Boys Night, Girls Night
15
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15.
Draco was sitting on his bed, putting on his shoe. There was a very irate owl at his window. He stared at it, debating whether to walk away. He was not in a very good mood.
That knock....
Deciding to take pity on the owl, wasn’t like it was his fault for his dark mood, he took the scroll and waved him away.
Smarmy, you have an appointment with me in a half hour at Harry’s. I do not care if you have something else to do, you will rearrange it. I mean it. Don’t make me track you down.
Because you know I will.
-G
With each word his temper rose. He had purposefully avoided seeing Ginny since he found out she was in on the game that started this fiasco. But hey, she could take a few hexes better than most, and it would feel good to let it out. His dark mood lessened a little thinking of a good duel.
Then there was a knock. Not on his door, but the apartment door. What now?
Knock, who ever came up with that word or action anyway? He thought sourly.
“Who is it?” he yelled walking to the door.
“Greg!” came a weak shout.
“Greg? I don’t know any Greg,” he talked through the door, his hand pausing on the knob.
“I’m Hermione’s temp- filling in for Julie. Look, I’m sorry, but these boxes are really heavy. Can you open the door?”
Draco opened the door. There was an average looking wizard juggling four or five boxes. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, here I’ll take them.”
“No! They’ll drop! Just tell me where to put them.” He panted.
“Come in. Right there on the table will be fine." Draco directed the young guy to the kitchen, walking close enough behind to be able to catch anything should it fall. "What are these things anyway?” He peaked into the boxes once they were safely placed on the table.
“They were delivered to the office by mistake. They should have been sent to the location, but they refused store them until the day of the benefit. Snobbish to the tenth degree. Each box has engraved placeholders and name tags for this Friday.” He wiped his forehead. “Can you tell her I dropped them off and that there are still another box being finished up as we speak- it will be delivered tomorrow? I sent her an owl, but I want to make sure she gets the message. She hasn’t responded.”
“No problem. Thank Greg.” Draco showed him out the door. Locking it up as he left.
What happened to the perky Julie? What else has Hermione kept from him these past weeks?
He took his time walking to Harry's apartment. It was nice enough out. He waited downstairs until he was late, then starting walking up to the landing. He opened the door without hesitation and walked in.
Ginny was waiting for him, pacing the floor. She looked irritated when he strolled in completely at his leisure five minutes late.
He walked in and stood there, not bothering with a greeting. When she made to talk he interrupted her knowing it was her pet peeve.
“For one thing, never summon me like a servant. Two- I want to know what you had to do with Hermione that night.” His voice might have come out unremarkable, and the term “that night” now in everyone’s common lexicon, but he could still see Ginny’s mouth frown the tiniest bit.
“We created the game a long time ago. It was my idea for the appearance she had; Lavender and I picked you out.” She said by rout hardly thinking of what she was saying.
"Before you go on this rant I see you building up to, you need to know that no one could predict what was going to happen. We all misjudged how much was going against this- the alcohol being a key factor. Hermione- Hannah, whoever you want to think of, meant to take the charm off, or tell you soon after. Bad timing is to blame for the most part.”
Draco seethed. Just bad timing? How bout worse idea ever? “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again Weasel, stay the fuck out of my personal affairs!”
Ginny waved him off, her engagement ring flapping at him, reminding him of something else to consider.
“Get over this, or stick it in your back pocket for the moment. We can duel later if you want to get your anger out. Right now we need to talk about something serious and we can’t do that with you planning my demise whilst I talk.”
Draco almost grinned. He was indeed planning which curses to use. “Is Harry here? I want to know if I should watch my back.”
“Nope, we’re all alone. Actually, he is out with Hermione right now.” Ginny sat down on the couch, the very picture of ease despite the hostility he was showing.
“Then spit it out.” He growled.
Suddenly, she flourished a stack of oddly assorted parchment at him. “Here, read these.” She had caught him off guard and he, despite himself, deflated a bit. Her plan, no doubt. "The last one is the most current- in writing anyway. The latest can’t be shown.”
Draco looked down at the pile with revulsion, refusing to take them. “You threatened me here to read you’re correspondence?”
Ginny stared at the ceiling with mock patience, playing the martyr. “Don’t be so full of yourself. This isn’t my correspondence. Just read the damn things.” She shoved them into his hands without waiting for a retort.
He gave her a furious glare. Then started to shift through what was deposited into his hands.
“Hermione, that color is fabulous on you.”
“Hermione, you look fantastic today.”
Draco looked up. “What is this dribble?”
Ginny gave up the charade of patience; it was never her strong suit anyway. She picked a particularly abused letter out and instructed him to start reading again.
“...I am eager to give you what you deserve...
...I picture your lips bleeding, begging...
...Do you enjoy that I see you everyday?...
...Saw you in the grocery store - took all my will power not to fuck you right then...
...If you keep up talking to other men I will break that pretty little neck of yours...
...lips blue when I kiss you...
...your broken wrist on my dick..."
Draco read bits aloud from each letter growing more and more alarmed.
“What in the fuck is going on?” He asked indignantly.
“That’s nothing. The other day a skinned rabbit in a bloody cardboard box was delivered to the apartment.” Ginny sounded so off hand that he looked at her.
This is how she commanded attention. Ginny always got her way by relentlessly giving information after information until the person capitulated. She would have made a fine army officer.
But there was a fire in her eyes this time and her fists clenched.
“Start at the beginning. When did this start?” Draco sat heavily in the armchair across from her, still picking through the notes.
“Right around the time of ‘that night.’” She grimaced at that term. “As you saw, it wasn’t anything serious at first. But each day there were more, and the more that came each became slightly more off putting. Less admiring, more severe. Then they were downright appalling." Gin took one look at him and knew what was on his mind, softening her voice a little. "She didn't want to involve you in this anymore than she had too.”
“Wait,” Draco said holding that same abused letter from earlier. “This person, they knew she was Hannah? This note…this one is dated that night we fought...” He was staring at it, trying to reconstruct the argument from Hermione’s side, knowing this person knew everything she was doing, where she was, watching…
He propped his elbows on his knees, one hand clutching the letter, the other running through his hair. All these emotions were wearing on him, unable to hold them up for longer than a few seconds.
Like a knife stabbing him, he remembered that terrified look before she changed back into herself. It had faded into the background, forgotten completely on his part until right now. He was full of self-disgust. She'd been living with this for weeks.
“Hermione should have told me, why didn't she?” He demanded.
“Men and their egos. Don’t go and make this about you. I seem to remember someone saying she essentially meant nothing to him except a rent check.” Ginny scolded, satisfied when he looked slightly abashed.
"You know Mione. She thinks she can handle everything herself. She never wanted a knight riding a white horse. Or, at least, that's what she tells herself. Instead, she put up security and limited her social activities. The ministry is working on it."
“The security wards…” He let the thought trail off. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. Set up to keep everyone out...
"Did you really think it was a ministry mandate?" Ginny asked derisively. When he didn't say anything she let out a delicate snort. "Fools, the both of you."
"No, Ginny! The security wards! I invited someone in this morning!" He leapt up from the chair.
"What?” she jumped up as well. “Who? Why?" she fired questions at him while grabbing a quill and parchment.
"He said he was filling in for Julie while she was out. This wizard, Greg, was dropping things off from the office." He added defensively. Ginny's hand slowed on the parchment. She looked torn.
"I'll write to Harry." She decided. "I'll have him ask about this Greg. I think it will be ok." She continued writing, and then looked up sharply. "Breath, Draco."
Draco felt himself let out a whoosh of air he wasn't aware he was holding. What if this Greg was the guy? No, it couldn't be. Right? Not knowing what he was doing he started walking around the room, trying to get his bearings.
The majority of his anger at Hermione seemed to have flown right out the window. He was blind sighted by this. Completely thrown off, his thoughts chaotic. If it wasn't Greg, it could be the creep that was hanging all over her at the club, or a past fling, a random person from the ministry, or what about her bakery employees? What about all those girls he'd let in these pass few nights?
The list of suspects kept growing in his head. The sheer number boggled his mind. Half of him just wanted to go find her, tuck her under his arm not unlike a chaser and a quaffle and leave London.
He reigned in that impulse and concentrated on watching Ginny finish writing and sending it off.
"Where are Harry and Hermione right now?" He asked, pleased when his voice didn't come out panicked.
Ginny sighed. "That's the other thing we need to talk about."
Draco wasn't sure he could handle anymore.
...your broken wrist...
He wanted to gag.
"Hermione is out looking at apartments." a voice a long way away said.
That got his attention. "What do you mean looking at apartments? You just showed me what this sicko is thinking of and now she wants to move out?” He wasn’t sure which part was worse, the fact that she didn’t want to live with him, or the part where she’d rather risk getting hurt than live with him anymore.
Or, maybe, she had decided to move in with Krum. He felt a surge of anger more lasting than he thought possible. “With who?"
"I never said with anyone else. She wants to move out by herself." The distaste in her voice was strong enough that Draco knew she didn't like the idea anymore than him.
"And before you fly off the handle, I've tried talking her around. She's not budging. She even went so far as to imply that if this person did get to her, she'd rather be alone than risk anyone else. This could be the one time I wish Gryffindor had another virtue besides courage."
"I can talk to her." He offered. "I can talk her out of it."
Ginny looked at him with pity. "And when was the last time you tried to talk to her without resentment?"
That pity made him squirm with guilt. "Last night, if you must know. I tried knocking on her door to talk with her."
Ginny's face brightened. "She didn't say anything of it. What happened?"
Draco's face clouded over. "Nothing, she didn't answer the door." He conveniently left out the fact that he had knocked more than once, and not so lightly. Five minutes of knocking left him wonder whether she was there at all.
"Oh. It was a Sunday night; maybe she went to bed early?" She implored.
"Maybe," But his tone implied his skepticism. He then had a sudden bright, if not somewhat stupid, course of action. "Look, I'm not going to be in the apartment much tonight. Can you convince her to stay here, just until we're sure of this Greg guy? I'll talk with her tomorrow."
Ginny peered at him oddly. In that instant, he knew that she knew exactly what was going on in his head no matter that he didn't allude to it. They connected like that, completely ruthless when it came to those whom they cared about.
She shook her head- "Of course,” then called to him “be careful!" as he walked out the door.
Someone named Greg most likely had a few answers he was looking for.