which reportedly had one. And it did have a station — but it was closed, and locked as tight as the forbidden third floor corridor at Hogwarts.
Harry had gone to look around while Draco, miserable with boredom and cold, had flopped down on an empty bench and tried to read a Muggle newspaper that he'd found blowing about. Privately, he rather thought that due to Harry's years at Hogwarts, the other boy had probably forgotten more about Muggles than he remembered. 'Look, Potter. If we wait until six in the morning, there's no way that we'll be back in time for classes, and I thought that was the whole point of all this.'
Harry shrugged and glanced around. He looked small and cold and defenseless, which made it difficult to stay angry with him. 'Well, what do you suggest then, Malfoy?'
'We could just use the Portkey to go back,' Draco said. 'Where does it take us? Lupin's office? Good enough for me. I might even be able to get almost an hour of sleep in.'
'No!' Harry exclaimed, and then more quietly, 'No. There must be another way.'
'There is,' said Draco, and Harry looked at him in confusion. Draco raised his left hand and snapped his fingers, and as he did so he saw Harry's expression of confusion clear, to be replaced by what looked like panic.
'No, Malfoy! Not the — ' He was cut off by a loud squealing and roaring noise as the huge, hideous, triple- decker purple bus with its splashy gold lettering roared to a stop in front of them. The driver honked the horn, which sounded like a parakeet being strangled. Harry sighed in defeat.
'Not the Knight Bus,' he said wearily. 'What if they tell someone they saw us?'
'Oh, bloody hell, Potter, quit thinking you're the biggest news story since
… well, since you, but I'm not sure 'Harry Potter Takes The Bus' is going to move a lot of copies of the Daily Prophet.'
Harry looked from Draco to the hideous purple bus, and sighed. 'I hope you're right.'
'I'm right. I'm always right! Now get on the bus, you're giving me a headache.'
Draco was so exhausted that he barely took note of the pimply-faced young man who took his money, and was too cold to complain about the fact that he then charged him a ridiculous two galleons for a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. Draco paid, then went directly to the back of the bus, which was deserted, and flung himself down onto an empty four-poster bed. Then he sat up, and looked around him with concern.
'What is it, Malfoy?' Harry asked, taking the bed next to Draco's and lying down in it. 'You look worried.'
'Malfoys,' said Draco tightly, 'do not sleep on municipal beds. How many other people do you think have lain on these sheets? It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.'
'I've seen you sleep on concrete floors,' Harry pointed out. 'Surely this can't be less comfortable?'
'It's not an issue of comfort,' said Draco irritably, took his coat off, flung it on the bed, and lay back down on top of it.
'You're such a prima donna, Malfoy,' said Harry, who had curled into his favored sleeping position — on his side, with his head pillowed on his left arm. His green eyes watched Draco with friendly amusement. 'I can't believe you didn't bring your own 350 thread count cotton percale sheets on this little camping trip.'
'I could Summon them,' said Draco agreeably, but Harry leaned quickly across the space between them, and caught at his wrist.
'No,' he said. 'No more magic — please. Especially not wandless magic. I really don't want to be noticed.'
'I was just joking,' said Draco, and Harry let go of his wrist slowly, and lay back down. 'They're satin sheets anyway,' Draco added, very quietly, a few minutes later, but Harry couldn't have heard him regardless; he had fallen fast asleep.
'So Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor?'
'Right,' said Ginny.
Seamus sat still a moment, re-digesting this information. 'And you….you're the Heir of Hufflepuff?'
Ginny nodded. 'Right,' she said again, cocking her head worriedly.
Seamus, sitting on the end of her bed, had picked up one of her woven throw pillows and was busy pulling threads out of it at a rapid pace. She doubted he realized what he was doing, but was beginning to worry that the story she was telling was a bit too much for him. He looked as if his mind were running in circles.
'And Malfoy…' Seamus paused, his blue eyes clouded. 'Malfoy died?'
'Only briefly,' Ginny replied, as helpfully as she could. 'He got better right away.'
Seamus shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. 'And… Harry and Malfoy can talk to each other telepathically? They like each other?'
'That last part's up for some debate,' Ginny said with a sigh, 'but basically yes.'
Seamus stood up hurriedly, dropping the pillow as he did, and began to pace barefoot up and down at the foot of the bed. Ginny sat up against the pillows and watched him, with some anxiety. She hadn't meant to tell him quite so much, but once she'd started talking it had all come out in a headlong rush. And she couldn't deny that there had been an intense pleasure in finally telling someone else everything she'd been holding inside for so long.
'Seamus,' she said finally. 'Talk to me. Are you all right?'
He glanced at her, almost as if he were surprised she was still there. 'I don't know what to say. About any of it. Malfoy… saved Harry's life?'
Ginny laughed. 'Which time are you asking about? They're always saving each other's lives. Look…' She sat forward on the bed, fixing Seamus with a hopeful look. 'They're not like other people…' she began.
'What about Quidditch?' Seamus said suddenly.
Ginny blinked at him, caught off guard. 'What?'
'Do they talk…in their heads…during matches? Because I'm pretty sure that's cheating.'
Ginny was outraged. 'Of course not! Harry would never do that! Neither would Draco!'
Seamus gave a dry laugh. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I'm not exactly used to the image of Malfoy as a paragon of virtue.'
'He's not,' Ginny said patiently. 'He's just changed, that's all. He's still arrogant, and stubborn, and mean sometimes, but…he wouldn't lie, or cheat, or do anything underhanded like that. He has a rigid moral code, in his own weird way. Look, if you knew him…'
Seamus gave another dry laugh. 'I can't believe this,' he said. 'You're defending Malfoy. To me.'
'But Seamus…' Ginny sat back on her heels. 'You said you wanted to know what happened between us.'
'But that's because I thought…' Seamus raked a hand through his tangled dark blond hair in exasperation. 'I thought he'd done something awful to you! Followed you around, tried to force himself on you, seduced you, betrayed you…'
'I see,' said Ginny coldly.
Seamus looked as if he knew he'd just said something stupid. 'I wasn't-'
Ginny's voice was like ice. 'I'm sorry that the reality isn't colorful enough for you, Seamus. I'm sorry I wasn't abused, or abandoned, or — '
'It's not that…' Seamus interrupted urgently. 'I thought I could help you -
'
'Well, I don't need your help!' Ginny almost shouted. 'I don't need you to race in on your big white horse and rescue me, Seamus Finnigan. In fact, I don't need you here at all. I let you in here because I thought you would make me feel better. But all you're doing is making me feel worse!'
A hurt look flashed across Seamus' open, gentle face. He came and sat down on the bed next to her, and tried to take her hand. She allowed him to lift it, but let it lie there in his grasp like a dead fish. If she'd had a real dead fish on hand, she would have whapped him across the head with it.
She wasn't sure why she felt so annoyed with Seamus, but she did. The Weasley temper…
'Ginny,' Seamus said after a long silence. 'I..I really like you. I do. But I get this feeling that you don't really
