Ginny hesitated. It was very hard to read Dracos expression. In the darkness, his eyes reflected light like a cat's. Slowly, she walked over and sat down next to him on the blankets. But she didn?t want to look at him, because he had his shirt off and it gave her an odd feeling, so she stared fixedly at the nightstand instead, and said the first thing that came into her head. 'Does it hurt?'
'It did when I was asleep,' he said. 'It doesn?t anymore.' He was looking down at his shirt now; the front of which was stained dark crimson. There was blood on his hands as well. Ginny looked at them curiously, noticing something odd. He had nearly the same hands as Harry — the same shape, the same bitten nails, the same long fingers and sharp articulation of bones. She had looked at Harrys hands often enough and with enough attention to have memorized them; she would have known them anywhere. The matching scars only added to the strangeness.
Ginny reached out and touched the scar on his left palm. 'How did you and Harry get these?'
Draco looked at her. 'Ron didn?t tell you?'
She shook her head.
Draco went back to looking at his shirt. 'Accident with a sharp deck of playing cards,' he said. 'We don?t like to talk about it. Too painful.'
Ginny made a face. 'Do you know what the thing I hate about you is, Malfoy?'
He glanced up at grinned. 'I am shocked,' he said. 'Shocked that there is only one thing you hate about me. I would have thought you had a list of thousands of grievances, possibly numbered.'
Ginny suddenly felt her face twitch into a smile, and was horrified.
Why was she smiling at Draco Malfoy? This was bad. It suddenly occurred to her how this might look to Ron if he came in suddenly -
she was kneeling on the floor with a shirtless Draco Malfoy amid a tangle of sheets and blankets, and they were smiling at each other as if they were old friends.
'I'm getting Harry,' she said hastily, and got to her feet, smoothing her nightdress down.
'Don't,' he said. 'Its not that important.'
'You're bleeding phantom blood,' said Ginny. 'I think this is worth waking Harry up for.'
'Forget it,' said Draco, and his tone brooked no argument. 'Just get me another shirt, will you?'
'A shirt?' echoed Ginny, in disbelief.
'A shirt. You've got a lot of brothers, there must be plenty of clothes in this house.'
Ginny tightened her lips into a narrow line, stalked out of the room, and returned with an object which she tossed into Draco's lap. It was one of Mrs. Weasley's famous sweaters.
'Pink,' he said morosely, glaring at it. 'I hate pink.'
'Good night, Malfoy,' said Ginny, and shut the door behind her.
Ginny and Ron were already awake when Harry came down to breakfast the next morning. He was a wearing one of the green sweaters that Mrs. Weasley had made for him years ago; it was too small on him now and the sleeves rode up over his thin wrists. He flopped down into the chair next to Ginny, picked up a spoon, and poked listlessly at the bowl of oatmeal that she slid across the table to him. Ron looked up briefly and nodded; he was busy reading the Daily Prophet.
'Any news?' asked Harry.
'Dementors are still missing,' said Ron, around a mouthful of toast.
'There were some reports of them being spotted near a wizarding town to the south, but those were discredited.' He snorted. 'By Percy. Its always Percy, isn?t it?'
Ginny shuddered. 'Imagine seeing Dementors right in your own town,' she said. 'In your own front garden…'
They all looked anxiously out the window.
'Ginny, don?t,' said Ron, irritably.
But Ginny had thought of something else she wanted to talk about.
'Harry,' she said. 'There's something wrong with Malfoy.'
Ron and Harry glanced at her curiously. She was buttering a piece of toast and looking determined.
'Something more than what's usually wrong with him?' said Harry.
'Yes,' said Ginny firmly. 'Last night he was screaming so loudly in his sleep that it woke me up. I've never heard anyone scream like that before. And then, when I went into his bedroom, he was lying on the floor and there was blood all over his shirt.'
'He was bleeding?' said Harry.
'You went into his bedroom?' said Ron, looking suddenly alarmed.
'Yes, and yes,' said Ginny. 'But the bedroom part is not the point of the story. The screaming and the blood, that would be the point of the story.' She shuddered. 'I do know what Dark magic feels like,' she said, more quietly. 'And it's all over him.'
'Did you stay in the bedroom with him?' asked Ron.
'Ron, are you listening to me at all?' snapped Ginny.
'You did, didn't you?' said Ron, looking horrified. 'Ginny! Malfoy?'
'I kind of like the sound of that,' said his sister, with a sadistic grin.
'Ginny Malfoy.'
