sorriest joke in the school. The point is to live not die!!" She collapsed on the bed willing the bleeding on her stomach and arms to stop. It didn't. "I've butchered myself," she whispered to the mirror.
The mirror twisted suddenly into a face. "Deary, " it said comfortably. "You'd best get yourself cleaned up or else get to infirmary. You don't look well from what I'm seeing."
"I'll be fine, mirror," she lied. " It will take some work, but DAMNED it all I'm going to be fine."
As the face in the mirror vanished, Ginny called on hidden reserves of Weasely strength. Healing charms were few; magic relied more on potions and balms than spells to heal hurts. What she knew she spoke carefully and then she took out the robes she would wear for breakfast. Carefully she put a charm on them that would make nothing stain them. It was her mother's favorite especially when the twins had to look nice for an event. "Nothing can get passed this," her mother would say, "Not pumpkin juice, toffee, raspberry soda…" or blood she thought grimly.
Dressed she brushed her hair back in quick ponytail and worked on a practice face for the crowd. Shuddering at the thought of the trial before her she stood and left the room.
Hell was just around the corner.
When she entered the great hall the first thing she saw was Neville red and trembling, cowering under the cold gaze of Draco Malfoy. For one long moment her heart stopped beating. Then she slowly took in the scene in front of her.
"So, stuck here in jolly old Hogwarts, this year Neville, or was it Snivel? I do keep forgetting… you know considering how long you've been molding in the place it's amazing how practically no one notices you."
Neville stuttered angrily, "Sh-shove off Malfoy, don't you have a first-year you can pick on?"
"Oh well you see Neville," Draco answered laughing "The First-years actually have spines… you're a much easier target and I'm feeling lazy this morning. You're even more green than usual. Don't tell me you're missing Granny Vulture?"
That was apparently the last straw. Neville grabbed his wand and shouted the first curse that came to mind. But Malfoy was too quick for him. Before Neville had uttered the words, which he slurred slightly in anger, Malfoy had cast a reflection spell that sent the curse flying back at Neville. There was flash…and then and eruption of laughter as the smoke cleared and Neville was revealed with flaming pink hair and warts slowly spreading across his face.
Ginny's heart went out to him. Whatever had happen last night, Malfoy was still viscous and goading Neville about his Grandmother was subhuman. She walked into the hall trying to see why the professors weren't stopping this whole. Then she realized they weren't there. They must have already finished and left… which would explain why everyone was restless. Malfoy was still doubled over laughing at Neville's now swollen face when she came quietly between them.
Lifting her wand she muttered the counter-curse over Neville, which quickly made his hair color die down and his warts fade. Making sure to avoided eye contact with Draco she sat down and bade Neville to site beside her.
As soon as he saw her Draco froze. She looked awful…terribly stiff and the way she walked alerted him that something was wrong. Damn. He was stuck with Crabbe tailing him like a whipped dog and a hall full of people. Still sneering he sat down, keeping a hidden eye on her.
Neville sat down trembling as Ginny tried to calm him. "I hate him.. I hate him sooo much! It's him and his kind that killed everything I loved! I wish he would just die and put us all out of our misery." Ginny knew better than to say anything. Some pains were too great to argue with or sympathize or even pity.
"Let it go Neville. Ignore him if you can. I know it's hard but try," she said softly. Neville snapped up to say something but the sight of her made him stop. She look drawn, tired and weary, her damp hair pulled back in an ugly pony tail that was not at all attractive for her face. He mentally shrugged, mildly surprised. The night before she had look very pretty. 'Perhaps all that dancing wore her out,' he thought.
Ginny picked lifelessly at her food. "Where were you last night," she asked. "I didn't see you."
Neville snorted. "Oh I was there, playing my traditional role as the Gryffindor Wall Flower. I just love how this school insists on putting on these ridiculous dances when everybody knows that the Dark Lord is just hiding until his troupes are replenished… We all seem to affect this air like we don't know that disaster is around the corner. We have this stupid feast, for the left-over students when the teachers leave suddenly pretending that their just going for a stroll when it's plain as day that they're meeting again to discuss what's going to happen when war does erupted. But here we are eating sausages and pretending like all life is Quiditch and cupcakes-"
He stopped suddenly, laughing harshly. "I'm sorry Gin. You have to forgive. I'm not showing much for holiday cheer am I? Ha- well never mind…. it's just that… everything feels so wrong. Not ruined but just…. wrong."
"I know," she said her mind drifting far away from him. "It's like--- like a potion that's missing one ounce of some ingredient. It's not much but it's the difference between a one that works and one that turns your tongue blue."
"Yes, like ALL of my potions turn out," mumbled Neville with a snort of laughter. He picked at his food some but didn't eat anything. Finally determined to make something out of the conversation he said, "I saw you last night. You looked very pretty. And you danced well too, everyone noticed-" Ginny gulped "-And everyone thought you looked ---- different. But you left so suddenly."
Ginny felt her body tense. She tried to hide it by taking a sudden gulp of her pumpkin juice.
Neville continued, not noticing her distress, "Yes that color you had on was nice. And I think you've put on weight."
Without meaning to Ginny choked a little on her juice. Neville looked up and gasped. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way!" He thought she was upset about the comment. "I mean come on Ginny, you're a stick! I just meant that you filled out a little and I think you need it?" The last sentence come out like a question. Neville raked his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm such a blooming idiot…look I swear on Merlin's beard that I meant it as a compliment."
Ginny laughed out right at his fumbling. It was like having the old Neville back. She gave him as warm a smile as she could muster and said, "Neville don't worry about it. I know what you meant. I'm not upset! Now eat your eggs like a good boy…. You've been picking at them for the best part of fifteen minutes. Just put them in your mouth a chew."
Neville grunted. "I'm not hungry," he said stabbing at the eggs and sausages. Ginny looked at him thoughtfully then said, "You know, YOU have lost a lot of weight, Neville. Be careful or you'll end up as skinny as Ron."
Surprisingly Neville's face darkened. "I know," he said in a strange far away voice. "It's Grandma's fault you know. She used to stuff me. 'You're a growing boy,' she'd say 'You need to eat.'"
Ginny winced. She hadn't meant to bring up any more bad memories for him. But Neville was now in a world of his own. "And you know what was worst? She was a horrible cook. Everything she made tasted like sand. But I had to lick my plate clean or else get a licking for the waste. Like she thought a layer of fat would protect me from---"
But then his voice faltered completely and he choked back a sob. Ginny winced again filled with sympathy for Neville, the slow steady one that everybody trod on. Unconsciously she offered him a hand. Neville leaned forward to hug her in comfort, too caught up in his own pain to see her face. Just as his arms embraced her he felt her push him suddenly away. He pulled back startled to see Ginny jump up, pale and terrified, her face so white it looked like she would faint.
"Don't touch me!" she said shrilly, her voice cracking to a high-pitched whisper. "Please don't touch me!"
As Ginny stood there trembling she saw the reality of what had happened. Neville looked lost and hurt not understanding her in the least and those who had heard her were staring at her blankly and whispering. Out of some involuntary movement she shifted her gaze and looked right at Draco Malfoy. He was calm with a cool unreadable expression on his face. His eyes flashed for a moment but he didn't move. Ginny felt her stomach turn… she had ruined everything. Burying her face in her hands, she shook her head and fled the room muttering "I'm sorry," under her breath.
Draco watched her go and felt his gut twist painfully. 'All we need now is for Voldemort to rise up and complete this perfect Christmas,' he thought with acid sarcasm. He was reminding of the time his mother had taken him by the shoulders as a boy her face swollen with bruise from her abusive husband. "Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Expect it Draco and be prepared." Well he'd be prepared. He guessed where she was head and tried to think of a way he could get there before she could.
Snorting suddenly he said, 'Happy Christmas,' with cold cynical smile. He'd wait till the whispering died down and then he'd go. Today was going to be a long day.
Okay: Next ch. Mostly Ginny and Draco. Neville's not going to play a big role in this but I thought he deserved a scene. I'm not English but I'll try and keep American phrases out of this. and Sorry about any grammar mistakes.
Okay this is the sequel to Silver Scars. When I wrote SS I had no intention of writing a sequel but a lot of people asked for one so here it is at last. This will be longer than SS but hopefully worth it. Romance? Yes some but the main idea of this story is Ginny, Draco and Harry finding their place in each other's lives. I'm going to try to get a better characterization on both Draco and Harry so criticize me all you want, I need it. The beginning is kind of gory but I promise it shouldn't get much worse. Also the fragility of Ginny's character is Temporary. She'll improve I promise.
WARNING: This story contains self-abuse. I don\t want to frighten, encourage or offend anyone, so be warned.
FINALLY: THANK YOU to all the people who reviewed… you guys are the reason I'm writing this.
Try to breathe
Memories over taking me...
Try to face them
But the thought is too much to concieve...
(Fade: Staind)
Her consciousness swam forward, fighting towards the light like a swimmer in deep water trying to reach air. Pushing through the swamp of her unconsciousness she fought forward, reaching… and suddenly she was awake. Ginny sat up dizzily, warm in her bed, safe in the Gryffindor dorm room. This was the way she woke up every morning… so why did it feel so very wrong? Shaking her tangled hair out of her face she pushed the covers away from her body.
Suddenly she froze. She wasn't in her plain cotton nightgown. She was in the tattered remains of her once pretty dress designed for the Yule Ball… and her arms were covered in half healed scars, recently closed and starting to itch terribly. Scratches, not cuts. Random not planned like her scars…
With out warning the previous night's events hit her in a whirlwind that left her sick and dizzy. The dance, Goyle, her trek through the forbidden forest. Harry. Draco. Clutching her stomach desperately she wondered for a moment what terrified her more…the fact that Harry knew her secret or that she had spent the night crying in Draco's arms.
Then she looked at her dress. Shredded from the brambles of the Forbidden Forest she started blankly down at her ruined handy work. She had looked pretty last night, which was rare. People had noticed. Goyle had noticed. Ginny's head fell forward in swift nausea. She rushed down the stairs to the bathroom were she barely made it to the toilet before she started retching into the porcelain bowl. No sooner had the first bout passed then she threw up again, though this time nothing but acid and bile came that burned her mouth and throat raw. 'I can't live like this' she thought desperately, tears running down her pale face.
She looked dejectedly at her skin, her eyes tracing over her body wearily. Weak and shaking on the toilet bowl she caught sight of a little tear in her dress. One that was not made by the thorns in the forest. One that was made by Gregory Goyle's slimy hands sliding down her waist. And she could see it. In her mind's eye she could see his hands and the look in his eye as he defiled her body. Containing nothing more for her body to vomit forth, she bolted up trembling.
"I'm filthy. I'm covered in his filth." Her voice started to quiver. "I have to get clean," she rasped, "I have to get clean."
Frantic, she made her way to the bathtubs. She found her own, lined with what she could afford of soap and sponge. Mindlessly she turned on the water until it streamed forward hot and inviting. Ginny ignored the second-degree burns she was receiving from the scalding water. Hot was good. Hot water would get her clean again.
Ginny grabbed a sponge and began to lather up ignoring the stinging that rippled across her skin as she ripped open half healed scratches with her violent scrubbing. She scrubbed her entire body until her skin tingled, than she rinsed herself carefully. She was still trembling, her mind in complete turmoil, when she gasped. She could still see it. His filth was still on her skin! She felt hysteria rising like bile in her throat, but she caught herself. Laughing harshly she found herself repeating what her mother often said, "If it's not clean, wash it. If it's still not clean then wash it again!"
So she washed and scrubbed until her skin blistered under her touch. Ginny pulled at her hair and tore at her skin, the intense feeling of helplessness overwhelming her. It was still there she realized as unfelt tears began to roll again down her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't escape the grime he had tainted her with. Grime and shame. It was still there and there was only one way for her to get rid of it.
Standing up shakily she stepped out of the bathtub, slipping a little on the cold tile floor. She went to the small cupboard where she was allowed to keep some of her things, toothbrush, combs, soap…etc. Her knife wasn't there she knew… it was still lost in the owlery tower, but she still had a tiny razor …
'If I can't clean it off, I'll cut it out,' she thought desperately. As soon as she made the decision a strange eerie calm settled in her. This would work. It would have to, because she couldn't live and see his hands on her body forever. She'd go insane.
As Ginny settled back into the slowly cooling water, she was still oblivious to the tears on her face or the pain shooting over her skin. Without closing her eyes she touch the tiny razor to her arm. Her flesh was soft and wet from an hour's soaking and the blade sliced easily and dangerously over it, leaving a trail thin red blood. She was in complete mental chaos, but in some center in her head she went over every part of her that Goyle had touched and slashed until the sight of her blood wiped out the memory or his hands. The steel touched, tasted and slashed itself over her arms, stomach, waist and breasts. It sliced mercilessly over her skin… little lace cuts where only his fingers had been; deep, wide gashes where his palms had slid down…
She was in pain, blessed pain. It crept over her at first but then it released a floodgate, showering over her nervous system. Peace. With her mind drenched in her self-made harm she couldn't think of anything else. She couldn't feel anything else. Goyle was lost in a sea of pain floating aimlessly in the pink water of the bathtub.
"Ginny? Ginny, are you in there?"
She froze.
"Ginny, come on, it's Neville. I don't mean to bother, but the Christmas feast is starting and you should be there!"
Shaking herself stiffly out of her trance she said, "I- I'm not… Not very hungry---" her voice sounded brittle and thin "---- Just go on with out me."
She heard his feet shuffle idly outside the door. "But Gin, people are asking for you. And---" his voice dropped and faltered a bit "Ginny, it's lonely down there."
Ginny let her head roll back slowly. This was Neville's first year to be left at Hogwarts for the holidays. Two years before his grandmother had been killed at the beginning of Voldemort's vicious up rising. Even after the very temporary defeat and his withdrawal to build stronger armies, Neville having lost both parents and Grandmother to villain was near frantic. Then his Great uncle died leaving him orphaned. That had been the last blow. All his energy, personality and chumminess had drained away like tap water. He was lonely and miserable and now he was asking for her help to get through his first Christmas alone. How could she refuse?
"Okay, Neville, I'll be down in a minute--- Just give me some time to get ready. I-I'll be down soon."
His voice clearly brightened. "Okay. I'll go ahead, but don't take to long."
Broken from her stricken state she raised quickly form the bathtub… and gasped. The water was pink and she bleeding everywhere. Blood ran freely down her stomach, chest and thighs.
"Oh, no," she whispered as she pulled a towel around herself and dried off. She was still bleeding as she wrapped herself in bathrobe (maroon, an old one of Ron's), even though the smaller cuts had tapered off. Opening the door carefully she was relieved to see that Neville was gone and could not the blood winding down her ankles. Quietly she made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, stopping to clean any blood spots that dripped on the way.
Back in the dorm room Ginny knew she was in trouble. Staring at her naked body in the mirror she felt herself begin to laugh hysterically.
"Cutting is control," she spoke to her wet and blood soak reflection. "Control over pain that will kill you if you don't release it. And here I am bleeding to death. If I die on my knife it will be the sorriest joke in the school. The point is to live not die!!" She collapsed on the bed willing the bleeding on her stomach and arms to stop. It didn't. "I've butchered myself," she whispered to the mirror.
The mirror twisted suddenly into a face. "Deary, " it said comfortably. "You'd best get yourself cleaned up or else get to infirmary. You don't look well from what I'm seeing."
"I'll be fine, mirror," she lied. " It will take some work, but DAMNED it all I'm going to be fine."
As the face in the mirror vanished, Ginny called on hidden reserves of Weasely strength. Healing charms were few; magic relied more on potions and balms than spells to heal hurts. What she knew she spoke carefully and then she took out the robes she would wear for breakfast. Carefully she put a charm on them that would make nothing stain them. It was her mother's favorite especially when the twins had to look nice for an event. "Nothing can get passed this," her mother would say, "Not pumpkin juice, toffee, raspberry soda…" or blood she thought grimly.
Dressed she brushed her hair back in quick ponytail and worked on a practice face for the crowd. Shuddering at the thought of the trial before her she stood and left the room.
Hell was just around the corner.
When she entered the great hall the first thing she saw was Neville red and trembling, cowering under the cold gaze of Draco Malfoy. For one long moment her heart stopped beating. Then she slowly took in the scene in front of her.
"So, stuck here in jolly old Hogwarts, this year Neville, or was it Snivel? I do keep forgetting… you know considering how long you've been molding in the place it's amazing how practically no one notices you."
Neville stuttered angrily, "Sh-shove off Malfoy, don't you have a first-year you can pick on?"
"Oh well you see Neville," Draco answered laughing "The First-years actually have spines… you're a much easier target and I'm feeling lazy this morning. You're even more green than usual. Don't tell me you're missing Granny Vulture?"
That was apparently the last straw. Neville grabbed his wand and shouted the first curse that came to mind. But Malfoy was too quick for him. Before Neville had uttered the words, which he slurred slightly in anger, Malfoy had cast a reflection spell that sent the curse flying back at Neville. There was flash…and then and eruption of laughter as the smoke cleared and Neville was revealed with flaming pink hair and warts slowly spreading across his face.
Ginny's heart went out to him. Whatever had happen last night, Malfoy was still viscous and goading Neville about his Grandmother was subhuman. She walked into the hall trying to see why the professors weren't stopping this whole. Then she realized they weren't there. They must have already finished and left… which would explain why everyone was restless. Malfoy was still doubled over laughing at Neville's now swollen face when she came quietly between them.
Lifting her wand she muttered the counter-curse over Neville, which quickly made his hair color die down and his warts fade. Making sure to avoided eye contact with Draco she sat down and bade Neville to site beside her.
As soon as he saw her Draco froze. She looked awful…terribly stiff and the way she walked alerted him that something was wrong. Damn. He was stuck with Crabbe tailing him like a whipped dog and a hall full of people. Still sneering he sat down, keeping a hidden eye on her.
Neville sat down trembling as Ginny tried to calm him. "I hate him.. I hate him sooo much! It's him and his kind that killed everything I loved! I wish he would just die and put us all out of our misery." Ginny knew better than to say anything. Some pains were too great to argue with or sympathize or even pity.
"Let it go Neville. Ignore him if you can. I know it's hard but try," she said softly. Neville snapped up to say something but the sight of her made him stop. She look drawn, tired and weary, her damp hair pulled back in an ugly pony tail that was not at all attractive for her face. He mentally shrugged, mildly surprised. The night before she had look very pretty. 'Perhaps all that dancing wore her out,' he thought.
Ginny picked lifelessly at her food. "Where were you last night," she asked. "I didn't see you."
Neville snorted. "Oh I was there, playing my traditional role as the Gryffindor Wall Flower. I just love how this school insists on putting on these ridiculous dances when everybody knows that the Dark Lord is just hiding until his troupes are replenished… We all seem to affect this air like we don't know that disaster is around the corner. We have this stupid feast, for the left-over students when the teachers leave suddenly pretending that their just going for a stroll when it's plain as day that they're meeting again to discuss what's going to happen when war does erupted. But here we are eating sausages and pretending like all life is Quiditch and cupcakes-"
He stopped suddenly, laughing harshly. "I'm sorry Gin. You have to forgive. I'm not showing much for holiday cheer am I? Ha- well never mind…. it's just that… everything feels so wrong. Not ruined but just…. wrong."
"I know," she said her mind drifting far away from him. "It's like--- like a potion that's missing one ounce of some ingredient. It's not much but it's the difference between a one that works and one that turns your tongue blue."
"Yes, like ALL of my potions turn out," mumbled Neville with a snort of laughter. He picked at his food some but didn't eat anything. Finally determined to make something out of the conversation he said, "I saw you last night. You looked very pretty. And you danced well too, everyone noticed-" Ginny gulped "-And everyone thought you looked ---- different. But you left so suddenly."
Ginny felt her body tense. She tried to hide it by taking a sudden gulp of her pumpkin juice.
Neville continued, not noticing her distress, "Yes that color you had on was nice. And I think you've put on weight."
Without meaning to Ginny choked a little on her juice. Neville looked up and gasped. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way!" He thought she was upset about the comment. "I mean come on Ginny, you're a stick! I just meant that you filled out a little and I think you need it?" The last sentence come out like a question. Neville raked his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm such a blooming idiot…look I swear on Merlin's beard that I meant it as a compliment."
Ginny laughed out right at his fumbling. It was like having the old Neville back. She gave him as warm a smile as she could muster and said, "Neville don't worry about it. I know what you meant. I'm not upset! Now eat your eggs like a good boy…. You've been picking at them for the best part of fifteen minutes. Just put them in your mouth a chew."
Neville grunted. "I'm not hungry," he said stabbing at the eggs and sausages. Ginny looked at him thoughtfully then said, "You know, YOU have lost a lot of weight, Neville. Be careful or you'll end up as skinny as Ron."
Surprisingly Neville's face darkened. "I know," he said in a strange far away voice. "It's Grandma's fault you know. She used to stuff me. 'You're a growing boy,' she'd say 'You need to eat.'"
Ginny winced. She hadn't meant to bring up any more bad memories for him. But Neville was now in a world of his own. "And you know what was worst? She was a horrible cook. Everything she made tasted like sand. But I had to lick my plate clean or else get a licking for the waste. Like she thought a layer of fat would protect me from---"
But then his voice faltered completely and he choked back a sob. Ginny winced again filled with sympathy for Neville, the slow steady one that everybody trod on. Unconsciously she offered him a hand. Neville leaned forward to hug her in comfort, too caught up in his own pain to see her face. Just as his arms embraced her he felt her push him suddenly away. He pulled back startled to see Ginny jump up, pale and terrified, her face so white it looked like she would faint.
"Don't touch me!" she said shrilly, her voice cracking to a high-pitched whisper. "Please don't touch me!"
As Ginny stood there trembling she saw the reality of what had happened. Neville looked lost and hurt not understanding her in the least and those who had heard her were staring at her blankly and whispering. Out of some involuntary movement she shifted her gaze and looked right at Draco Malfoy. He was calm with a cool unreadable expression on his face. His eyes flashed for a moment but he didn't move. Ginny felt her stomach turn… she had ruined everything. Burying her face in her hands, she shook her head and fled the room muttering "I'm sorry," under her breath.
Draco watched her go and felt his gut twist painfully. 'All we need now is for Voldemort to rise up and complete this perfect Christmas,' he thought with acid sarcasm. He was reminding of the time his mother had taken him by the shoulders as a boy her face swollen with bruise from her abusive husband. "Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Expect it Draco and be prepared." Well he'd be prepared. He guessed where she was head and tried to think of a way he could get there before she could.
Snorting suddenly he said, 'Happy Christmas,' with cold cynical smile. He'd wait till the whispering died down and then he'd go. Today was going to be a long day.
Okay: Next ch. Mostly Ginny and Draco. Neville's not going to play a big role in this but I thought he deserved a scene. I'm not English but I'll try and keep American phrases out of this. and Sorry about any grammar mistakes.