Ginny Weasley busily folded her last piece of clothing and pushed it into her composition paper suitcase as the June sun beat down on her from her open window. Her red hair was pulled back into a haphazard plait and small tendrils were falling into her coffee eyes, hazing her vision just slightly. She sighed perceptibly as she fell against her rickety bed, collapsing in a heap of hand made bed linens and pillows.

“Ginny, the train is leaving in twenty minutes,” Hermione Granger called from the doorway, smiling as sweetly as possible at the sighing girl. Her own auburn hair was clipped against the back of her head and she was standing in the least revealing bathing suit she had to have owned.

“Yes I know Hermione, thanks.”

“Are you ready to go yet?” she asked warmly, moving to sit beside her. Ginny moaned as she sat up, running a freckle smattered arm across her forehead. Yes, she had thought a lot about her summer since she applied for the position. Her job had been puzzling, to say the least. No detail, only an address to report to promptly. But she needed the money, and going away to do so would be the most beneficial thing at the moment. She nodded solemnly as two more bodies appeared at her doorway, one the spitting image of her and the other, slightly shorter, was bespectacled.

“Hullo Ron…Harry.”

“Hey Gin, you ready for your first day on the job?” Harry questioned her timidly, barely stepping inside the sun filtered room. Ron on the other hand had crossed the room flamboyantly and punched his sister lightly in the shoulder before rubbing her head absentmindedly with his palms. She groaned at him as he released her and she stood.

“I will be fine. Tutoring can’t honestly be that horrible.”

“Even though you don’t know who it is,” Ron interjected.

“Does that really matter?” Ginny shot back defensively, “I obviously have the marks for Dumbledore to even request me to tutor someone in Charms, so I am sure whoever it is won’t be too much to handle.”

“You will do wonderfully Gin,” Hermione responded, almost in a faux attempt to smooth over Ron’s obviously blundered statement. This only made Ginny cringe more, as the thought of her brother and Hermione dating only brought sickness to her stomach. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like Hermione, quite the contrary she really admired the girl. But their new relationship only kept Ginny at a farther distance from the group of friends that she had found herself trying to be accustomed to living quite desolately. And, even at her age, desolate was never enjoyable.

Both Ron and Hermione stood awkwardly, grabbing each other’s hands and sliding out of the room.
Probably to snog, Ginny thought to herself, as she watched the couple go. She began to shuffle through the remaining of her belongings, making her bed, and straightening up before she realized that Harry still stood at her doorway, staring oddly at her through his spectacles.

“Do you need something Harry?” she asked cautiously, keeping her back to him as she moved about her room.

“No, just wanted to properly say goodbye I suppose,” he muttered. She turned then, suitcase in hand, and her eyes scanned him covetously. He had always been “perfect” in her mind, even before she had met him. It probably had started those late nights when she was little, when her mother would sit her down and tell her stories of the wizard that had saved them all. Or it could have started when he had rescued her from the Basilisk second year, winning over her heart in his heroic triumph. But she knew more than anything, now in the summer before her sixth year at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, that he wasn’t “perfect”. He was arrogant and self centered and thought he could save the world single handedly. Yes, his emerald eyes shown brightly regardless of the hour of the day and his hair was always in such a disarray that it made him look perfectly windswept, but he wasn’t perfect for he had rejected her the year before. She winced at the memory but smiled as undauntedly as she could muster.

“Well then, goodbye Harry,” she spoke softly in an attempt to remove the sorrow from her voice. It seemed as if he had heard it regardless because he was now standing only inches from her, prying the suitcase from her hands.

“Don’t forget me this summer,” he whispered, “I never meant to hurt you…and I don’t want to lose you.” His hands were on her waist and he was only inches from her now, his hot breaths landing across the bridge of her nose and burning at the already developing tears in her eyes.

“You already have Harry,” she sighed; pulling away from the one person she thought she had always loved, “I’ll see you at the end of the summer.”


Ginny walked briskly up the cobblestone sidewalk, surveying her directions as she moved. The light June breeze fluttered the parchment in her hands while it played with the hem of her skirt and the ends of her hair, causing her to stop every few seconds to fix this or that. The train ride had been quite a bore and she hadn’t realized how long it had taken; now only just realizing she was perfectly defined as ‘late’ and she had yet to find the house she was looking for. Her client for the summer had insisted upon giving her hand written directions and making her take muggle transportation to find the house, which was almost impossible in the type of area she was in. The houses were all almost identical, with hundreds of small windows and wonderfully sculpted yards.

She stopped at the driveway scripted with the lettering ‘419’. She hurried up the long driveway to the front of the house, making her way along the brightly colored begonias and tulips in the gardens before her. The door knocker itself was made of solid iron, coiled into the shape of a tongued serpent, and it took most of her 16 year old strength to lift it barely an inch. Almost immediately the door opened to reveal a paling long haired girl in a forest green maid’s uniform. She moved aside and allowed Ginny to walk in, before shutting the door behind her.

“Welcome…Ms. Weasley…I presume?” The girl asked politely, staring at her abnormally.

“Yes...” Ginny started, unsure of what to say, “This is…a…wizarding…”

“Yes ma’am this is a wizarding household,” the maid interrupted, grabbing the suitcase from her hand and moving towards a long corridor to the left, “The Mistress wants to keep up the outlook in this neighborhood during the summer holidays, so she sticks to strictly muggle utilities. Since this is only the summer house, it isn’t as necessary to keep up…how do you say…appearances? Besides, this gives her a better outlook on the ways of muggles. If you would follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

Ginny kept a close distance to the maid, as the house was massive, and every corridor seemed to only have another leading off of it to another portion of the house. It was definitely elongated, but by magic or just natural construction she wasn’t sure. Finally, in a corridor laced in green rugs and blacked walls, the maid stopped at a wooden door.

“This is your room Ms. Weasley. The dinner bell rings promptly at six every night, and you are expected in the main dining hall by six thirty. A servant will be up to wake you in the morning. Please be on time. If you need anything, just find me, I reside two corridors to the left and then one to the right of you, fifth room.” The maid turned and walked away briskly, leaving Ginny alone.


Ginny strode the halls breathlessly, turning down this one and then retreating and turning down another. Most of the halls were the same, covered in plushy green carpeting and blackened walls. A few had torches lining the walls here and there, but other than that she could make no distinguish of where she was going. The dinner bell had rung what seemed like hours ago and she had spent most of her time searching for the main dining hall. She had found two washrooms, a ballroom, and even a drawing room in her haste, but her main destination was yet to be found.

After what seemed like another ten minutes she came to a large reception area, covered with polished floors and ascending staircases. She smiled at herself in the floor, the reflection of her red hair, coffee eyes, and timid lavender dress smiling back up at her. She danced around in a circle for a moment, almost falling as a raspy voice interrupted her. A man, adorned in a black tuxedo, was standing on the other side of the area, staring at her oddly.

“Ms. Weasley, you are late for dinner as it is, I would suggest to follow me and to stop ogling over yourself in the floor that probably needs waxing now,” He sneered before shoving off. She followed hastily. After a few twists and turns they came upon a spacious room, only adorned with a long mahogany table, which was only accompanied by two individuals. She briskly walked towards them. Upon reaching their sides she curtseyed and smiled. The woman sitting at the head of the table had long white blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist and eyes the color of sapphires. She was smiling coolly, although her fingers were tapping against the table in an annoyed fashion.

“I told you she wouldn’t be prompt mother,” A voice she knew only too well came from her side, and she spun wildly. A boy, possibly only a year older than her, sat snidely with his eyes transfixed on hers; silver gray eyes that seemed to cut into her skin and peel at her every nerve. His hair was tossed to one side in its usual fashion, almost a clearer blonde than that of his mother’s. His nose was upturned to her and his lips were pulled back in his almost name-worthy smirk.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor at Aberdeen Ms. Weasley. I would like to introduce you to my son, Draco Malfoy,” the woman spoke, cutting the air like butter. Ginny faked a smile as she withdrew the mahogany chair and sat herself swiftly, “I presume you already have discovered your room…and found it to be in great fashion.”

“Yes Ms. Malfoy but you see…”

“Now Ms. Weasley, I must have you understand,” the woman started simply, her eyes barely glancing up to meet Ginny’s own, “Although, in other households, tutors may be more…how you say…valued by their employers, I kid you not. You are not considered to be an ‘equal’ by any state in this house hold. You will dress the same as the other maids and butlers of this house; you will act cordially and speak only when addressed to. You will arrive to meals on time and you will eat with us like a normal human being, that is the only, and I repeat the only benefit you gain in this household other than your keep. Your time here will be to my discretion and my discretion only. When I believe you have concluded your work, and only then, will you be excused. To you, I am ‘Mistress Malfoy” and that title only. Do I make myself clear Ms. Weasley, or must I repeat myself? I remember far too well how…inattentive Weasley’s can be,” she spoke smoothly and enunciated her speech perfectly, making Ginny only dislike her more. If it were possible, she imagined smoke would be fuming from her ears, it was common knowledge that she was not the member of the family to hold their temper wisely, especially when it came down to slandering the people she cared for.

“Yes ma’am,” she forced through gritted teeth. The blonde woman smiled, as much as she probably could, and then clapped her hands together. The maid that Ginny had seen at the door entered promptly, carrying several large silver platters, piled high with the most exquisite food Ginny had ever seen. She stared at large piles of sliced beef shank as her mouth began to water, her fingers twirling in the fabric of her dress, begging to be able to just grab a piece of the warm tender meat. Another maid, a stout bulky woman with choppy blonde hair was pouring goblets of pumpkin juice for each person around the table, humming silently to herself as she brushed past Ginny and moved back towards the kitchen. The chewing of food caused Ginny to look directly into Draco’s eyes, as he was currently stuffing a piece of potato into his impeccably bright mouth.

“Are you going to stare at the food already in my mouth all evening or are you going to eat your own?” he hissed, running his tongue across his mouth.

“I wouldn’t want to eat a thing you ever touched Draco,” she whispered, barely audible, but apparently he had heard as his cheeks were now turning a visible purple color, as they usually did when he got angry. She smiled to herself.

“Mother, how long must Ms. Weasley accompany us at meals?” Draco asked heatedly, although it seemed he was trying his best to keep his composure, which only caused Ginny to chuckle lightly, “None of the other workers eat with us, I really don’t understand why she has special privileges.”

“She hasn’t touched a thing yet my dear, let her eat,” the woman spoke harshly, turning her attention back to her own plate and ignoring the hushed commentaries coming from Draco’s side of the table. Meanwhile, Ginny had busied herself with the food, which was remarkably delicious, and far more appetizing than anything she would receive at home. Her mother was a decent cook, and she rarely ever complained, but having large portions (regardless of the number of people in the house) was a commodity.

“Draco dear, I believe it is time for Ms. Weasley and I to have some financial discussions,” the woman spoke briefly.
“But mother…”

“Go Draco,” she spoke pointedly and he stood up, bowed to her, and turned heatedly from the room, “You must forgive him my dear, he is quite a sweet boy but alas he isn’t quite taken with the idea of having a tutor. Master Malfoy doesn’t even know I hired one for him,” Ginny shivered uncontrollably at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, the man who had led her to being taken over by the most powerful dark wizard in the world, “Is something wrong dear? I didn’t scare you off now did I?”

“No, nothing at all ma’am,” Ginny lied, glaring at the woman. If her words alone were considered, it might have seemed that she was attempting to redeem herself in Ginny’s eyes. But her tone as well as the soft yet foul stare she was giving Ginny said otherwise, “but if I may ask, why did you hire me?”

“Well you see Draco was doing terribly in charms class as it was. Back when the Malfoy name actually stood ground in the wizarding world, Flitwick would have had a lot more problems in failing my boy. But after the war and all…you see…it is impeccable that Draco get good marks. He can’t become an…well he just can’t take up the profession he wants if he doesn’t have good charms marks. Flitwick originally suggested that muggle-born girl, who was it, something with a G. Yes that was it, that Granger girl, but Draco refused to have her anywhere near him. So Professor Flitwick suggested you as well, and I didn’t even bother asking Draco about it,” the woman smiled again, “He will adjust to you Ms. Weasley. He honestly is a good natured boy, but he just takes time. He takes after his father too much, I suppose. Now, on to other buisness…about your uniform…”


Ginny finally made her way back to her room around 9, her eyelids falling heavily upon her coffee eyes. The room was slightly cold, but she didn’t mind, as the dress she was wearing was confining her body to barely any air. She pulled out of the restricting dress and grabbed a periwinkle nightdress, letting the material slip over her overheated skin. She pulled back the white bedclothes, tossing most aside, and left behind only one small sheet, which she pulled around her body as she sprawled her hair across the pillow. From her bed she could see the armoire with her new wardrobe in it, the same uniform of the maids she had seen earlier. Mistress Malfoy had said it had been for “conformity”, although Ginny was sure Draco had suggested it just to have a nice laugh over. Summer had barely started, and she was already finding herself regretting applying before sleep even came over her.

Ginny opened her eyes groggily to the sound of movement in her room, causing the original state of sleepiness to edge away quickly, overcoming her with panic. Her hand outstretched to the nightstand and she grabbed her wand rapidly, not as if it would do any good; she was simply too tired to concentrate on what spells she was allowed to use now that she was an instructor. But she tightened her grip around the piece of wood anyway, daring her eyes to inspect the room for her intruder.

A young girl, maybe only nineteen, was standing near the armoire. Her back was to Ginny and she was busily shifting through the layers of green fabric hanging within. She was a rather frail woman, since Ginny could see most of the armoire around her, not the typical body persona of one who would be breaking in. Ginny sat up and stared at her more perceptively, taking in the girl’s mop of curly black hair and ghost white skin. When she finally turned around, Ginny was met with a pair of emerald eyes before a small gasp emitted the girl’s ruby red lips, making Ginny jump.

“Quite sorry Missus, but I hadn’t known you had woke up yet,” the girl spoke with a heavy southern accent, one Ginny was sure she had never heard before. She was now fanning herself lightly with her left hand, “Are you gunna sit around all day Missus? I dun think that the Mistress wants a late nanny, no sir.”

“I’m not a nanny,” Ginny spoke.

“Of course not Missus, I didn’t mean that. Clumsy of me I reckon,” the girl spoke again, pressing a folded dress into Ginny’s lap, patting the fabric lightly, “Now you best go dress, breakfast isn’t a necessary occasion but it would be best if you showed up,” she hustled towards the door.

“Wait, who are you?” Ginny asked.

“Missus, not to insult you or nuffin, but us maids aren’t supposed to be on namely basis with anyone’s,” Ginny stood awkwardly, still adorned in her periwinkle nightdress, and walked towards her, extending her right hand to the girl. She must have looked a right mess, standing in her nightclothes without slippers on or her hair brushed and her wand in one hand, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“I’m Ginny.”

The girl stared at her for a few minutes, as if she were trying to digest her hand into some sort of meaning, before grabbing it with her own and shaking it roughly, “I’m Maryanne Missus. Now I must be goin…I will see you later today,” she was out of the door before Ginny could say another word, so she turned back towards her unmade bed and the green silk lying on top of it.


Ginny moved quickly through the halls of Malfoy Manor, her dress moving swiftly around her ankles in almost silent snaps with her pace. She was late again, not exactly what she had hoped for on the first day of her job, but none-the-less she had determined the quickest route to the drawing room (having found it the day before) where she would give Draco his first lesson.

Pushing the door back, she took in the white walls of the room. The normal easels and painting supplies had been pushed back into one corner; the center of the room now exposed to just a single blackboard, a set of tinker toys, and two chairs. A small heap of parchment paper and a few ink bottles and quills sat in a box near the chalkboard. It was the first room that Ginny noticed to have a window, casting a bright golden yellow glow onto her teaching supplies.

“You ready to start this yet Weasel? I really don’t have all day, and moreover I reckon spending time with you isn’t exactly going to appeal to my schedule,” a voice called behind her, making ripples run up the back of her spine and her temper to grow. Draco moved around her and stepped towards one of the chairs, sinking into it haughtily and smirking at her.

“The name is Ms. Weasley to you Malfoy,” she spat, taking the chair across from him.
“Not a chance Weasel.”

“How am I supposed to teach you if you won’t even treat me like a true teacher?” she spat again, picking up a quill, a piece of parchment, and a bottle of ink.

“Beats me, I don’t know why you applied for this goddamned position anyway.”

“I didn’t know I would be teaching a bloody prat like you,” she scolded, roughly pushing the supplies into his hands, “But since I have to, we might as well just go to work. Write down what exactly you are having trouble with, I don’t want to waste my time either,” he scowled at her, just slightly, before opening the bottle of ink and writing. After just a second he shoved the parchment back to her.

The fact that I actually have to spend my summer holiday with a bothersome little wench like you.

She wanted to scream, but didn’t, as he began to laugh wickedly, an action not even to be called a laugh since it seemed to hold no humorous emotion. He hadn’t seen her pull her wand from her pocket, or point it at the bottle of ink, or say the soft incantation that made the ink bottle float easily through the air, moving swiftly above Draco’s head.

“Malfoy?” she called and he looked towards her, at the wand that was now pointing at him. She flicked the tip just lightly and the entire bottle came crashing down on top of him, ebony ink spilling over his white blonde hair and settling against his skin.

“Argh! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing Weasel!” he shouted, jumping up in an attempt to brush the ink off him, only causing it to settle into his robes, which were once a dazzling midnight blue color.

“That is where we can start…cleaning charms,” she spoke, “They are a necessity in almost every household and provide quick clean up in almost any situation. Of course, if you don’t want to actually learn, then you could walk around like that all day. Believe me; it won’t come off with just water and soap,” she chuckled. Two could play his games.

“FINE,” he screamed, sitting himself again. Ginny stood and moved towards the blackboard, scribbling the word ‘Scourgify’ in perfect loopy letters. Next to it, she drew the shape of an upside down cursive L, drawing arrows along its points. Draco remained quiet save for a few grumbles here and there as he picked at his stained clothing.

“Right. This is the cleaning charm, its pretty simple actually, you just say it as you do the movement I exampled on the board,” Ginny stated, “You finish it off by pointing at the object that you want to clean. Your lovely hair is a perfect example Malfoy, although personally, I’d leave it that shade. It suits you,” she giggled just slightly. He only just reacted to her, his cheeks turning purplish again, as he pointed his wand at himself and moved it as she had spoken, before muttering the words under his breath. His hair moved just slightly, became a sickening gray color, and then laid flat against his head again. His robes were now the color of his hair, with slight chunks of remaining midnight blue.

“Try harder Malfoy,” she coaxed.

“You should teach better,” he scowled.

“It isn’t my problem that you never paid an ounce of attention in your six years at Hogwarts,” she responded barely, making it seem as if she didn’t care.

“It also isn’t my fault that you are so poor you need to tutor students for a simple Knut,” he scowled again. In a second she was at his side, her wand pointed at his hair.

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” she hissed, “Or that ghastly colored hair of yours won’t be your only worry,” she turned defiantly and began to whisper things about the cleaning charm, hoping he was paying attention, unaware of his eyes that were lingering on her. He was staring at her, at her bright red hair with shades of auburn reflecting from the sun. Her eyes, the color of the coffee his mother drank daily, were rummaging through things and yet refusing to meet his eye. There was something about her, he thought, something she kept from most people. She didn’t falter at his crudeness, but instead lashed out at him equally as cruel, a temper he rarely had seen at Hogwarts. In fact, she had been quite the shrew at Hogwarts. What had changed?

“You have quite a temper Weasel,” he whispered, in an almost inaudible tone. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing about him in an attempt to understand what exactly he expected from her after that commentary.

“I suppose you could say that,” she whispered back, “Can we please just finish this lesson?”


Ginny trudged through the tall grass. The blades were nipping at her ankles as she brushed along, entangling herself in a sea of tulips, lilies, and daffodils. She fell backwards onto her back, taking in the syrupy scent of the flowers surrounding her. The ground was cool for a June afternoon and from her view she could just make out the jumbled shapes of cotton ball clouds in the effervescent blue sky. The courtyard she had resided herself to was larger than any she had ever seen. In the center sat a small crystalline lake, whose water rippled just slightly despite the lack of any wind. A tree sat just inches from her; a long wooden swing hanging from one of its many branches.

“You are going to ruin that dress if you lay like that Weasel,” an edgy and raspy voice called from behind her. She refused to look back, to look and see who was calling to her, and instead settled on staring at the sky. She could feel his presence drawing nearer, his footsteps moving closer to her left side. He was standing above her now, his finally clean blonde hair blocking every view of the sky and casting an annoying sun kissed glare into her eyes.

“Care to move?” she voiced.

“No,” was all he said, as he extended a hand. She looked up at him, quite puzzled, “I had to pay for part of that uniform you are wearing. It’s bad enough that a Weasel is contaminating it, but Merlin knows you couldn’t afford to buy another one even if you tried.”

“I am not a dirty person Malfoy,” she spat angrily.

“You are a Weasley though,” he whispered. It would appear he had grown tired of standing over her, for he now took a seat in the grass next to her, plucking a pale ginger tulip and bringing it to his nose, “Mmm, the sweet smell of tulips. Not even you can ruin this sort of day Weasel.”

“How touching, the ice block actually has a heart,” she pursed her lips, staring at him intently.

“Malfoy’s don’t have hearts,” he said indifferently, tossing the tulip aside.

“Why did you come out here Malfoy? I was perfectly fine sitting alone.”

“I have nothing else to do,” he stated glumly. She stifled a laugh to the best of her ability, the color in her cheeks noticeably rising, “What Weasel?”

“I have never heard of a Malfoy who would rather spend time talking to a Weasley then finding something to do,” she spoke in short breaths to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yes well…” he started but stopped at the realization of having nothing to say. He twirled his fingers in the grass, plucking a few pieces and tossing them different ways. His mind seemed to be searching for something and Ginny couldn’t help but think that he looked…cute? She couldn’t say that, he was a Malfoy after all and the only person besides his father that she had grown to despise in her entire life, “Did you hear me Weasel?” he had obviously said something as she had been thinking, and she shook her head in response, “Figures, mother was right when she said you were all inattentive,” he sneered.

“Must you always berate my family Malfoy?” she spoke, thoroughly annoyed with him.

“I think…” he stopped, as if contemplating something, before his mouth broke into a rather large, dumpy grin, “yes I think I do.”

“Well okay, as long as it is justified,” she spoke indignantly, brushing a lone hair out of her face.

“What…no retort? No comeback? Come on Weasley, I thought we were getting better at this game,”

“No…you aren’t worth it,” she stated simply, “You will always berate my family, you will always think you are better than everyone else, and you will always think that you know everything about everyone when in reality, you haven’t got a clue. I will always have no respect for your lousy miniature self, so why bother with protesting?”

“Miniature?” he asked, unsure of her meaning.

“Yes miniature,” she huffed, her face turning a light rosy color in the heat that was slowly accumulating, “At least I am my own person Malfoy. At least in my family, people are expected to be individuals, not carbon copies. You are nothing more than a sorry excuse for a replica of the most despicable man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” she spoke heatedly, before standing and smoothing out her dress, “Goodbye Lucius,” her voice was flat, without very much context at all, but the meaning behind her heart-piercing words was quite evident. She took off towards the door to the courtyard, her red hair swinging against the nape of her neck.

She hadn’t seen it, her back to him, but his knuckles, gripping the blades of grass near him, were now sheet white. His gray eyes had lost their shimmer, and his mouth was pinned in a straight line.

“I am…” he started, breathily and stony,
“Nothing…”
“like…”
“that…”
“Bastard…”

Ginny looked up from her notebook to find Draco staring at her oddly, his gray eyes squinted and his mouth drawn into a straight line. He hadn’t spoken to her in days. It wasn’t as if Ginny missed the impeccably brash sound of his voice, but she couldn’t stand his obedience. Following her instructions dutifully, listening to her speak, even not calling her “Weasel” was beginning to aggravate her. He seemed to have lost his bravado as he graciously handed her two rolls of parchment dealing with Locking charms.

“Draco…” she started, setting the unread rolls aside. He stared at her and the parchment, his eyes darting back and forth unrelentlessly, “I’m sorry if what I said offended you.”

“Did you mean it?” he asked, his voice choppy and unrecognizable, “If you meant it, don’t apologize,” he closed his lips again into the straight line that only seemed to irk Ginny, so she continued to press on.

“You know, this is completely ridiculous. One minute we’re fighting and at each others throats, the next you’re acting like you don’t hate me, which I know isn’t true. Why don’t we just let bygones be bygones and be friends, even if only for the summer?”

His lips quivered, “Malfoy’s don’t have friends, especially not those who associate with the likes of Potter.”

“Civil then?”

“You already judged me,” he spoke, barely audible, “You think I’m just like Lucius.”

“Prove me wrong,” she sputtered, unsure of where her courage to contradict an already angered Draco Malfoy was coming from. He had the same reaction, for his eyes were now burning into her like hot coals, “Oh, and its first name basis. I really don’t think ‘Weasel’ suits me. It could possibly be worse than Ginevra,” she smiled as best she could, his eyes flashing again before returning to their nostalgic state.

“Fine Ginny, fine.”


“Maryanne!” Ginny called down the long corridor, skipping along barefooted with her heeled shoes in her hands. Her green uniform, which normally coiled around her ankles, now hung loosely near her knees and bunched at her waist. Her normally pin straight hair laid in rumpled tresses, flying every which way about her head. She was screaming as she skipped, her feather-light voice echoing back to her off the murky walls.

Ginny never saw the door open to her left, or the mop of black curls and snow white skin come into the hallway, and as physics would have it, Ginny couldn’t stop her motion. With a smack she hit the girl full force and both toppled to the floor in an array of arms and legs. Ginny was giggling from the floor, her dress now lying in disarray around her knees and her hair sprawled out underneath her. She had lost her heels in the fall for they had connected with something solid in Maryanne’s hand, whom was now lying beside Ginny with her hands on her stomach, howling in laughter. Both girls looked a right mess as Ginny sat up and brushed off her knees as best as she could. Maryanne’s hair was more frazzled than usual and her normally ghostly pale cheeks were tinted in crimson, tears of laughter spreading down her face in snail-like trails. Ginny gave her a hand to lift the two of them up and they brushed off some more. Maryanne’s lips curled into a frown as Ginny picked up her discarded heels along with a small, palm sized book. The cover was a lightly tinted brown color, the faded words Easy Reader barely visible from years of probable use.

“Maryanne, what’s this?” Ginny asked tentatively, showing the girl the book. Her eyes, once filled with happy emotion, now drew back into her head as if trying to hide herself from Ginny’s questions. As Ginny opened her mouth to speak, another voice came from inside the neglected doorway, “Same time next week Maryanne? Hopefully we’ll have more time and my mother won’t feel the need to call me away every two seconds. Just keep at it, you’ll get better soon.”

Ginny tried to yell at the person to stop but it was too late, they were already out of the room and moving into her, sending her sprawling onto her back. She hit the floor with a thud and winced in pain as the speaker’s knee landed on her upper thigh. The pitter patter of feet signaled to her that Maryanne had run away, and Ginny was left alone in the corridor with the person who had knocked her down. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at similar orbs of gray and couldn’t help but groan.

Maybe she had never cared to notice before, but these gray eyes had flecks of blue in them, making them deeper and more mysterious then ever before. The man’s cheeks were tinted just slightly and he was breathing heavily, his warm breath falling just across the bridge of her freckle smattered nose. His hair, which she normally saw gelled back in perfection laid haphazardly across his brow, which was furrowed deep into his eyelids. His fingers were on her waist holding her still, and while one of his legs lay atop hers the other were sprawled between her own. Her eyes lingered on his lips for just a moment, which were thin and a light almost salmon color that made her want to…she shook her head violently, sending them both out of the reverie of the moment. The man stood and picked her up, placing her flat on her feet again.

“I shouldn’t have knocked you down Ginny,” Draco whispered, running a hand through his pearly blonde hair.

“It was an accident, as much my fault as yours,” she replied, smoothing out her dress and letting the bunch fall so it regained its composure near her ankles, “But may I ask what you were doing with Maryanne?”

“No,” he turned abruptly and walked away. Ginny stared at him leaving, at the curve of his back and of his…oh for gods sakes she was staring at his bum!

“I really am losing it here,” she whispered to herself, walking briskly back down the hall towards her bedroom, “Honestly, staring at Malfoy like he’s anything less then what he was years ago,” she chided herself, trying her best to shake him from her mind, “I was only caught up in the moment, who wouldn’t be if a man landed on you out of no where?” she spoke aloud to no one in particular, finally finding her door and pushing it open. Her bed had been made, fresh linens were lying out, and a note was taped to her dressing mirror.

Ms. Weasley,
Draco needs to go into Diagon Alley for his school supplies today. As his tutor, I have decided that you shall accompany him since I am not currently available to do so. Pick up your school supplies as well, that way I do not have to give you off to do so later in the summer.
Mistress Malfoy

Ginny scowled noticeably. It wasn’t that she minded being asked to do such chores, but she didn’t want to see Draco at the moment. Not while things were as confusing as they were. Sighing, she moved towards the bed where a new dress was lying, a beautiful piece of silken blue material and a large white satin sash. She smiled as she slipped into it, a greater smile playing across her lips as the chilling fabric created goose bumps on her arms. She grabbed the money bag off her counter, frowning from its light weight, but none-the-less she placed it in her pocket for safe keeping. No sooner had she done so was there a knock at her door.

“Come on Ginny, stop primping and let’s go. I want to get to Diagon Alley as quickly as possible, Merlin knows I don’t want to be seen with you,” Draco’s voice boomed from the other side.

Insufferable prat she thought, pushing out the door.


Diagon Alley was surprisingly empty for the end of June, only a few young witches and wizards moving throughout the narrow streets. The Quidditch store must have received new broomsticks, for the few children that could be found on the streets were huddled around the window, shouting things like ‘It’s brand new!’ and ‘Best model yet my pop said!’ Ginny wished to go and look at the broomstick too, but she stopped herself, knowing full well that she could never pay for something so grand. Playing Chaser on the Gryffindor house team was starting to become difficult with only a very old Cleansweep, but without money it was the best she could do. She didn’t get her paycheck for another week and maybe then, if she was lucky, she could buy something even close to that grand.

“What are you staring at Ginny?” Draco asked casually.

“Nothing, lets get going. Where do we have to go?” she asked abruptly, turning her gaze from the front of the Quidditch shop.
“Flourish and Blotts first. Then I think the robes shop. Mother hinted that there’s going to be another Yule Ball, and I need new dress robes,” she followed in his shadow lamely, staring at all the different things along the way. The Three Broomsticks was almost empty; a small man standing outside with a butterbeer seemed to be the only customer. Gringotts, the barely standing Goblin-run wizarding bank also seemed to be empty since the doors were shut. Draco seemed to go unaffected by the lack of people, for he was walking faster and faster by the second, reaching Flourish and Blotts in no time.

The store was musty and almost empty, a few students Ginny recognized were moving around the store. She took a left and headed down an isle on Charms books, looking for a new one she had yet to purchase. While her money bag was light, she knew she had enough money for a new book, and she wanted it badly. Eying the cover, which was painted with flying feathers and self-washing plates, she smiled boldly and moved towards the counter. Standing in front of her was Colin Creevy, a school mate of hers, with light brown mousy hair and a portable camera. He smiled at her and waved, immediately starting her in a conversation.

Draco Malfoy watched her from across the store as he fingered a new Potions book. He always admired her laugh, it was big and boisterous with just the right amount of lift. She was bolder and wittier then he had ever imagined; he had learned that when she had first came to tutor him, and her spark made him wonder why she was put in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. While he knew she was brave, she also could be quite puny when it came to certain things, like her family’s economical stance.

He liked the fact that they were being civil instead of always arguing, for she was a very intelligent girl and someone he could actually talk to. Yes, she had upset him extremely with the comment about Lucius, but he had put that behind him. No one really understood his stance on his father, and he wasn’t about to talk it over with her or anyone for that matter. It was a guarded area in his opinion. He shivered visibly as he thought of Lucius; away somewhere in Northern Ireland for what he called a “business meeting”, something Draco recognized as nothing more than a Death Eater convention. He hated him for being a Death Eater, contrary to probable belief. His mother always suffered the brunt of Lucius’ foul moods, and Draco detested the ways he treated the family he supposedly “loved.” That was why Draco had been planning to go into his career field of choice. Why Ginny had been hired in the first place.

His thoughts immediately fled from Lucius and instead lingered on the girl that was now paying the cashier, a small book in her hands. Her hair was beautiful, just the right length and a wonderful mass of curly locks. He had always thought it contrasted nicely with her slightly pale and freckled skin. Being civil to her was making him notice more and more things about her, things that only could be considered dangerous for a Malfoy and things that should be cleared from his mind. But he just couldn’t forget them. He couldn’t forget her smile, the few times he had seen it, or the hurt in her eyes when he insulted her. Why she became emotional with his words, he wasn’t sure, but it was something unusual to see a girl as strong as her break down over one thing. Moreover, he kept thinking of her body, and the way it felt under his.

He couldn’t lie to himself about what had happened earlier in the corridor. Falling on her had caused him to see just the slightest flash of the skin of her hip, almost smiling up at him from beneath her dress that shouldn’t have been up that high. For the first time ever he had looked directly into her eyes, eyes the color of coffee with hints of caramel and gold. Her lips were larger than anything he had ever seen, and as his fingers moved against her waist he had wanted to kiss her.

“Ready to go Draco?” she asked as she reached his side, grabbing at his arm to leave. He sighed and followed her, watching her move in front of him. Why was he paying any attention to her? It wasn’t usual for Malfoy’s to care about anyone at all, let alone Weasley’s. They weren’t considered equals by a long shot, and he had grown up knowing that it was wrong to give Weasley’s the time of day. But the more he knew Ginny, Ginny the girl; he started to realize that she was more than just a poor red head.

They reached a corner store and he stopped abruptly at a sign that read ‘Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.’

“What the bloody hell is this?” he snapped.

“It’s my brothers’ store. I want to stop in and talk. You can stay out here if you want,” she snapped back, stepping through the arched doorway. He only watched her, and after a moment of consideration (the June wind was quite nippy this afternoon) he decided to follow her. The store shocked him in every way. Walls were covered in sweets and gadgets, things he never would have considered Fred and George Weasley capable of making. He stopped at a cart that read ‘Ton Tongue Toffee’ and stared at it for a moment, before a girl with skin the color of coffee and cream and hair that was crazily beaded came up to him.

“Want a free sample?” she asked him, and he recognized her as Angelina Johnson, the old Chaser from the Gryffindor team. He smiled and took a piece of the multicolored candy, licking his lips as its savory blueberry taste burned the back of his throat. It tasted so good, like a million of taste buds were lapping at it. He smirked at Angelina.

“itsgood,” he choked, unsure as to why his words were coming out so slurred. She only laughed at him as she moved away. He could feel his tongue catching against his teeth and as he opened his mouth it began to roll out, getting progressively longer, almost skimming the floor as he attempted to scream. A Malfoy being embarrassed wasn’t something he was used to, and in moment’s he was lying sprawled on the floor, completely unconscious from shock.