Picking Flowers

Summary: Ginny Weasley thought that a higher power would punish Draco Malfoy for his behaviour. She didn't think the higher power would kill him. And she definitely didn't think that his ghost would return--to haunt her.

| I | A Peacock on the Pitch

Ginny Weasley sighed in relief as she tasted her first breath of fresh air in over a week. The scent of autumn bloomed heavily on the cool evening, the smell of crisp, colouring leaves carried on the wind along with the aroma of late-blooming flowers. The grass Ginny's sneakered feet stepped out upon was a lush, unhindered green, and the sky above was lit brightly by the slowly descending sun. It was early October, and the castle grounds still carried the slight warmth of summer. An ever-increasing amount of work had kept her locked up in the castle for the past while, pouring over volumes of text on topics she was sure she would never need and writing essays until her hands were sore--but now, as the refreshing breeze whispered over her face and the sound of singing birds and rustling branches reached her ears, she soundly decided that she would never set foot in the castle ever again.

She could see the border where the grounds met the Forbidden Forest, a tangled mass of wildflowers and tinted leaves, and in the distance, she could make out the sparkling water of the lake. But neither of these places had made it on her list of destinations for today. With a kind of defiant confidence, she began to trudge across the large expanse of lawn towards the Quidditch pitch. There would be nothing like a good fly around the field on one of the school's standard broomsticks. Simply put, there could be no better way to relieve the tension of this past week. She could already feel the exhilaration of the wind in her hair, the weightlessness of soaring high above ground and the solid familiarity of a broom in her hands.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she already knew what she would find upon reaching the Quidditch pitch, even before she heard the awed gaggle of young female voices. She pushed her bottom lip out in a furious pout when she finally came upon them--a cluster of first and second year girls, huddled together and moving from one end of the field to the next, all straining to get the best view of a lone flier. Their voices were a fascinated, hormone-addled chorus of praise and admiration, and, to Ginny's repulsion, declarations of love. That's not to say the lone flier wasn't good at what he was doing--he was. Very, very good, in fact. He rode his broomstick like a man who owned the sky. Ginny found her cheeks colouring, and quickly turned away from the figure silhouetted against the sunset. She would not watch and give him more incentive to do what he was doing. The last thing anyone needed was someone like him hogging the entire field and plugging it up with all of his moonstruck fans.

This was not the first time she had seen him. At the beginning of the school year, before the work had bogged her down in the library, she had been coming out to the pitch every evening for a ride. She had managed it for the first few days only. After that, the Draco Malfoy show had taken over the area. She supposed it was not his fault entirely that the whole female population of first and second year found him and his skills on a broomstick so enrapturing--but Ginny knew that once his fanclub had been established, he had done nothing whatsoever to disband it. If anything, he had started showing off--the git! She mentally slapped herself for oggling a particularly daring cartwheel--the way his legs held the broom, so loosely, so carelessly, and the way his arms extended above his head as though it did not matter if he fell--and scowled at the especially loud cheer he garnered from the nearby girls. He had definitely started showing off.

Not that she cared at all, she assured herself. She didn't care one vomit flavoured bean to stare at that ponce while he fluffed his feathers. She just wanted the Quidditch pitch back! He was not the one who owned it, after all. The girls whooed again, and Ginny grit her teeth, glaring so hard at a few of them that she was sure they could feel tiny daggers poking them on their rears. Air-headed ninnies, the lot of them! Encouraging him like that did nothing towards getting her Quidditch field back--and it surely was unhealthy for Malfoy, as well. The arrogance that had dogged him like a shadow lately had to be from all this extra attention he was getting. His head might just get so big, it would explode! Merlin, there was no way God, or whatever higher power there might be, would allow him to behave like this for long.

Ginny blushed when she realized she had joined the crowd of girls, and had been avidly, if distastefully, observing Malfoy for the last few minutes. This was not what she had come here for at all! Still, she could not help but stare at him as he glided to the ground, making a particularly graceful landing before bowing to his audience. Ginny was abruptly aware of the fact that she was taller than pretty much every single one of the people surrounding her, and that her bright hair would probably do her no good in this situation, either. She tried to duck a moment too late. His silver eyes settled on her and locked.

"Well if it isn't the Weaselette! I guess I must be more handsome than I thought, eh ladies?" The girls cooed in agreement, practically falling over themselves to move out of the way as he stepped towards Ginny. As though he were some sort of prince that required people to move out of his way! Ginny wished she could have performed wandless magic, if only to thwap each one of those brainless girls on the backside. Still, she found herself stepping back as well, as though afraid to touch him. She shook herself, searching for a reply. It would not do to stand there like some sort of barmy idiot.

But he turned away before she could get a word in, and was trotting off towards the changerooms before she had even realized he was gone. The girls swarmed after him, like a pack of loyal puppies, and Ginny gaped in shock. Her pride bristled with the need for a retort, but within seconds she was only one standing on this side of the field! She chewed her lip, angrily, before turning around to stomp back to the castle, her good mood forgotten. God could not let Draco Malfoy get away with this kind of thing constantly! There would have to be some sort of retribution soon, or else Ginny figured she might go crazy.

It started as a rumour, as all of these things usually do. Someone had seen Pansy Parkinson having a nervous breakdown in the Great Hall, and Crabbe and Goyle had sobbed through their especially sizable breakfasts. Blaise Zabini, Severus Snape, and, more importantly, the main target of the rumour, Draco Malfoy, were no where to be seen. The whispers spread like fire across dried land in the halls of Hogwarts. By noon, every student had heard one variation of the tale or another, and a new version was on the lips of every other person. Ginny had no idea what to believe.

She told herself it was simply a curiousity to know what was going on in the castle. She searched out all of Hogwarts' best known gossips, eager for more information. So, finally, Draco Malfoy had been set in his place! But as the stories she heard grew more and more morbid, she could not deny that her 'curiousity' was turning to concern. She was not going to burst into tears like some of the first years, for sure, but she definitely hoped a rampant Hippogriff hadn't sniped the git off his broom and made away with both his legs.

Yes, she definitely hoped that hadn't happened. Malfoy actually had very nice legs--strong, if you will, and--

Ginny's quille came apart on her page, a large puddle of ink settling where she had previously been writing. She cursed, was given a stern look by McGonagal, and then inspected the broken nib of her last quille. All of these rumours were getting to her head. Too much Draco Malfoy on the mind for one day could not be healthy at all. It definitely wasn't a good combination with Transfiguration. She pressed her fingers to her temples, and then realized that she had ink on her hands. Swearing again--and earning herself yet another sharp look--Ginny gave up trying to do anything at all. She placed her hands on the table, where she could not smear herself with more ink, and sat out of the rest of the period--wondering why, for Circe's sake, she was so out of sorts.

It was officially announced at dinner. The Great Hall had been a clamour of speculation, alive and noisy with the voices of a hundred inquiring students and smelling like freshly baked bread, roasted potatoes and fresh gossip. Ginny had been trying to listen in on as many conversations as possible. Struck down by a stray bolt of lightening in the middle of the night? Kidnapped and tortured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before being left for dead on the steps of Dumbledore's office? Her eyes were practically crossed with all of the wild possibilities.

Dumbledore had risen from his seat at the front of the room. Although everyone had seemed absorbed in their own talk, the silence was almost immediate. It felt heavy and tense compared to the bedlam moments before. The old man, with his bright purple robes and flowing beard, was usually the image of joviality--but in this moment, he managed to look both sad and grim despite his bizarre attire. He did not begin his speech with the string of nonsense he was known for. His voice did not ring out with cheerfulness, and when his words were finished, the hall did not erupt into enthusiastic applause.

Instead, a terrible, mournful wailing started up. It seemed to fill the room, right up to the vaulted, magical ceiling.

There was a throbbing deep in her chest. Ginny looked down to find both her hands clasped, tightly, over her heart.

Author's Note: This is basically a little random idea I had and needed to write. It's a light little thing I decided I had to put down while I'm slugging through my own novel. Yes, my own novel. The one that might have been in stores on spring 2010 had I followed my agent/editor's timeline. But no, of course not. Anyhow.

Review please! The next chapter will be out soon.