Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 14: XIV

October 31st, 1998

She wipes her mouth. Smears what is likely already smudges of black all over her lips and chin. The gazes of her peers are heavy - almost painfully so - and she feels all she can do is clear her throat, straighten her corset and stride quickly from the Hall.

The cool air outside the gold doors sends a chill through her blood, and she shivers as she makes her way toward the Grand Staircase. Her cheeks are flaming, her heart thudding like a mallet in her chest. Footsteps echo behind her.

Someone is hot on her heels.

"Ginny, please-" She whips around, breathless, only to see Theodore Nott charging up the steps after her.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Granger?"

He's not who she expected, and she's unprepared. "Nott?" she says stupidly, almost in a daze.

He stops on the step below her, costumeless, smelling of alcohol. His face is pink with it, and also with anger. "Answer me," he snaps. So he isn't drunk enough to slur.

She gathers a breath. Speaks primly, with more focus. "I don't understand the question." And she's grateful her voice comes out steady. Turning, she resumes her march up the staircase, trying to calm the tremble in her fingertips, which is entirely Malfoy's doing.

But Nott follows her up, matching her stride and taking each step simultaneously. "Don't play dumb, Granger - you've never been an idiot."

"Neither have you, so I'd assume you can tell when someone's telling the truth," she quips, refusing to look at him. What he has to do with anything, she doesn't know. Clearly, he knew Malfoy's costume tonight, but she wouldn't have pinned him to be among the top ten most upset by their actions.

He'd have to wait in line.

"Whatever bollocks you're trying to pull with Malfoy had best stop now."

"Who are you? His father? What does it matter to you?" She lurches up two steps to get ahead of him, but he catches up quickly. She realizes she should be worried that he knows, even if he seems to be the only one. That's one more mouth to keep shut.

A silent fury builds in her stomach at Malfoy. The next time she sees him, she swears she'll-

"Like I've said before, Granger - I'm his Crutch. And I won't have you fucking with his head any more than you already have. Whatever you're doing, trying to make him trust you and what not, put a fucking end to it. Now."

She stops short, so quickly Nott almost trips. "Making him trust me?" She pins him with what she hopes is a vicious glare.

"Yeah, Granger. That's what I think you're fucking doing. Either that, or this is some pathetic 'Rehabilitate the Death Eaters' project of yours. Whichever way, I know you'll come out looking like the hero, and he'll end up in Azkaban or worse."

Nott's speech surprises her. It takes her a moment to form any response at all, and when she does, it comes amidst stuttering scoffs and huffs.

"I - you...what on Earth are you on about? Azkaban? A bloody kiss will hardly put a man in Azkaban."

Nott's thick brows converge over his eyes. His gaze darkens. "That wasn't just a kiss, Granger. We've established neither of us are idiots."

She sniffs. Tries to plaster an impassive expression onto her face, even as his words make her think more than she wants to. "You're drunk," she says. "Sleep it off. And if you're this upset, why don't you speak to your bloody Crutch about it? He's the one causing all the trouble."

She storms off ahead, and he doesn't follow. But he calls after her, "Oh, I have, Granger."

It makes her pause mid-step.