Gryphon's Wings and Crocodile Tears

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the other original characters and or places in the Potterverse, which was created by the wonderful JK Rowling. I believe that they are owned by Warner Brothers. However, the plot, new characters and or places are mine, mine, mine! And are subject to copyright by ME!

Chapter 15-Reprecussions


Draco walked with a jaunty step back to the Slytherin common room; this was when the blonde wizard was at his most alluring to the opposite sex. It was as though the conquest of yet another girl made him that much more desirable as a partner for the amorous minded young women of Hogwarts. None of them needed to ask whether or not he’d just “scored”, as it was plainly written on his face, but what the girls of Slytherin found to be particularly amusing was the amount of joy he was taking in the subjugation of this particular strumpet. What student could possibly have elicited such a response in the man well known for displaying a cool or even cold attitude toward everyone and everything? And so the speculation began, and with it the rumors, poisonous lies directed at everyone not fortunate enough to have been sorted into Slytherin.


Draco swept past the knot of girls who were whispering and plotting, as only members of his house were capable, there was no reason for him to found anything out of sorts with their Machiavellian scheming. He puffed out his chest, nearly causing the lot of them to swoon in his wake, as he made his way to the private room his father had secured for him in his first year. He closed the door behind him with no small amount of amusement at the power he’d managed to gain over the fairer sex, father had taught him well.


He shook his head and his carefully groomed blond locks were tossed into his eyes, ‘Are all of them so easy to manipulate? It hardly seems a challenge; that is what I need a challenge.’ He would live to rue this very thought and the moment he conceived it. He would soon be reminded of the age-old saying that one should be careful what one wishes for, on the grounds that one might just receive one’s wish.


He smoothed his hair and crossed to the full-length mirror in the corner of his room where he began to admire his reflection and preen until he deemed himself perfectly curried, which took almost no time at all he was perfect after all. He then opened the secret compartment in the nightstand next to his stately bed and drew his quill from the inkwell and began to pen his experience with Ginny Weasley:


Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor, Pureblood: 25 March, 1996
Potters little Virgin, well not anymore. She was horrid, but that doesn’t matter. Underdeveloped, maybe a bit young. She’s a crier. C-


He wanted to finish his homework so he took a small bit of sand from a tiny black velvet pouch and dusted it over the wet ink to absorb the excess. He carefully dumped the sand back into the pouch and re-rolled the parchment and placed it back into the secret compartment. As he began studying he found once again that his thoughts were drifting to that pair of soulful, beautiful brown eyes. He’d read, or rather tried to read the same passage no less than a dozen times before he decided that any attempts to study today would be an exercise in futility.


Who on earth had eyes like that and why couldn’t he seem to find her? A disturbing thought ran through his mind as he closed his books and began to tidy his bedchamber, ‘What if they aren’t a girls eyes?’ His arms were suddenly covered in goose bumps and he felt sick to his stomach, he was many things to many people, but he was not a puff! He had to sit down to shake off this unpleasant thought and found his thoughts were wandering back to Hermione Granger of all people. Was it possible that his conquest of Ginny would be more of a hindrance than an advantage in wooing the mudblood? He sat shaking his head, he should not be thinking of her.

Ginny did not emerge from her refuge until the following morning. It felt as though she’d cried for hours after Draco left her alone and cold in the empty room. She hoped that he hadn’t noticed her tears as he departed, she’d long ago learned to sob silently as a defense mechanism having so many brothers she was accustomed to having her feelings hurt on a regular basis.


Why had she allowed Draco into the room, was she so naive that she honestly believed that that snake could possibly be there to comfort her? She’d also learned long ago that a Malfoy never did anything without at least two separate motives, motives that were never selfless. Surely he’d tell Harry and then she’d really be alone; just then the tears returned anew and they were so plentiful that the sheer amount of water threatened to drown her. What had she done that was so horrible that everything she touched turned to muck in her hands?


When Ginny next became aware of her surroundings she found that she was curled into a ball on the cold floor shivering. She stood up too quickly and blacked out falling back down onto the frigid stone, she felt as though she were in a prison cell. She did not even feel worthy of the meager rations afforded to prisoners, not that she could have managed to consume so much as a moldy crust of bread given her torrent of emotions. The most vile of thoughts gripped the young redheaded witch as she lay sprawled on the floor of the Room of Requirement the miasma of depression was nearly palatable, bitter and salty.


Deciding that it might be best not to attempt to stand once more she crawled across the floor to the bed and she clawed her way up onto it where she promptly passed out once more from the exhaustion of crossing the room. When she next found conscious thought, a tray bearing a small amount of food sat on the nightstand next to the bed. It was precisely the correct type of food for someone who has just experienced a severe emotional upset; it was light and not likely to offend her delicate stomach. After a tiny meal of dry toast, lukewarm tea and scrambled eggs she felt thin, but no longer hollow.


Harry was not concerned about Ginny until she failed to make even a cursory appearance at breakfast the morning after all of the unpleasantness. He wasn’t sure how he should be feeling, should he be angry with Hermione for frightening Ginny, or should he be upset with Ginny for letting Hermione frighten her so easily? In the end he supposed that it really didn’t matter one way or the other, as neither would be a very constructive option to pursue.


After the meal he took it upon himself to find her and see what was keeping her from his side. He knew that the only possible place that she could have stayed for so long undetected by most students and faculty was the Room of Requirement. He walked swiftly through the halls to the corridor that contained the kitchen and the room in question. He paced in front of the door and thought, ‘I must find Ginny.’ He passed by the magical doorway three times in succession and the door appeared and opened to admit him.


He entered the room to find Ginny curled up in a ball of sheets and blankets in the center of the bed fast asleep and snoring lightly. He crept to the side of her bed and gently placed a hand on her forehead, she didn’t have a fever, nor was she cold. Harry sat in silent thought trying to figure what could cause such exhaustion in a healthy person who was so young. He came to no conclusion that didn’t cause an undue amount of worry in him. He called her name softly hoping to wake her, but to no avail. It was almost as though she were comatose; it was very disconcerting to the raven-haired wizard.


Ginny nearly jumped as a cold hand was pressed to her forehead, who could be here now and just what did that person want with her? Had Draco come back to gloat; was Hermione ready to curse her if she showed even the most minute sign of life? No, the identity of her visitor was much worse than she imagined; it was Harry. But what had he heard was there any chance that Draco had elected not to spread the awful story of last night around the school? She did not, was not capable of dealing with him or the situation just yet so she lay still pretending to be in a deep sleep.


Harry eventually gave up when he was late for his first class of the day, he hurriedly scratched a note and left it on the nightstand beside the bed and left the room. After he left Ginny sat up and let out the breath that she dared not release whilst Harry was in the room. She made a superficial attempt at readying herself for class and slipped as surreptitiously as possible to her class, History of Magic taught by the ghostly Professor Binns. She was fortunate he rarely noted who was in attendance in his class, punctuality and attendance seemed to be the universal pet peeve of all the living teachers at Hogwarts.


Harry was prepared to accept the consequences of his lateness to Snape’s class, at least until he walked into the room and did not find what, or rather whom he expected. It was not the pallid and shrewd-faced Potions Master at the head of the class it was Hermione. She seemed unnecessarily agitated by his tardiness; that had never happened before. The only other time she was called on to teach a class he’d come in late and she’d continued as though he’d been there the entire time. It was instantly clear to him what an incredible mess and dangerous enemy he’d made by crossing Hermione, suddenly it all came back to him her love of rules and all things proper.


“Mr. Potter if you would kindly take a seat I’d like to continue the lesson. The longer you dawdle the more points you’ll lose for your house.” He still stood dumbfounded by the character of the person who had been one of his best mates for so many years, it hardly seemed possible that she’d turn on him after all these years, but there it was. Then again, it was not as though she’d turned on him really, she’d merely stopped favoring and coddling him as she had for years. Harry continued to stand in the space between the desks with a blank look on his face. It had been brought sharply into focus how much his life was about to change, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.


“Mr. Potter, if you are feeling quite well I suggest that you take your seat, if you continue to object I shall take an additional five points from Gryffindor every minute until you decide to take your seat. That will be in addition to the original ten points for your tardiness.” The entire class was wide eyed at Hermione’s proclamation; none of them had expected her to be so harsh to a member of her own house. The members of Slytherin were shaking with silent laughter, while the Gryffindors were slack-jawed and staring in disbelief.


“You know,” said Draco to Blaise Zabini, “I think that she might just have some potential.” He unwisely allowed a giggle to slip at Draco’s tongue-in-cheek remark and the curly haired brunette rounded on him, in a flash of potion ingredients he’d found that he fallen off of his chair and lay spread-eagle on the floor for fear of her reaction.


“Five points from Slytherin for disrupting class Mr. Zabini. Would anyone else from the peanut gallery like to make their opinion known or have the hourglasses in the Great Hall had enough exercise for the day?” The class was wisely silent at this question.


By the time Harry had found his seat and the period had ended for the day he’d lost Gryffindor thirty-five points and was none too popular with the members of his house. For the first time since his second year when he was rumored to be the Heir of Slytherin he found that there was no one who wished to be in his company not even Lavender Brown seemed to want anything to do with him.


Hermione smirked; it was about time that someone put Harry into his proper place. She reveled in the fact that it was she who’d been the one to push the smug bastard from his high horse. It would have the most impact coming from a former friend. She was a little saddened by that thought, ‘a former friend.’ She sighed, there was nothing she could do about the way events had unfolded even were she of a mind to do so.



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