Harry Potter 1. Howl

I do not own Harry Potter or the the referenced songs.

He lies in the grass under the old oak, dozing lazily in the heavy, hot summerafternoon air, listening to the buzzing bees watching the bumblebees tumble by. He caught a glimpse of flashing red, scarlet, love red, anger red, lust red, fury red, ruby red hair, flaming and burning into his mind. The rays of sunlight jumping through the roof of leaves and falling onto the scarlet strands, dances on her head and into his eyes.

Her face is veiled from his eyes, but he knows her brown eyes are gazing onto her sketch book, staring without seeing.

The afternoon buzzes lazily around him and he decides to get up.

She sits under the weeping willow, in the soft velvety moss, feeling the heavy afternoon pressing down on her, she tries to draw the lake, this mass of cool, steel grey and anthracite, mirror-slick, still water, but her hands will not move. She senses the prickle of his eyes, staring at her hair, though she doesn't know it is him. In her minds eye she sees emerald eyes staring at her, gem stones behind glass, like jewels in a museum, but she doesn't wish for jewels, she longs for cold, metal, grey. She also never liked jet black, raven hair, it always made her think of death, and these emerald jewel eyes to her were frogs.

What she needs are those mercury eyes and their cold, unmelting, motionless metal gaze and strands of platinum and silver, with a tinge of gold or sometimes even plain white, depending on the lighting, she always watches him, she knows him in all shades of white and grey.

She has always watched him, longing, lusting ad yearning for him - the boy who bullied her family and friends.

She hears footsteps approaching lazy and tense, she still can't move and she doesn't even want to, the afternoon still pushes her down.

He walks toward the radiating love red of her hair and all his thoughts are hotness and lusting want, even love, he adores her physique. He simply needs to have her.

His head full of heavy thoughts he reaches out to her, crouching down, he marvels at how close he is to her. She stirs and he whispers: 'Ginger girl.', she jerks out of her revelry, eyes bolting up at him.

"Draco-er Malfoy, what do you want?" she asks feigning contempt.

"Depends, what can I get from you?", he smirks.

"Everything", she thinks but remains still.

He feels drawn to her and gives in to the urge of leaning closer, his hands twitch, he wants to feel her peach soft, silk white skin. Her cheeks glow a rosy red and places a hand on her jaw, feeling her warmth vibrating through him. It makes him buzz like the afternoon bees and thirsty for the refreshing wetness of her delicious, lush, lips. He kisses her, softly, searching, feathery and full of care. He braces himself for the blow of rejection that never comes, she avidly, eagerly responds.

Gaining confidence he traces her throat with his lips and tongue down to her collarbone, tasting every inch, sucking her collarbones, driving his teeth over her throat, biting her cautiously, nibbling her earlobes.

She moans as he places his hands on her waist. She is mesmerised by the way his touch makes her body hum, she lifts her hands up to his neck, pulling his head closer, stroking along his neck, his broad shoulders and down to his muscular, warm chest.

She grabs his shirt, pulling it up to see the bare skin of his torso, it doesn't look like marble, it reminds her of white sand.

She inches her head forward to smell his skin and trace his chest muscles with her tongue. He tastes salty and sweet and hot.

She groans and unbuttons his shirt, gingerly at first, gaining confidence with every button that reveals his perfect skin. He moans slowly pushing her blouse open and off her shoulders, undressing her like a rag doll.

Her breathing gets heavier as she opens his belt and then his trousers with shaking hands,she wants him, she has always wanted only him.

He gets more and more frantic, yanking down her skirt without even bothering with her zipper, pushing down her panties to trace the wet slit of her cunt with his long, knobby index finger.

She swiftly pulls down his trousers and boxer shorts, she is so needy, she doesn't even bother to take in the sight of him, naked, with a throbbing hard erection, in front of her, she wants him too close to see.

His slate eyes drink in the vision of her naked body, but she doesn't allow him to quench his thirst, pulling him into her. She has hungered for him too long, there will be enough time to look once she has sated the beast with in her. She feels her chest tighten with the need to own him, feel him and be felt, she bites into his shoulder, screaming as he pushes his cock inside her.

He feels her wetness surround his hard penis, the walls of her pussy clenching and unclenching in arousal. When she bites him, he stifles a scream and in turn bites into her hard nipple and grabs her wrists, pinning them over her head.

His sudden violence sends her over the edge, for a split second she floats in space, the world ceased to exist, all that is are their sweating bodies pressed against and into each other. Then the world comes back and she screams his name, howling at the moonbeam that is his hair. Her uhs, ahs and ohs ring in her ear so loud, she is sure the whole castle must have heard them, but she does not really care.

"Draco" she breathes out, looking straight into his eyes, "let me suck your dick, I want to taste your cum." He lets go of her wrist, lifting his body off her and lying down on his back.

Within a second she has his throbbing cock in her mouth, licking of her juices, enjoying the control she has over him, her tongue twirls around his erection, sucking, licking and kissing. A few drops of his juice spill into her mouth, she savours them, enjoying his taste. With a swift motion she is on him again, riding to his release, orgasming a second time herself.

"Ginevra." he moans softly as she snuggles into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I want to do this again." she pants and he kisses her softly in response.

They lie in each others arms for some time before deciding to clean each other from their intermingled juices and getting dressed again, but afterwards they can't bring themselves to get up and return to the castle.

They spend the remainder of the buzzing hot afternoon under the weeping willow, dozing too tired to talk or care for anything in the afternoon ticks away into a lazy, muggy evening, the bumblebees stop tumbling and the bees stop buzzing. The crickets come clittering out and the light blue sky turns from light blue to all shades of sunset and then night blue.

"Thank Merlin it's Friday." Ginny says, breaking the drowsy silence.

"Yes, thank Merlin. I don't want to be in there right now." he says, yawning.

"I never even dared to believe I would talk to you one day, let alone...this." Ginny mumbles more to herself than to Draco, still he answers, "Do you remember the year before your first? When you saw your brother off to Hogwarts?"

"How could I forget?"

"That was the first time I noticed you, you were so cute and tiny and then before the start of your first year, at "Flourish & Blott's", you stood up to me and I was baffled, I had never ever experienced that. That was the moment when I decided that one day you'd be mine. All mine. My world was shattered when I saw you moon for Scarhead, but then one day I caught you staring at me and since then I saw you looking at me a million times."

Ginny is mortified, "So you knew I had a crush on you all this time? Why did you never let me know somehow?"

"I wasn't sure. I was so convinced that you wanted Pothead, I didn't even dare to think otherwise and I am not brave and I don't usually risk humiliation, you should know that."

"Me and Harry...tsk!" Ginny snorts, "I had a crush on him when I was small, when I didn't even know him. I could never be with him, though my family, especially my dear mother, would be over the moon with glee."

"But why me?" Draco inquires genuinely curious.

"Because, well, first the obvious things: you look good and you are intelligent."

"You wound me, I don't look good, I am incredibly handsome and you forgot to mention that I am also mind-bogglingly awesome in bed and extremely rich." he says and pouts.

"I don't care for your money and I didn't know how skilled you are in pleasing women, before today, but yes you do not look "good", you are totally, tantalisingly stunning, if that's ego stroking enough. Now the less obvious reasons why I like you: I actually find most of your remarks, even when they are directed at my family, quite funny, though I find the ones directed at others and especially Harry, funnier."

"You do?" he asks incredulously.

"Why, yes and my brother and Harry deserve them most of the time and though I think 'mudblood' is a really mean insult and I hate when you use it, I can understand why you don't like Hermione, I love her like a sister, but that girl can drive you crazy."

"You still didn't tell me why you like me most of all the guys in this castle, Ginevra."

"Because I feel that we are similar, we both have something dark inside of us, I have it from being possessed by the diary in my first year...And you...I don't know and still you didn't turn into a mess, like Neville or Harry. I know losing your parents is something that scars you beyond repair, but having parents can scar you too and sometimes your parents don't have anything to do with your scars and still it hurts and you are broken forever. You can't even imagine what Riddle did to me... I didn't want to rant." she feels like she has said too much.

Who even knows if she can trust him? But then, he sits here, talking to her, not caring whether anyone sees them, so she decides to trust him, after all she just had sex with him, why should he humiliate her now when he had so many better chances a short while ago.

He doesn't know how to respond to this, he knew before that Voldemort's memory had possessed her and that his father was responsible, but somehow he had always managed to keep himself from thinking about how bad it must have scarred her.

"I'm sorry." he chokes out, his chest tight, a dense lump forming in his throat and kisses her on her head.

"Don't be, it's not your fault and somehow I think that in a weird, sick way, the diary helped me, because without it, I would still be little Ginny, who believes that her parents are perfect and can do no wrong and whatever they want me to do is right and has to be done."

"Really? What did your parents do that made you so angry?"

"Yes, really. After Harry and Ron had saved me from the chamber my parents sent me to St. Mungo's and they left me there for a whole month, without visiting me once, I was eleven and so scared. The healers made me tell the story over and over again and mucked up my mind even more. When I came home my mother told me, 'Now that the healers have made you right again and ensured that you are not dangerous, let us never mention this incident again!', and then Harry came to visit and I was forgotten." Ginny feels tears begin to fall from her eyes, a few at first, then more and more till they form raging currents on her cheeks.

Draco feels uncomfortable, he doesn't want her to cry, he doesn't want her to feel pain and he doesn't want this evening to end like that, but above all he hates that he can't do anything, besides holding her. To his surprise, Ginny gets herself together after mere minutes, conjuring a tissue and declaring,

"That's enough, no more tears for them! I didn't mean to spoil the evening. I am hungry and we must have missed dinner. Care to take a trip to the kitchen with me" Draco gladly complies, feeling his stomach growl on cue.


	2. Remain Nameless

A/N: I don't own the song and I don't own Harry Potter, if I did there would be no Epilogue of Doom, I wouldn't need to write fan fiction and I would most likely have a lot more money.

_I wish to remain nameless  
and live without shame  
'cause what's in a name, oh  
I still remain the same _

The next morning she wakes up to the sound of teenage girl's laughter, chiming in her ears. She sits up slowly, gingerly, feeling battered and bruised. Looking at her wrist she sees that she really is bruised, but she is not annoyed at all. She is happy, the blueish purple and yellow marks remind her of yesterday, a physical remainder of him. Still she decides to use a glamour charm on them, she can't very well tell anyone how she has gotten them.

She inwardly laughs at the idea of telling Ron, "Oh the bruises? They're from Draco, he shagged me silly under the weeping willow by the lake yesterday!"

Surely her brother would turn his usual best beet, anger red. If she told Harry or - Merlin forbid - Hermione, she'd be plagued and pestered with questions like "Does he have a Dark Mark?" or "Why would he do that? He must be planning something!".

Plus Hermione would tell her how degrading it is for a woman to be held by her wrists during sex. Then again, the stunned, shocked expressions on their paralysed faces would be priceless, but she happily gives up on seeing these faces to keep this her secret. Like a precious gem stored away, meant only for her eyes to caress and dwell on.

She gets up, grumbling and groaning, pulling back her bed curtains.

"Hey! Sleeping Beauty finally decided to get up. Good afternoon Ginny!"

"Morning." she grumbles, not caring who talks to her or what they say. It is all so unimportant. Her mind is blank and full of noise, no coherence, no clarity. Just swirls of colour floating around: grey, white, beige, green, red. Chaotic and disoriented random flashes that appear and start to fade the same instant.

She stumbles into the shower, still sleep heavy and bed warm. She turns on the cold water, trying to cool away the mugginess in her head.

He hasn't slept at all, her voice, her moans and presence still ringing in his ears, turning from Dooms Day bells to twittering birds and back. He still can't grasp what happened: he had wanted her - longed for her and today or maybe even yesterday already, his dreams came true, didn't they?

"What am I to her? And what is she to me?" he wonders, unable to pursue a train of thought, his thoughts running in circles.

He can't solve the puzzle, for now, so he decides to handle it like a Malfoy: smirking and proud. After all there is no way to see the picture in a puzzle that misses too many pieces.

He ponders his way into the Great Hall and through his late breakfast, not even noticing that he still has only her in his head. What does she think? Will she be in the Great Hall as well? Does he want her to be there? What does it even matter?

When he opens the heavy doors of the castle, the damp summer day presses into him, like she did yesterday. The bees are buzzing again, the bumblebees still tumble through the air and the day simmers and sings with heat. His heart hums and he walks to the weeping willow under which he found her yesterday. It looks like it always did, the boughs of the tree caress the slick surface of the lake, the moss green as yesterday and the insects still dance through the thick air. Only yesterday it was afternoon, today it is still morning. He sits down leans against the stem of the old tree and dozes off.

She sits in the Great Hall forcing herself to eat, her back still hurts and everything else does too. Her stomach twists, for some reason the mashed potatoes taste like mashed Daily Prophets garnished with Filch's fingernails. She leaves the table to soak in the summer daylight.

She will just take a trip to the kitchen again, later... For now she'll go to the willow again, her willow. In her head she calls the place her faery cathedral, because when she lay under the willow for the first time a faery had danced through the boughs of the tree, jingling joyously.

She steps into the sun and walks straight to the weeping willow hoping to either find him there or be found by him.

She reaches the tree and pulls back the thick strands of pointy, dark green leaves that shield the place like bed curtains. She sees him dozing, a faery prince with silver hair.

"Kitschy" she thinks, yet her eyes feast on the sight, golden lights dancing in silver hair, well defined lips totally relaxed as he lounges there. She tiptoes to him, kneeling down and then feather softly she kisses his temple.

"Hello Ginger Girl." he murmurs, not moving, eyes still closed.

"Hello Faery Prince!" she giggles and snuggles up to him. Like yesterday she feels his warmth vibrate through her.

"I love this place, I always come here and yet nobody ever finds me. I even saw faeries dancing here one evening." she chatters away, a soft breeze stroking her cheek and Draco puts his arm around her shoulder to pull her even closer.

"Maybe this is their place. Faeries sometimes use their magic to keep humans away from their favourite places."

'But I always come here, why don't they keep me away?'

"I don't know, maybe they like you? We have a birch near our lake that houses a few faeries. My mother once wanted to have tea under it, but the faeries didn't like that, so they stole mother's teapot. A particularly brave one even bit my father. However they seem like me, they never disturb me when I sit there."

He is confused, just moments ago he had felt so unsure, vowing to himself to ask her a million questions, but now he just feels calm and satisfied, sated even.

"We only have gnomes, but they're kind of funny, pessimistic, walking potatoes. When they bite you, you get infected with intelligence. Sadly that doesn't last. I'd be smarter than Hermione and Dumbledore combined." she wonders if maybe the faeries really charmed this place, she feels strangely safe and all these swirling thoughts have disappeared.

"Maybe your brother should let them bite him more often." he remarks snidely.

"Which one?" she dismissively inquires.

"Oh I'm sure they all could use that, but I was referring to the clod-pole I have to bear in Potions. Why do Gryffs always suck at Potions?"

"Snape plain and simple hates us!"

"Can you blame him? Longbottom and Weasel King must blow up the entire stock of reserve cauldrons at least once. Then again at least Hogwarts always has brand new cauldrons."

Ginny laughs.

"Okay, yes Neville and Ron are really bad at Potions and I wouldn't want to be their teacher, but Snape can really be an arse."

"Ginevra, what are we?" Draco suddenly inquires, remembering the question that has bothered him through the night and the better part of the morning.

"We are we. I am me, you are you and we're a witch and a wizard." she answers only half serious.

"No, really. What is this? What happened yesterday?" he is puzzled, happy but puzzled. Like when you get even better Christmas presents than expected. Not that he has ever gotten any bad Christmas presents, he's just not used to life being better than he ever dared to dream.

"I have no idea what happened, but I know I like it. Do we really have to name this? What if we give this a name that doesn't fit? What if we call this love and then find out we were just fools? I don't want to load this with expectations that will only break it, it's just too precious. Or what if we call it a fling and break it because the name doesn't warn us to be careful with it? We are two people that found each other under a beautiful, most likely faery charmed, weeping willow. That's all for now." she's afraid, she knows he won't understand how she means it and storm off.

He doesn't leave. He doesn't even move.

He, again, decides to handle the situation like a Malfoy should, collect information and then make the best of it. Right now it doesn't seem like this could hurt him, well not too much at any rate, and it feels good. Malfoy's don't let go of things that feel good, or something like that.

"So we are a "we"." he clarifies, "does that mean no other partners?"

"That is entirely your choice. Let this remain nameless and give it a chance to grow. What that means for you is up to you" She had given this a little thought this morning or rather midday in the shower. Her jumbled, scattered thoughts came up with only one conclusion. Calling is love or dating is too much, calling this a fling is too little and putting a name on it would ruin it anyway, she decided while the water washed out her mind.

For now she just wants to know where it leads them. Maybe this evolves into a relationship, maybe just friendship or maybe after a while they will find out that they don't want anything to do with each other. She is glad that he seems to understand.

"Then we will just see what happens when we are alone?" he says, accentuating the words by opening her blouse.

"Yes, it's a little like a potions experiment." she shifts a little, bringing her hands to his chest. Argentine eyes eye her as she traces the veins of their grey marble with her brown ones. Her blouse is open, slender hands unfasten her bra and strip her upper body naked. She opens his shirt swiftly and presses her lips to his perfectly pure skin, inhaling him, tasting him, biting him to mark him.

He tastes just like yesterday, salty and sweet, sweaty musk on her tongue.

He grabs her by the shoulders pulling her head up to kiss her. His lips nibble on hers, sucking each other in and out, savouring the softness of the other.

She straddles him and the bulge in his pants rubs against her crotch, his arousal becomes even more pronounced. She likes being on top, his body begging for the mercy of release, his hands gliding over her as far as he can reach. She arches into his touch as his fingers leave pleasantly tingling trails on her skin.

He opens her skirt, pulls it over her head and then vanishes her knickers. She gracefully gets up, pulling him with her by his buckle.

"These pants need to come off. All of your remaining clothes need to come off!"

He subjects to her demands, but still makes sure to gain the upper hand. Finally naked he pushes her against the stem of the willow. One big, pale hand holds her hands by the wrists and pins them over her head. The other hand wanders from her lips to her neck, softly touching her. His gaze follows his fingers between her breasts, over her navel. She wants these fingers between her legs, but they trail to her hipbone and down to her thighs.

"Does my Ginger Girl like that?" he smirks and drawls, tauntingly.

"Yes." she hisses, 'don't be a tease.' she squirms and moans.

"Oh Ginevra, don't be cheeky. I am in charge now and I will take my time."

His hand massages her thigh, slowly working back to her hipbone. He stops massaging her delicately brushing his hands over her quim, ever so softly tracing her slit. She gets too aroused to bear, the sight of his erect penis, his smell and the teasing touches.

"Are you wet?" he taunts her, a vicious smile on his beautiful lips.

"Yes." she hisses through clenched teeth, she can't form words now. She can only think of how bad she wants him inside her.

"Let me check." he pushes his long index finger into her wet sex, all the way up and then slowly withdraws it.

"Not wet enough." he tells her and lays his hand to her lips to give her a taste of herself.

Then he takes his wand from the hand that clamps her wrists and utters a Sticking Charm.

He tucks his wand under a root and then walks towards her trembling, squirming body. Her petite form pressed flush against the stem of the old tree delights his eyes and his hands reach out to touch the milky cream skin of her delicate neck. She shivers and moans as his fingers wander from her neck to her breasts.

"Draco, stop playing and untie me, please!" she can't take his games any longer, she needs him. Now!

He slowly picks up his wand and says, "Finite Incantatem."

She slowly lowers her arms waiting for him, but he doesn't move. She sinks down, her legs can no longer support her.

"Draco, please..." she whispers.

'What my little Ginger Girl? Say what you want from me.' he won't make this too easy for her, he enjoys seeing her beg for him. He loves the power he holds over her, after all these years when she held so much power over him and didn't even know it.

"Please, fuck me. Now!" she moans out.

He obliges, slowly pushing his cock inside her, causing her to wrap her arms around his toned body and push him in faster. No space between them and still they try to get closer, devouring each other. They rush towards release, needy and dreading the moment when they will have to withdraw from each other. It is inevitable though and she reaches the peak only seconds before he comes, both panting in a joined rhythm. Reluctantly they part, trying to remain close

"Let's go eat something before we fall asleep again. I'm starving." Draco says, his breath still ragged, sweating and exhausted, getting up to scrougify them and get dressed again.

"Give me a minute." Ginny replies sleepily, she feels drained of energy unable to move, not even the prospect of food makes her want to stir, even though she is more hungry than she has been for ages.

He turns and drags her up.

"Come on, move a little, you will feel more awake in a few minutes. And I am starving, I need some food."

She slowly dresses, grunting in annoyance when she realises that her knickers are gone, but she is too tired and languid to complain.

They walk to the Castle, a few feet between them, when the get in the coolness of the air inside the heavy walls relieves them and Ginny gains back her senses.

She reaches the portrait that conceals the kitchen's entrance a few moments before Draco and tickles the pear, the entrance opens and Dobby stands before her greeting her enthusiastically.

"Miss Wheezy! It is so nice of you to visit Dobby! Are you hungry? Do you want to see my new hat?"

The little elf squeals hugging Ginny's leg, when Draco enters. Dobby lets go of her leg immediately and steps back a little.

"Young Master Malfoy." the trembling elf hisses through bared teeth, tiny fists clenched at his side.

"Dobby, bring us pumpkin juice and something to eat." Draco commands in a calm and hostile voice and the angry little creature storms off to obey.

"Why are you so rude to him? Dobby is a nice elf!" Ginny scolds her companion.

"He used to be my fathers personal elf and he hates my guts. He always did. I have no reason to be nice to him." he answers bitterly.

"What has he done to you? Dobby is not mean, he would never hate someone who doesn't deserve it!" she defends her friend.

"He jinxed my play broom when I was six, it threw me off and I had to regrow both my legs! Do think that is not mean?" Draco asks her, a vicious tone in his voice.

"That's just like him. Dobby has a twisted way of protecting people. The bludger that knocked Harry off his broom in your second year, was hexed by Dobby. He wanted to protect Harry from - you know what. I never understood the reasoning behind that." she recounts, trailing off at the end and pushing away the painful memories.

Draco starts to chuckle softly, but the sound builds up and up until he laughs so hard that his legs give in and he has to sit down, the vision of an overzealous House-elf that full of good intentions almost kills Saint Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Plague-Him is a truly joyous one.

When Dobby arrives with one plate overloaded with food and one glass of pumpkin juice. The elf puts down the food in front of Ginny and instantly turns on his heel to rush off, when Draco puts a big, pale hand on his tiny, greyish shoulder. The elf struggles a little to come free, but Draco has a firm grip on him.

"Dobby, all those times you hurt me or almost killed me, why did you do that?' the inquiry makes Dobby's huge eyes grow even bigger and in his shrill voices he wobbles 'Dobby always wanted to help Young Master! Dobby would never hurt any child, but Young Master was always cruel to Dobby!"

Draco leans forward a little and pulls the tiny, trembling creature in a quick, soft hug.

"Thank you!" he whispers, releasing the elf that immediately rushes off and swiftly returns with food and drink for Draco.

Dobby doesn't return for the rest of their meal and Ginny and Draco just chat away, about Quidditch and other inconsequential things, discovering that despite supporting different teams, they both detest Puddlemere United and that none of them would ever set foot in Madam Puddifoot's out of their own accord.

The evening gets late and they decide to go back to their dormitories.

"Shall I walk you to your tower?" Draco asks, his voice tinged with hope, he doesn't want to let her go. He enjoys her company and it feels weird that he shared so much personal information and even a vulnerable moment with her, but doesn't have anything to ensure she doesn't use this against him. Somehow though, he knows she won't, she has no reason and above all she is a noble, Goody-Two-Shoes Gryff.

"No, if Harry is sneaking around he might see us together and I am really not in the mood for that." she replies, sad that she has to do without him for the next hours.

"All right." he answers simply, inwardly cursing Potty and his minions.

The share a soft, longing kiss, that rep

laces lust with fragile connectedness and part ways.

#

When Ginny arrives in the Common Room she finds it almost empty, only Ron sits in the armchair by the fire, snoring loudly. She hopes that she can make it to her dorm without waking it, when Crookshanks jumps into her brothers lap and wakes him.

"Bloody cat! Hullo Gin." Ron jerks from his lap, his gaze falling on Ginny.

"Hey Ron. Sleep well?" she grins from ear to ear, trying to look happy and unsuspicious.

"Not so much. Where do you come from? It must be well past curfew." her brother questions in a very fatherly tone.

"From the kitchen, I fell asleep at the lake. I wanted to draw it." Ginny lies, thinking that she does quite a good job at not blushing, when the portrait swings back a second time and Harry stumbles in, grumbling loudly.

"I just ran in to Malfoy, that prick. I wanted to get something to eat, when I saw him coming from the direction of the kitchens. I tried to hide behind the statue of Abelena the Abundant, but it was to late. He saw me and took points from me for sneaking around. Can you believe that?" Harry recounts, sputtering with rage.

"Ginny said she was in the kitchen earlier. Did you see Malfoy there Gin?" her brother asks and she is at a loss, what can she say?

"No...I um, no I think, I mean I'm pretty sure I didn't see Dr...Malfoy there." she blubbers, grinning like a mad woman and then lifts her hand to wave.

"Good night, boys." she just wants to get away.

"What happened to your wrist?" Harry shouts.

"Bloody hell, that looks awful. Gin who did that to you?" her brother exclaims, clearly worried.

"Nobody? Listen, I have to sleep." she tries to sound annoyed, but she really is just nervous and she feels her face turn from blush red to you-caught-me-lying red.

"Did you run into Malfoy? Did he hurt you?" Harry wants to know, even more angry now than before.

"What do you care? Who said getting them hurt me?" she retorts stroppily.

"Young Lady watch your tongue." Ron warns in his best Molly Weasley impersonation.

Suddenly Harry opens his mouth, slowly letting out the awful idea that just came to his mind,

"You were with him."


End file.
