HARRY/

The journey to the Weasley's was longer than Harry remembered, but he and Ron passed a good amount of time with several rounds of exploding snap. They abandoned this pursuit, however, when a particularly explosive deck set the sleeve of Ron's robes on fire.

"Lucky it didn't get the sweater," said Ron morosely, looking as if his heart wasn't quite in his words. He plucked at a piece of fuzz on the edge of the golden "R" emblazoned on the maroon sweater that Mrs. Weasley had given him last year.

"Why are you wearing it anyways, Ron?" asked Ginny, who had just appeared in the doorway. Harry's stomach seemed to flip over.

"I reckon if I show up in it, mum'll be in a better mood," Ron muttered gloomily. "I can't really afford to have any more angry women on my hands right now." Ginny snorted.

"Oh yes, Ron, you have all the girls in Hogwarts seething over your very existence," she scoffed. "I had forgotten that you had such a strong pull on the emotions of women." Ron looked angry.

"It's nothing to joke about! I've still got the scars from Hermione's bloody bird attack!" He waved his forearms around in demonstration, and then turned to Harry. "Back me up, Harry. You saw it!"

"Er…" said Harry, slightly taken aback.

"Fine," said Ron, looking put out. "When you know what it feels like to be hated by half the female population…" he trailed off, crossing his arms. Ginny caught Harry's eye and grinned.

"It must be difficult, enduring the misguided anger of others, right Harry? One day maybe you'll sympathize." Harry's reply was cut short when another boy appeared in the doorway of their compartment.

"Trolley's down by us, Gin, d'you want anything?" asked Dean Thomas, one of their fellow Gryffindors.

"Sure," said Ginny, squeezing his hand. "I'll be right there." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and Harry had the sudden urge to slam the compartment door.

"All right, Harry?" asked Dean, looking into the compartment. Harry realized that he had been making a somewhat hostile expression.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Hey, Dean." He attempted to smile, but stopped rather quickly, as it was almost painful. Ron, oblivious to the situation, uncrossed his arms and looked interested.

"I'm starving. The trolley hasn't been down here, yet," he said. "I'm coming, too." He made to stand up, but Ginny quickly pushed him back down.

"I don't think so, Ron," she said. "When we want a side order of prat with our lunch, I'll let you know, though." Dean grimaced apologetically, backing out of the compartment. Ron, however, attempted a dignified expression.

"Women," he said simply to the area at large, nodding sagely.

"Right…" said Dean, confused. Ginny rolled her eyes at him as if to say "don't ask." And with that, they were gone, Ginny pulling Dean down the corridor by the hand. The compartment door closed with a bang, and Harry, lost in thought, jumped a little. A wave of the subtle, floral scent of Ginny's shampoo washed over him, no doubt blown in when the compartment door closed. This did nothing to help his reeling head. He mentally shook himself. He was going to have to prepare himself or spending the two weeks of Christmas break in her constant presence in the cozy Burrow.

And Dean's a voice in his head reminded him. He felt his heart sink. Dean had been invited too, of course. McGonagall had spoken to the Gryffindors when the sign-up sheets for the train went up: in these dangerous times, anyone from a non-wizarding family might be safer at a magical home, which could be given better protection. Mrs. Weasley had immediately invited Dean, much to Ginny's delight, and much to Harry's annoyance. Under normal circumstances, Harry and Dean were good friends, but ever since Dean had started dating Ginny, Harry found himself liking Dean less and less.

"What a git," said Ron, looking out the compartment door.

"Yeah," agreed Harry absentmindedly, not bothering to look. He didn't want to see Dean and Ginny snogging in the corridor at the moment.

"You didn't even look," said Ron with amusement. "Malfoy just bullied some first year out of his cauldron cakes." Harry looked blankly at him.

"Aren't you a prefect?" he said.

"Oh! Right," said Ron. "I'd better go and tell him off then." He stood up awkwardly to avoid colliding his head with the luggage rack, and slid the compartment door open. "Oi! Malfoy!" he yelled. Harry scooted closer to the door so that he could see what was happening in the corridor. Halfway to another train car, Draco Malfoy turned around with a look of annoyance on his pale face. Harry noted once again that he looked almost sickly lately. Remembering the exchange he had heard between Snape and Malfoy on the night of Slughorn's Christmas party, Harry almost felt tempted to follow him back to his compartment again. However, given how that had turned out the last time, and busy brooding on Ginny and Dean, he contented himself with watching.

"Yes, Weaselby?" drawled Malfoy. "I'm afraid I can't let you share my compartment, if that's what you're going to ask."

"Why would I want to share your compartment?" asked Ron, bewildered and irritable.

"Because Potter's reminiscences of his filthy mudblood mother are probably getting a bit old by now," he sneered. Harry stood up, reaching for his wand as he exited the compartment to stand beside Ron. "Ah, look," said Malfoy, "The dynamic duo. Where's your mudblood friend? Hiding from the nasty Death Eaters? Probably wise." Ron's curse hit Malfoy square in the chest, and he doubled over, wheezing.

"Careful, Weasel," he said, straightening up quickly. "You wouldn't want Hogwarts to have to send an owl to your mummy to tell her that you've…what was it…'put another toe out of line,' now would you?" He turned to leave.

"Hold up, Malfoy," said Ron, gaining confidence. "You're not leaving until you give that kid back his food," he said.

"Oh really," drawled Malfoy. "Fine, then." He opened the door to a nearby compartment and dropped in the cauldron cakes. Harry caught a glimpse of a group of terrified looking first years before the compartment door slammed shut again. Ron looked taken aback, but Harry felt suspicious.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" he asked, gripping the holly and phoenix feather wand tighter.

"Nothing that concerns you, Potter. Although, of course, it is your honor-bound duty as the 'Chosen One' to go strutting about, making everything your business. No, I simply wanted to do something right by Weasley." Harry stepped slightly in front of Ron to prevent him from doing anything stupid.

"What does that mean?" asked Ron, the volume of his voice rising steadily and dangerously.

"It means that at least you'll have the happy memory of my great kindness to look back on after the Death Eaters have murdered every last member of your blood-traitor family. Starting with your dumpy mother, right down to you, and then your mudblood girlfriend." Draco's eyes glittered maliciously as Harry stepped even further in front of Ron, who had raised his wand.

"Ron, don't be stupid, he's done this before," said Harry, even though his ears were ringing. Malfoy sensed that he had hit gold and continued.

"Oh, and of course, I can't forget your little whore of a sister, going around with every boy that will have her. Lucky that she's at least nice looking, or the stench of your mother's hovel would end all her chances forever."

Harry froze, rage coursing through his entire body.

"Maybe they'll save her for last; Greyback has always liked the pretty ones," he said vindictively, smirking at Harry. "What's the matter, Potter? Do you fancy her? I forgot that the Potters had an unfortunate habit of marrying filthy red-heads. Your father did it first, and now you're having a go—" Malfoy's eyes widened slightly as he was hit by three curses simultaneously. He crumpled to the floor where he lay, unmoving. There were a few seconds of silence.

"D'you reckon we just leave him here?" asked Ron, sounding hoarse. Harry felt his head jerk in a noncommittal sort of way. He stood, staring at Malfoy on the floor, wondering if the Cruciatus curse would affect an unconscious person.

"Harry," said a voice behind him. He turned around to see Ginny, the source of the third curse, who put her hand on his shoulder. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she said. "Just forget it, you know he just does it to make you angry." Harry's mind felt curiously blank.

"I'm fine," he said numbly, staring at a spot above her head.

"You're not," she said. "You're shaking like mad. Come on." She gripped his arm and led him back into the compartment. "Leave him, Ron," she said, for Ron was still staring at Malfoy's unconscious form. "He's not worth the trouble." Ron turned around and came back to the compartment, where he sat down heavily. Harry wished that Ginny hadn't heard Malfoy's words. As he thought this, the sentences swam in his head, making him feel sick. He put his head in his hands, staring at the floor. Ginny crouched down next to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked. He turned to look at her. Concern filled her deep, brown eyes as she swept a few strands of red hair behind her ear and looked at him.

"Malfoy insults my parents all the time. I'm used to it," he said. Ginny looked confused.

"Then why are you so angry?" she asked. Harry felt anger rise up again in his chest.

"Why aren't you angry?" he asked. "You're the one he threatened with Greyback, you're the one he called a—"

"A whore, yes," said Ginny, her eyes hardening. "Of course he's one to talk, with all the girls he's snuck around with behind Pansy's back," she said.

"What girls?" asked Ron. She ignored him.

"So why aren't you angry?" Harry asked bluntly. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I'm angry, Harry. Why do you think I cursed him? But in case you didn't notice, all of those insults were actually directed at you."

"No they—"

"He had a go at me because he knows we're close," she said impatiently. "You don't see him hurling jibes about Lavender Brown or Professor Binns, do you?"

"I would've defended Lavend—"

"Yes, we know Ronald, you are the great defender of the people," she snapped. "Anyways, it's over now. They're empty threats. Just learn to ignore them," Ginny finished, placing a hand on his arm. He felt his stomach perform the familiar somersault, and realized with a brief stab of annoyance that his half-deranged emotions were at least returning to normal.

"You sound like Hermione," said Harry, but stopped, seeing the look on Ron's face.

"In that case, you know I'm right," she said with a half smile, standing up. "Oh Ron for heaven's sake just apologize to her," she said, before leaving the compartment again, taking care to step on Malfoy's stomach with more force than was really necessary.

"Apologize?" said Ron defensively. "I don't need to apologize for anything. I wasn't the one who sent bloody canaries on her just for being in love." He turned to Harry, who shrugged. Malfoy's words still lurked in the air, and he tried to force them away as he helped himself to a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The sun had set outside, and the sky was drizzling a mix of snow and rain, which trickled down the windows of their compartment. Harry popped a jelly bean in his mouth and watched the progress of the slush on the windows. Ron had fallen silent too, probably thinking as well.

"Maybe they'll save her for last" he heard Malfoy's voice say again in the back of his mind.

Over my dead body, he thought. But still, that oath couldn't stop Malfoy's words from tasting as sour as what he now realized was certainly a vomit-flavored jelly bean.