Chapter 5
“I’m pretty sure I heard some Slytherins talking about a celebration for their new Seeker getting sorted. You should go.”
Ginny inclined her head. “Thanks Hermione.”
“Of course.”
A wall of noise greeted her as she entered the common room. Flint slapped her on the back and a few other people jostled her.
“Shoulda seen Dumbledore’s face. Covered it quick, but he was shocked.”
“He could have saved himself the embarrassment and just spoken to me about it. Either of them could,” Ginny said, her anger still simmering over her confrontation with her mother.
The party was fun, but rather tame for the lower years. The goblets were charmed to only give them non-alcoholic butterbeer and there was only so much of the stuff Ginny could drink. Ginny was however happy. Who cared what her mother or Ron thought? At least her house like her.
That all changed the very next day. It was their first practice, and Flint, being the little shit that he was, got permission to practise at the same time the Gryffindors did. Ginny and Draco thought this was hilarious and snickered at the furious expression on Wood’s face. Flint was gloating. But then Draco made a crack about Ron’s being unable to afford a broom and Ginny knew, just knew, that Hermione had said what she said to defend her because Draco had come at her family.
“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way on.”
This was patently false and everyone knew it, but Draco flushed and glared at her.
“No one asked you, you filthy little mudblood.”
Ginny could vividly recall the next moments. She remembered cartilage collapsing under the force of her punch. She remembered a scream. She remembered standing over the boy and Pansy, who had been on her way to watch the practice, kneeling down and cooing over Draco. But most of all, she remembered the fear in Draco’s eyes and the snarl on his face.
Draco, it turned out, had a lot more influence than even she had realised. It was not twenty-four hours later that Flint told her she was off the team. He looked pained to say it, but he’d still done it. He’d implied heavily that it was at Lucius Malfoy’s behest. The next day was made up of a litany of hexes in her own common room, and she took to keeping to the dorms and the library.
Pansy was cold to her. This hurt more than even losing Quidditch. Pansy had been an odd sort of friend and mentor to Ginny in her first week.
It was three days from the day she’d punched Malfoy and half her house had turned on her, when she was pulled roughly into an alcove behind a tapestry.
“Gah!”
“Shhh!”
Ginny’s wand was in her hand in an instant and pointed at Pansy’s chest.
“What? Got another hex in the back for me?”
Pansy looked slightly guilty at that.
“Goyle was going to do something far nastier…” she said. Ginny glared at the girl. Pansy seemed to lose any trace of guilt. “Anyway, just keep your head down and I’ll smooth things over. Malfoy’s just being a baby about, for once, getting what he deserves.”
Ginny gaped at her. “But, you’ve been all over him for the past few days!”
“Obviously. It’s what’s expected of me. My mother is keen on a marriage alliance with the heir to both the house of Black and Malfoy.”
“I can’t keep my head down if he’s going to call Hermione a mudblood.”
“I seriously doubt he’ll call her that in front of you again. His father was furious at him for allowing himself to be punched.”
Ginny snorted. “Considering my father punched him in Flourish and Blotts, that’s a bit hypocritical.”
Pansy’s mouth fell open. “How did I not hear about that?”
“Likely, Lucius Malfoy suppressed it. They got into this big brawl. It was really embarrassing.”
“Thank you so much. Oh the things I can do with that information… Right, anyway, I’m going to pretend to not know you until Draco gets over his tiff. But…” Pansy looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Come to me if you have any problems.” Then she left the alcove, leaving a very confused Ginny behind.