'Resistance is useless,' purred the voluptuously evil Lady Stacia, her vast bosom rising and falling above the material of her leather corset like a temperamental souffle. 'You are mine now, Tristan. Forget Rhiannon. I, and I alone, can take you to the snowy peaks of ecstasy.'
Tristan set his jaw. He would have folded his manly arms as well, but he couldn't because Lady Stacia had tied him to a pole. 'Rhiannon is my one true love, and I shall never forget her. Never!'
Lady Stacia shrugged, and from her thigh-high leather boot drew a long phoenix feather, with which she commenced tickling the helpless Tristan all over his bare chest. Tristan began to suspect that she would not rest until she partook of his manly charms. Well, perhaps Rhiannon wouldn't mind if it was just this once, would she? Anyway, she had been carried off by pirates. Who knew when he would see her again?
Ginny dropped Passionate Trousers into her lap and stared disconsolately at the cover. It was blank at the moment — the illustrated versions of Rhiannon and Tristan had vanished, presumably in order to have some privacy. Well, Ginny thought darkly, at least someone was having fun tonight. And of course Tristan in the story was deserting Rhiannon for the umpteenth time — because, she reasoned, kicking the book off the bed, men were worthless.
Or not. She felt a pang, remembering — she had come running into the Great Hall after leaving Draco, all her nerves on fire and her skin tingling, and she had seen Seamus, standing and talking very pleasantly with Charlie over by the wall, and she had felt her stomach drop out. Seamus was so sweet, and so well-meaning, and what was she doing but treating him absolutely dreadfully? He had looked up and smiled at her then, and it had taken every bit of her willpower not to simply run out of the room.
Instead she had gone up to him and begged off the rest of the evening, claiming a sick headache. He had walked her to Gryffindor Tower, unfailingly kind as always, and the last she had seen of him had been his tow- blond hair disappearing into darkness as she mounted the steps to her empty dormitory room.
She sighed, and lay back down on the bed, burying her face in her arms.
She felt dreadfully guilty about Seamus, deprived of his Pub Crawl, and could not shake the feeling that she had been messing about behind his back. Of course, she had not meant to kiss Draco -
She rolled over then, and stared up at the ceiling. Who was she kidding.
As if she'd gone outside for any other reason. She had looked up while she was dancing with Seamus and seen Draco standing by the Great Hall doors, watching her. From that distance she could not see the expression on his face, only his silver hair and pale skin printed against the darkness behind him. But she could see the angle of his shoulders, the way he stood, and knew he was watching her, and saw him walk away. And there was no power on earth at that point that could have prevented her from going after him.
Hence, she thought, the guilt, and the pounding headache. She sat up, wondering if she should go for a Pain-Relieving Charm, when she realized that the pounding sound she was hearing was not, in fact, the pain in her own head. It was someone banging on the dormitory door.
She stood up slowly, wrapping her arms around herself — she was wearing her jeans and a maroon sweater than had once belonged to Ron; the sleeves were so long that they entirely engulfed her hands. With a sigh, she went across the room and opened the door, wondering if it was Elizabeth or Ashley, too tired to remember how to work the doorknob.
But it was Seamus. He had changed out of his fancy dress clothes, and was in jeans and a dark yellow sweater with a black stripe across the front. His feet were bare, and his hair was a mess, and he looked as if he'd just spent at least twenty minutes screwing himself up to do something unpleasant.
'Hey,' he said, his eyes searching the room behind her to see if there was anyone else there. Satisfied that the room was empty, he turned his gaze back to Ginny. 'I was hoping I could talk to you.'
Ginny sagged against the doorframe. 'Oh, Seamus. Whatever it is, don't say it. I can't cope. Not right now.'
Seamus shook his head. 'This is ridiculous,' he said.
'I know. And I'm sorry. I ruined your Yule Ball, and you could have gone to the Pub Crawl, and I feel awful. I hate myself. I am so, so sorry.'
Seamus looked exasperated. 'That is not what I meant,' he said. 'I meant you…you letting yourself be miserable. I don't care about the Yule Ball or the Pub Crawl or any of it! But I care about you, Ginny.'
She looked at him in surprise. 'Seamus…'
'I do,' he said quickly. 'I have for a long time. When you came back this year, after you'd been away, it was like… you were a whole new person and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed you before. You're beautiful, you're clever, you're a fantastic Quidditch player, you're funny, your friends obviously adore you…'
Ginny looked at him with her mouth open. 'I'd no idea.'
'Well,' said Seamus. 'Now you do.'
She shook her head. 'Don't…don't be all sweet and nice. I don't deserve it.' She leaned against the doorjamb, feeling hopeless. 'I can't do this. It would be a mistake, and — and I can't do this again.'
Seamus looked surprised. 'Again? You dated me before?'
Ginny laughed despite herself. 'No, I mean… look, Seamus, I like you, I really do, and you're charming and sweet, but I've discovered that it's a really, really bad idea to go against my instincts. The last time I did that -
well, it didn't work out so well for me.'
Seamus nodded. He had put his hands in his pockets. 'I just saw your brother come back from the Pub Crawl with Harry and Hermione,' he said. 'They didn't even look surprised to see me sitting by myself in the common room. It made me wonder what they know that I don't know.
Ginny…' he paused. 'What exactly did Malfoy do to you? I won't say anything — or judge you — I just want to understand.'
Ginny bit her lip. 'You couldn't possibly…'
'I could if you explain it to me,' said Seamus, his voice very firm.
Ginny hesitated, looking at him. He had a kind, honest face, made more boyish by the smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked steadfast and loyal and stalwart and all those things she associated with her brothers, with all the men in her life really — except for one. She couldn't imagine upending all the trial and darkness and misery of the last six months, the confusion and the pain and the victory and the disappointment, on top of
