“Of all the seven deadly sins, only Envy is no fun at all” – Joseph Epstein

---

Ginny is –green.

Well, it’s not quite that simple. You see, the truth of the matter is that Ginny is actually –well, she’s green.

No, on second thought perhaps there is no way out of this.

Ginny is green in more senses than one and she is cold and Draco Malfoy is laughing at her and Astoria Greengrass is entirely too smug.

Green – because she is covered in paint, you see, and the paint just so happens to be this vividly awful sort of chartreuse, which by the way is a hideously unflattering colour for anyone, let alone a redhead. Let alone a Weasley, who are really a whole new category of redheads.

Her flush must look strange, under the bright paint.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, shaking her hands in one sharp movement that sends paint splattering off her fingers in ten bright arcing points.

Draco Malfoy leans over the banister a little farther and chokes slightly as Ginny tries to stand only to slip in the far-too-gooey paint on the ground. He actually looks rather pained trying to hold his laughter back, and Ginny hopes he hurts himself.

His eyes are bright and mirthful, though, and Astoria’s hand is curled comfortably into the crook of his arm.

Finally (finally) Ginny gets her hands on her wand and Scourgifys to the best of her abilities until the worst of it is gone. She’ll have to wash extra-carefully tonight to get the smaller bits off, and maybe she’ll steal into Hermione’s Prefect bathroom. It’s way too good for any one person, anyway.

Astoria is a very beautiful girl, and she looks like a fairytale princess. The line of her neck is smooth and pale, unmarred by any (freckles) imperfections. Also, her dress is actually tasteful, and yet still revealing enough that when she leans over the banister to call down to Ginny, both Ginny and Draco get a very generous view of her very generous chest.

She sounds happy, which Ginny really ought to hate the bitch for, seeing as she’s suffering down here. But it’s not Draco’s mocking sort of happy, and the bitch is actually rather nice once you get past the fact that she gets everything she ever bloody wants – oh, and that she’s ridiculously beautiful and younger than Ginny anyway and why is she the one up there on the banister with her hand curled into the crook of Draco Malfoy’s arm?

Ginny blames feeling green on the paint, and it’s interesting that she could conceivably say ‘I’m glad that someone dumped a bucket of unflattering green paint all over me in front of Draco Malfoy’ and actually sort of mean it.

The thing was, there was a time when Astoria wasn’t pretty yet, but she was small and adorable and completely ignored by her big sister (who, by the way, was one of Pansy’s lot and had absolutely no redeeming qualities). Ginny had never been as hung up on the House rivalry as her brothers and she had a bit of a thing about saving first-years (still does). So that’s her friend up there, her stupid cow of a friend who doesn’t look nearly as much like a cow as she by all rights should.

Draco opens his mouth to say something, but Astoria’s not a bad friend so she tightens her hand around his arm in warning, and he pauses.

He doesn’t do that for just anybody – there’s no way he’d do it for a Weasley. Draco Malfoy won’t pause for someone unless they’re special. Like if they’re a breathtakingly beautiful girl with long dark curly hair and wide eyes and pale skin and an affectionate disposition and a very generous chest.

Ginny thinks she will never speak to her friend ever again, and that makes sense.

“Well, Weasley,” Draco says, and then follows up with something that no doubt is witty and insults her heritage. Ginny is a bit too busy shoving herself to her feet stiffly and trying not to shiver in the cold wind to listen.

Honestly, she is going to have to talk to the twins (at great length) about limits. Especially when she’s their only family member who will knowingly help them test products.

Astoria’s a bunch of lovely things to be sure, but she’s also a bit docile and she wouldn’t interrupt Malfoy if her life depended on it, so he goes on and on in that sneering voice of his.

She’ll bore him, a nasty little voice in Ginny’s head whispers, and she doesn’t quite shush it as fast as she really should do: and then what good is her stupid hair going to do her?

Ginny has no compunctions about interrupting anyone, least of all gits. Malfoy, as the Crown Prince of Gits (Percy is King, at least until he actually answers one of her owls) is a fair target, and so she interrupts him right in the middle of “bloody kyphorrhinos, the lot of you” (which makes her wish she had been listening, because what do bumpy noses have to do with anything?).

“Shut up Malfoy,” Ginny says on reflex, then addresses Astoria through teeth that are only gritted just a bit, honest. “You forgot your money-bag at the Three Broomsticks. I came to return it.”

Her nose isn’t bumpy. Maybe Ron’s is, a little. Or Charlie’s. But hers certainly isn’t, and she doesn’t need to touch it to make sure because that would be silly.

Astoria’s nose is actually a little bumpy. Not like it’s been broken, but it has a natural bump that Ginny can notice from a floor below her out in the cold. Not enough to counteract her hair of course, but enough to make Ginny think ha, and feel vaguely victorious.

“Oh,” Astoria smiles, “You’re a great friend, thanks Ginny.”

Ginny would feel guilty for mentally stabbing her in the back if Draco hadn’t snorted like that. Maybe.

In any case, she just wants to escape, and so she tosses the bag up in the air. It almost hits Astoria in the face, but Draco stops it with a quick Wingardium Leviosa, for which Ginny is genuinely glad.

She doesn’t want to cause Astoria unending pain. No way.

“Bye then,” Ginny says, as she turns and darts away, left foot sinking into a clump of snow and getting all wet and cold and generally icky. “Have fun on your date.”

Astoria’s face lights up at the last word, and Draco’s jaw clenches. Then he pauses, as if reevaluating his companion, and smirks lasciviously.

The prat.

---

It’s only much later, after the twins have given her many free things in apology and she’s trudged back up to the castle to use some of them on Ron, that Ginny feels a bit better. She’s still had an awful day though, and she doesn’t think she will be able to talk to Astoria for a while without wanting to test some products out on her as well.

Or maybe just become her, because for all her troubles in those early days, everyone certainly acknowledges her now and she has a very simple, uncomplicated life. Ginny sort of wants that, if only for a day or two. Just long enough that she can smile at professors and actually look innocent, or eat whatever she wants without worrying about her figure, or get dates with boys two years older than her when most girls even just one year down are completely overlooked.

And then she could go out with them in nice warm flattering clothes that are not in any way threadbare, and she could stand on balconies with a hand tucked into the crook of their arm and watch other girls make fools of themselves in the snow. And she could smile at them, and look them right in the eyes, and no one would see anything wrong with that, least of all the older boy in question.

So Ginny is afraid that she’ll have to end the day with a sigh and a sad feeling, again. And she would if it weren’t for the accidental discovery that apparently paint made by the twins (of which there is still some in her hair) glows in the dark.

She’s got them to thank for the quick laugh, but even so as she crawls into bed Ginny can’t help but rub her (un-bumpy) nose and wish that her hair was a little longer and a little blacker, and that her freckles were just a little completely gone.

“The independent girl is a person before whose wrath only the most rash dare stand, and, they, it must be confessed, with much fear and trembling” – Lou Henry Hoover

---

Draco Malfoy is – sort of, not really, and it certainly wouldn’t appear that way to others, because there’s no reason for it to, because he’s not actually scared.

He’s no Gryffindor, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plenty brave. He’s just not stupid about it; he can recognize when it’s fine to keep on worsening Longbottom’s lack of self-esteem, but he also knows when it’s better to tell Filch about Potter rather than actually sneaking out to engage in an idiotic duel.

Which is not to say he’d pull anything like the latter ever again. He’s moved far beyond such childish stunts.

In any case: at this particular point in time, despite being perfectly well equipped in the courage department, Draco is just slightly (and very logically)… frightened.

By a girl.

Of course, she’s not any normal girl, Draco’s known that for years. She’s a special girl, and as such far more frightening than any twelve normal girls together. For one thing, she’s feisty on any normal occasion. In the past Draco’s admired this, along with her zest and biting tongue. He’s even been attracted to the way that she has no trouble standing up to him or anyone else who bothers her.

He’s even, he realizes with horror, witnessed an instance of her fury and thought it sexy.

Of course, that was when she was angry with her brother, not him. But still, Draco had never thought that merely switching roles would change the situation so dramatically; enough to actually make him fear for his life.

He tries to remember that he’s a year older, and could definitely outmatch her in any fight, magical or physical. Probably.

In the future, Draco will have to remember to stay away during this time of month. And whenever she’s got that expression on her face. And to never greet her with a cheeky smirk and a wink, just in case.

…Actually, he’s really not sure what he did wrong. Draco had thought he was flirting. And, yes, perhaps Ginny Weasley is the one girl in the castle who might not find this an appealing thought (something Draco is privately determined to remedy), but this reaction is a bit out of line. A bit off-putting, too. She’ll regret this when Draco never flirts with her again (because he’s so likely to follow through on that).

“Well?” she demands, as he notices with dismay that his back is literally at a wall. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Draco has his pride. He is a strong man who values his principles above all else. Staying true to them now will require great finesse and caution, as currently two are in an all-out war: never lose to a Weasley and do whatever it takes to stay alive.

“I have several things to say for myself,” Draco says accordingly, after a moment’s pause, “namely that I do not have to answer to you, Weaselette. None of what I do is your business; now quit loitering before I dock House points.”

Because really, mocking Weasleys is far more important than survival, especially since when his father found out, as he always did, he would just end up killing Draco anyway.

Draco regrets his choice moments later when Ginny slams forward until her nose is practically smushing his own, fury written in every line of her body.

It’s rather funny, actually, if one thought about it detachedly: here Draco is, slammed against the wall by a very pretty girl, and his reaction is far from pleased. Her body moves forward with her head, feet crowding next to his – Draco jams his heels hard into the wall and presses every point of his spine back into it, too. Her nose is as previously stated, right up in the space of his own, which also means that her mouth is directly beneath both noses, along with his own. He can feel her hot, angry breath on his lips – he holds his breath. Her intense eyes are right in front of his own, glaring with all the heat of the sun – he doesn’t smile but instead stares back, trying not to blink and show weakness so much that his vision blurs and her eyes merge into one large frightening orb in front of him.

In short, Draco does not enjoy this even though he by all means should. Ginny does not appear to enjoy this either, by the way she’s shouting at him: “You bastard Draco, how dare you talk to me about your life being none of my business when you’re always going out of your way to insult me and butt your nose into my life – and my nose is NOT BUMPY, by the way!”

She pauses, and Draco opens his mouth – but the break was just for a breath, and she runs right over his unformed words, “And while we’re talking about it” – they aren’t talking so far as Draco knows, much less about bumpy noses or whatever the mental leap Ginny made from there might turn out to be, but he doesn’t really have a chance to protest – “how dare you try to date Astoria? She’s my friend, and she’s a whole two years younger than you! Leave her alone! And me, too! Leave me alone! Do you understand, Malfoy? I want you to leave me alone and never talk to me again, especially not about Astoria and whatever you’re doing, which you shouldn’t, by the way!”

With one last, fervent huff, Ginny whirls on her feet – they are in such close proximity that her hair slams into Draco’s face and also his open mouth and he is fairly certain he chokes but she does not seem to notice or care about his fate – and storms away. Draco is left behind, pressed up against the wall in utter confusion, and it is only when she is far away and turning the corner that he recovers enough to shout, “Twenty points from Gryffindor for harassing a Prefect, Weasley!”

He still feels like he came out worse.

Not lost, because Malfoys don’t lose to Weasleys, but… Ginny was the one who vented her emotions and walked away with her head held high. Draco just sort of stood there and let her yell at him.

Next time he will respond –no, next time he will anticipate her and either make a tactical retreat or strike the first debilitating blow. Either way, he will engineer it so that he is clearly the victor, as he should be.

Yes. That sounds good.

However, as Draco peels himself off the wall and tries to remember his original destination, he can’t really feel satisfied. It takes him a few moments to pinpoint the feeling and when he does, a very un-winner-like bewilderment settles over him once more.

What exactly did he do to set her off in the first place?

---

It is one of Draco’s personal rules to always go to bed in a good mood – i.e., smug in some way or another. It’s normally no problem for him to dig something up that makes him smirk disgustingly as he drifts away – in the past anything from his popularity and good grades to recalling the day’s firstie-torturing to winning a Quidditch game to even just reminding himself that he was rich had all sufficed.

Even if he didn’t do anything particularly interesting or smirk-worthy, Draco has a knack for putting himself on a pedestal. It is a skill encouraged from birth in the Malfoy Manor, and Draco has completely mastered it.

And this is why it comes as such a surprise to Draco that today, none of his failsafes seem to work. Remembering how he secretly Accioed McMillan’s ‘lucky’ quill in the two seconds before an important test in Charms and snickered at his bewildered and crestfallen face for the rest of the period does not work. Draco works through all the applicable events of his day, and is shocked when even thinking of Potter receiving another failing grade in Potions as Snape praised him in front of class doesn’t do a thing to boost his spirits.

Eventually, it all comes down to this – Draco is fairly certain despite whatever he says that today he was both afraid of and lost to a Weasley. The fact that is the female one only makes this slightly more acceptable, and until this is fixed he will not be able to sleep.

It takes him twenty minutes, several exclamations of confusion, and one rant about what was so wrong with winking in greeting anyway, before one thing stood out to Draco. Greengrass – Astoria that is, the young pretty one he went to Hogsmeade with over the weekend. He remembers it mostly as the day he saw the Weaselette doused head-to-foot in obnoxious green paint (classic), but the half-date with the younger student is hovering around in his memory as well.

More importantly, it is certainly on Ginny Weasley’s mind. Enough so that she is going out of her way to scream at Draco about the other girl in a fit of – perhaps? – jealousy.

Draco thinks on this for two seconds, then falls asleep, smirking broadly.

This should be fun.

“Pride and dignity would belong to women if only men would leave them alone” – Egyptian Proverb

---

Ginny Weasley is a proud girl, when you get right down to it. She believes in herself and doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Except Draco Malfoy, for some reason. And she does not approve of that, but she’s not sure how to fix it, exactly.

You see, in the end, Ginny can’t do it. She lasts all of fifteen minutes before Astoria gives her this adorably crestfallen look and says, “Are you mad at me, Ginny? Did I do something wrong?”

Really, damn her. Because in the end Ginny knows it’s not Astoria’s fault. The girl has a bit of a crush on Malfoy, and it’s not like Ginny ever set a claim or anything. Astoria was just excited to have the older boy’s attention at all, but it’s not as though it’s some big love affair. And most endearing of all, she’s actually refrained from talking about her date despite this, because she knows Ginny and Malfoy don’t get along.

If Ginny didn’t already know that half the time Astoria is consciously using her looks and innocent reputation to manipulate people, she’d call her a saint.

Actually, all things considered, everyone should count themselves lucky that Astoria doesn’t want much – she’s too nice to really manipulate people beyond cutting her some slack (at least that she’s aware of; it never occurs to the girl that the number of Valentines she gets is anything but normal). If she ever did try, she could easily replace Pansy as Queen Bee. Well, perhaps in another year, when she’s fifteen and a bit more mature.

For now she’s too nice, and Ginny can’t help but forgive her. That doesn’t mean that she’s no longer angry, mind you – she most definitely is. But it’s simple enough to relocate most (if not quite all) the animosity to aim directly at Malfoy. When you get right down to it, he is the cause, after all.

Which is why she’s having a problem now.

Draco Malfoy, after their little altercation several days ago, has been almost constantly shooting Ginny glances. This would not bother her most of the time; in fact it would normally make her feel rather flattered. But as it is, these are not appreciative glances so much as they are calculatingly smug, and a very uneasy feeling has begun to rise in her gut.

Professor Trelawney forecasts that she will experience heartbreak today. She also says that Ginny is going to be trampled by a centaur stampede at the tender age of twenty-two, but that’s slightly less relevant at the moment. Especially as Draco Malfoy is walking right at her in the otherwise empty corridor, smirking furiously, and she is on her way to meet Astoria right now. She can see suddenly that Draco doesn’t plan to let her get away and will likely even follow her, and there’s suddenly no avoiding it (as she has managed to do so far with little effort, considering that together they span three different years and schedules).

Something tells Ginny that Draco has planned this.

Especially when he grins and waves a hand at her. “Why hello there, little Weasley. How are you faring lately? Gaining Gryffindor any points?”

Ginny takes a deep breath, raises her head high, and keeps walking. Draco swivels around as she passes him, and continues to walk right next to her, smiling down at her in what actually takes her by surprise. Because the smirk is gone, and he looks genuinely glad to see her.

Ginny is not stupid. She knows that he is up to something. But at the same time, she likes this boy quite a bit, and that has been known to interfere with anyone’s reasoning faculties. Right now her attraction messes with her in the form of slowing her steps slightly, and not quite looking entirely away from her Malfoy-shaped shadow.

But even so, she resolves, nothing he says or does will get to her. She will just keep on walking.

“I just wanted to apologize, Weasley, for the other day.”

Okay, screw walking. She spins on him. “What?”

Draco, the shameless twit, is completely – well, shameless. “I’m saying sorry. For making you angry.”

“Okay, who put bugs in your pumpkin juice this morning? Since when do you ever apologize to me?” Or anyone for that matter, Ginny thought but didn’t say.

Draco’s lips twitch, and Ginny hates him because that half-genuine-half-mocking smile is completely too attractive. “Well, I noticed how down you were looking lately. It only makes sense. I know how much my opinion means to you, and obviously you were upset.”

Disaster suddenly looms in Ginny’s stomach but it’s too late already, and his smirk explodes as he leans in slightly and enunciates clearly: “It won’t do you any good to be jealous, Ginny.”

Red spreads –no, erupts over Ginny, first coloring her cheeks, then her ears and her neck and she must look like a gigantic tomato saying spot on, Draco!

“I was not jealous of Astoria,” she grits out, and she’s just done something wrong because Draco’s eyes flash with triumph.

“Who ever mentioned Astoria?” he says, and Ginny is – lost.

Several moments of silence follow, and Ginny gets the feeling that he is looming over her even though neither of them is in actuality moving. Then she decides to protect her dignity and do absolutely the worst thing she could have then done: she stutters. “I-I didn’t… I’m not, I mean y-you said…”

If Draco’s mouth gets any wider, it will cut his head in half. “It’s alright, little Weasley,” he says consolingly, “you’re not the first to fall victim to my charms. But please, don’t let it destroy your friendship.”

“I- B-but – ”

Draco makes everything worse by leaning in closer and placing a finger over her lips. He takes a quick step closer and twirls a strand of her hair in his fingers, leans his head close and whispers seductively in her ear: “I wouldn’t like to see my girlfriend looking so upset any longer.”

Ginny’s eyes go wide and yes, she knows something isn’t right here but again the attraction takes over and she gasps a little against his finger. “You – you mean you –”

Draco leans even closer, so that he is whispering in her ear, and she can feel his warm breath puffing as he draws out his words. “That’s right. I’m asking… Astoria to be my girlfriend.”

Ginny goes cold.

Draco, laughing, steps back. “I’m fairly certain she’ll accept – in fact I’m on my way to see her right now. But why do you look so shocked, Weasley? Oh!” he gasps in amusement. “Surely you didn’t think it was you?”

Ginny… –stays silent. She stonily stares forward, and after a moment Draco shrugs. “Well, I’ll be on my way, then,” he says, and continues to walk in the direction she had been headed. After a few moments he turns a corner, but it is still a while before Ginny can breathe.

Ginny Weasley is at heart a proud girl. But Draco Malfoy can easily destroy that, and she wants to make sure it never happens again.

“Ambition is but avarice on stilts, and masked” – Walter Savage Landor

---

Draco wants.

It’s in his nature, and there is no limit. He wants, acquires, and wants again. Either something new, as he’s gotten bored of whatever it is he currently has, or simply more of what he’s already got, almost to the point of ridiculousness. But the truly ridiculous thing is just how often he gets what he wants – which is to say, almost always. Perhaps it’s due to being the only child of a pair of very rich people who only encourage him to think loftily of himself, but Draco is used to getting what he wants when he wants it.

In this case: he wants revenge. He didn’t enjoy that feeling of losing, however brief it was, and the realization that Ginny is in fact jealous is satisfying on several levels.

When Draco first discovered it, he really just wanted a bit of revenge, and perhaps to confirm her feelings. He was almost entirely positive that Ginny Weasley was jealous, but there was still that lingering doubt.

That doubt is no more now. And Draco is happy, because he’s finally got the Weasley – both in the sense that she has finally seemed to fall for him, and also in that he has completely and undeniably one-upped her. There is no question about who was the victor in their latest encounter.

And yet… Draco still isn’t satisfied. He knows he’s done well enough that he should be, but that’s never stopped him before. He could easily grow addicted to that look on Ginny’s face as he whispered in her ear about Astoria. That crushing defeat, right there, and proof that she wanted him at the same time. It was, for lack of a better word, delicious.

And Draco, for lack of a better metaphor, is starving.

Of course, he does still intend to return to the Weasley eventually. Astoria is pleasant enough he supposes, and she’s certainly beautiful. But she was also rather boring on that one date, and Ginny (much as he might deny it) is beautiful too, without the drawbacks. And of course she carries with her the added bonus of severely angering Potter & Co., though to be honest that’s never the first thing on Draco’s mind when he sees her. Or even in the top ten, really.

But it’s not as though dating Astoria is going to be some horrible chore after all, even if he isn’t particularly attracted to her. And this will give him more opportunities to be around Ginny. He can take the time to pave the way for their impending relationship; well, when he isn’t amusing himself by torturing her into a fit of jealous humiliation.

There’s a niggling sort of feeling in the back of Draco’s head that insists this is a very bad idea, but that’s nonsense. It will be hilarious and beneficial at once, and Weasley deserves the punishment anyway. Besides, it’s not like there’s any turning back now. If he did back out now, Ginny would assume that Astoria had turned him down and would only mock him for it.

The little protest in his head is quashed instantly under Draco’s determination to never let that happen. He proceeds to ask Astoria to be his girlfriend and takes her joyous acceptance in stride (actually, her reaction was rather calmer than Draco would have preferred, but he does not dwell on this). Whenever he sees Ginny for the next few days, she turns bright red and leaves quickly, and Draco is satisfied.

It is only now, a week later, that he realizes what he has done.

Ginny Weasley is in the same room as he is and is not looking at him. Astoria is, in little quick glances, and she is smiling and she has her arm wrapped around his (she seems oddly fond of doing that; it’s a bit weird actually) as she holds his hand. She is talking to Ginny, and Ginny is talking back. And yes, when Draco narrows his eyes at her and waits long enough, a blush tints her cheeks a soft pink, but it’s in no way comparable to that lovely carmine shade of just a few days ago.

Only then does Draco realize: he really didn’t think this through. Of course the effect would begin to wear off in time – and now, it suddenly occurs to him, the Weasel is actually talking to Astoria. Like nothing is wrong. There is no glaring at all. No catfight.

Ginny should be cursing her former friend and unable to talk with her due to her rampant jealousy. Why is she laughing with Draco’s girlfriend? Draco’s girlfriend!

He excuses himself without a word (actually, most people would probably describe the action as Draco simply ditching the two girls) and wanders aimlessly down a hallway, thinking about it. It’s all clear now; he really should have thought this through earlier. The Weasley knows he knows that she likes him. And she also knows that he knows that she knows that he knows she likes him. Add this up with her friendly attitude towards Astoria and pretense that Draco doesn’t exist, and it’s clear: she’s blaming him.

That’s… there’s not actually anything wrong with this, in and of itself. After all, it is his fault; he actually is the one to blame. Yet... Draco isn’t pleased with this result. And on second thought, dating Astoria isn’t something he’s pleased with either, not if it doesn’t make Ginny jealous.

He should just break up with her. Right now. And then go snog the Weasley somewhere; that’d show her. And then he would win, as he should, and he’d also get to snog the Weasley. She’s had that coming for a while, and she certainly wouldn’t be expecting it either.

No, this will be good. Draco can still dominate the playing field completely. He can picture it quite easily: he’ll have her cornered, her back up against a wall, and she will be wide-eyed.

“B-but – Astoria…” she’ll say, and Draco will smirk and shrug.

“I got bored.” He will lean close, and her face will flush red. “But you won’t bore me, will you, Weasley?”

He won’t let her answer. He will kiss her first, and after that he not only won’t let her have the time to respond, she won’t even be able to think of anything to say.

“Draco…” That will be the only word out of her lips! And Draco will be the uncontested victor, because he knows what he wants and he gets what he wants.

“Draco!” Draco breaks free from his… planning, and looks up to find himself in front of the Great Hall. Students are already gathering for dinner, which should begin shortly, and Astoria is calling his name.

Well, then. This is convenient. He doesn’t even have to search her out, and he will have an audience too, which is always nice. Draco performs well to a crowd. “Ah, good timing Astoria,” he says, “I wanted to tell you something–”

“May I go first?” she asks sweetly, and not even Draco is upset that she just interrupted him. She’s just too nice. And innocent. And sweet.

Come to think of it, how did she ever become a Slytherin in the first place?

“Sure,” Draco shrugs. He might as well allow her one last gush before he breaks her heart, after all.

“Thank you, Draco,” Astoria smiles, and there are people watching their exchange. Of course there are; Draco is Draco, and Astoria has quite a few fans in the male population already. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m breaking up with you.”

“That’s nice, I – ” Draco stops. Suddenly. “What?”

Astoria shrugs gently, smiling softly. There is a distinct click! as that Creevey boy undoubtedly snaps a picture (probably for his ‘private collection’, the little wanker). “I’m sorry. You’re a great guy. I just got… bored.”

She smiles. Draco – well. He just. Stands there.

Whispers suddenly start to spread; Draco can hear them, like animals rustling in the brush. He feels a flush work its way up his cheeks. Astoria simply walks past him, through the opening doors of the Great Hall. Eyes following her haplessly, Draco catches sight of a long flash of red; when his eyes automatically focus on it, he sees Astoria walk up to Ginny Weasley, say something, and then the two laugh.

She just dumped him. She did. Dumped him. Here. Right here in front of everybody.

And now she is laughing. With Ginny Weasley.

...He questioned her being in Slytherin why, exactly?

“’To hell with that,” he said, “shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.’” – Ray Bradbury

---

Ginny is… well, she’s entirely sorry that she was ever angry at Astoria. She’s also a little bit horrified by the other girl’s cunning, but since it was aimed at He-Who-Was-A-Prat, it has become less of an issue.

Astoria, it seems, has latent Slytherin qualities not even Ginny knew of. In other words, her jealous rivalry with her older sister Daphne (who has been one of Pansy’s troupe since a young age and apparently thinks this makes her popular and well-loved) has had a bit of a crush on a certain classmate, which has not been pursued due to the very public knowledge that Pansy already has her eyes on him. She also has a tendency to rail on her younger sister for being friends with a Gryffindor.

“The conclusion,” Astoria says altogether too calmly, “was simple. It was a way to get back at her, and ever since that one time we went out to Hogsmeade, I hoped I could go out with him again.” She smirks slightly and it is almost frightening. “Daphne saw us together and she was furious.”

“But didn’t you like him at all?” Ginny asks, not comprehending the idea of dating someone purely to infuriate another person – well, not when it is her friend doing it, at least.

“Sure,” Astoria says with a small shrug, “he wasn’t bad company. And you know he’s handsome.”

“E-er, yeah.” Ginny blushes and looks away, but Astoria doesn’t notice as she continues the story. Despite already knowing it from this point onward, Ginny still wants to hear it again, if only to bask in the victory.

“Well, everything was going wonderfully at first – we were officially dating, and you should have seen Daphne. And best of all, she couldn’t even say anything, because Pansy would get angry at her – and she was already in enough trouble for letting her little sister date Pansy’s property, you know.” If Astoria wasn’t quite so delicate, she’d look demonic, Ginny muses.

“Go on.”

“But then I started to notice how he was acting – you know, smirking at you all the time, and you blushing. So then I had to go talk to you, and once you told me you liked him and he was just trying to embarrass you –”

“I told you no such thing!” Ginny snaps. “I had no idea you had any ulterior motives in dating Draco – I would never have told you I liked your boyfriend!”

Astoria sighs. “Yes, well, I figured it out on my own then, didn’t I? In any case, then I told you my real reasons and you know the rest.”

Ginny smirks. “Yes, I really do. Doing it outside the Great Hall, Astoria – that was pure genius.”

“Nothing less for my best friend,” Astoria says with a smile that is really very touching.

Ginny supposes that while it is generally frowned-upon for a girl to date someone in order to make someone else jealous, exceptions can be made when that person is himself a prat who is dating the girl to make someone else jealous. Especially if the girl then dumps him very publicly for the sake of her friend who he was attempting to make jealous, severely wounding his pride in front of half the school.

“I don’t think he’s ever been dumped before,” Ginny muses, glancing at the sheet in her hands. On the paper is a slowly replaying shot of the moment Draco was dumped. First, he is looking confused, but as Astoria’s mouth moves silently you can clearly see the moment she says ‘bored’. Draco’s face freezes in mortification, and while you can’t see it paling in the black-and-white photo, everyone knows that it did.

Ginny supposes she’s got a bit of a Slytherin in herself. She had tracked Colin down later that day and commissioned a hundred of these darlings, which she’d then stealthily distributed about the school. Almost everyone has seen them by now.

“No,” Astoria says in an interested tone that has Ginny looking up in surprise. “I don’t suppose he has. Just look at him” – she nods across the Great Hall to the table she should technically be sitting at right now – “he’s not taking it very well, is he?”

Draco… really is not. He is sitting, rather more slumped than usual (which, granted, only means that his posture is leaning forward at an 80-degree angle rather than a 90-degree rigid one) and he is poking disconsolately at his pudding. It looks as though Crabbe and Goyle are attempting to comfort him the only way they know how, if the small wall of food slowly forming around him is any indication.

That’s rather sweet actually, if obviously misguided. But Draco doesn’t seem to care. He sighs heavily – Ginny can practically hear it from here – and rises to leave the room. In order to do so he has to pass the Gryffindor table and consequently Ginny and Astoria. She grins widely, and he stiffens momentarily, his step jolting slightly. But he carries on his way without a word, until Ginny ‘accidentally’ drops her photo. It slides down through the air to land (face-up, thank Merlin) just in front of his feet, and he stops completely.

It plays out its little scene in front of him twice before he stoops to pick it up. Everyone is watching with interest now, and mild snickers are making their way through the amassed students, but Draco acts as if no one is there. He just stares at the paper for several moments longer before slowly turning to Ginny and locking eyes with her.

At first, her gaze is triumphant and challenging. Then, as he continues to stare without saying or doing anything, she begins to grow uneasy. Still, he keeps her waiting, and it is only when she is about to say something herself just to break the heavy silence that he finally moves.

He hands her the photo. “Here,” he says, voice flat and expressionless, “You dropped this.”

Then he turns and leaves the hall. Ginny finds herself waiting desperately for the anger, for him to turn and glare at her, to say something vengeful, or even to pretend that he isn’t bothered by this at all – but nothing. He does nothing at all, but leave in silence, and soon the noise level is back to normal as the door shuts behind him.

Ginny stares after him. This – this feels unfinished, not right, it’s –

“Anticlimactic, wasn’t that?” Astoria quietly observes. “I wonder what he’s up to.”

Ginny does too. That wasn’t satisfying at all, and not even the sight of Crabbe and Goyle following Draco from the room with their arms full of muffins can restore her previous spirits.

---

The worst part is that it doesn’t get any better. Ginny waits. She watches. For three solid days she endures, but although Draco recovers enough to snap at Crabbe and Goyle every time they try to direct food his way, he still makes no move of revenge. He doesn’t even seem to care.

She corners him in the corridor once, bumps right into him, and what does he do?

Nothing. That’s what he does. Nothing at all. He doesn’t even sneer at her, or insult her, or make that little scoffing noise in the back of his throat that he does. He just keeps on walking.

And it’s not as though he’s just ignoring her to annoy her. He is always this sluggish and unresponsive lately, and it is only once – when Ginny and Astoria are standing together in an alcove, comparing Potions grades and he passes by and sees them with their heads bent together – that he shows any reaction to anything. He stiffens then, just like he did in the Hall, and for half a second Ginny can see the rage and humiliation warring on his face, right along with the desire to march right up to her and attack her.

But he still does nothing.

It’s frankly more than Ginny can handle. Astoria is no longer concerned with Draco (Daphne is now leaving her mostly alone, at least for the time being, so their short courtship has served her purposes well enough) but when Ginny brings his behavior up, she says not to worry about it.

“It’s not like it concerns you anymore, right?” she says. “You’re done with him now. If he’s not attacking you back, that’s a good thing.”

Even Ginny knows better than that, even she suspects Draco of having some trick up his sleeve, but Astoria is only fourteen, cunning or not.

However the naïve advice isn’t all that bad and Ginny knows she ought to take it. She really ought to just forget Draco and move on already. He is a jerk, she has put him in his place, and all ought to be well.

It would be. If she didn’t still like the twat.

Oh, Ginny has no illusions regarding his character. And she’s fully aware that he is probably just waiting to get his revenge and this whole dejected moping thing is nothing but an act, but –

It’s not right, seeing Draco without the snark, and she wants it back. Now that the desperate need for revenge has been served, Ginny is more forgiving than he probably deserves, and she just wants the whole thing to be over.

In other words, she wants to get together with Draco already, so that she will stop gazing at him and feeling perturbed when he doesn’t smirk mockingly back. It’s too horrifying to admit that she misses being called ‘little Weasley’ or ‘Weaselette’ in those sultry, mocking tones. It’s just wrong to miss him insulting her intelligence, wealth, or beauty whenever she sees him.

But she does, and the only way Ginny sees to fix that is to verbally harass him for a bit, then kiss some sense into him. …Well, okay, there’s probably several other ways to do it, but Ginny likes this one best.

Draco is the kind of person that should never be so quiet, and Ginny has graciously decided to fix that. It is with this in mind that she leaves the Gryffindor common room this lovely Saturday afternoon, and proceeds to wander in the general direction of the library to look for him.

Ginny was hoping to embrace him at some point today, yes. She is willing to admit that (if not aloud, at least not until Draco is back to normal and firmly her boyfriend). However, she completely denies purposely falling on him in an attempt to make said embracing occur. It might work, yes, but it’s really just not her style. Too eager, too contrived, too... the position she finds herself in now.

Draco looks down at her, blinks, and for half a moment Ginny almost sees something there. She thinks. Possibly. It could be a trick of the light.

“Oh,” she says, thrown off guard. “Hi.”

“In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost precision” – Italo Calvino

---

Draco is damn clever.

Really, he ought to have been in Ravenclaw, except for his cunning, self-serving, ambitious approach towards life in general. And the fact that Ravenclaws are all school-obsessed geeks who couldn’t get a date if their wand depended on it. Sort of like Granger actually, except she’s just an unusual Gryffindor.

Honestly, they’re all losers, especially Hufflepuffs (who aren’t really even worth mentioning most of the time). That isn’t the point.

The point is, Draco’s cleverness and other Slytherin attributes are all extremely helpful to him in situations such as these – that is, when he somehow finds himself, against all odds, beaten by a pair of little (or at least, littler than he is) girls, and humiliated in front of the entire school.

Needless to say, Draco did not eat dinner that day.

And while it should also be needless to say that Draco immediately came up with a complicated but foolproof plan for revenge – it isn’t. Because he sort of didn’t do that. No, that first night, he has to admit that he finally succumbed to teenage angst and sulked.

In privacy. No one knew. But it was still humiliating, and had Draco not been too busy sulking, he would have put quite a few people in their place the next morning.

But just because he sulked for a brief time does not mean Draco was defeated. How could he be? He is first and foremost a Malfoy, and Malfoys never lose (especially to Weasleys).

Draco forgot that for one night, perhaps. But he remembers it clearly enough the next morning when Ginny Weasley dares to try to goad him into another fight. In that moment, staring down at the living image of his defeat, Draco’s cleverness and determination come to his rescue.

It happens a bit like this: oh, he thinks, pictures. How lovely. I expect I’m supposed to say something now? I really don’t see that it’s worth it.

Then, as he turns to look at the face of the girl who somehow beat him, Draco’s lethargy is hit by his brilliance, and from that emerges a rather mature conclusion: If he just stays quiet for a little longer, he can turn this into a game of endurance. Ginny is clearly not done with him (which is rather heartening actually) if she is still trying to provoke him. In fact, she’s technically kicking him when he’s down, which clearly speaks of a lingering romantic attachment. And while Draco admires her spirit, he also is aware of her character faults. Among these is patience.

Rather, a conspicuous lack of patience.

In the short moments that he stands staring at his gleeful tormentor, Draco’s (next-to-) top-of-the-class mind runs speedily through this, then churns out the following: then it’s simple. I’ll just ignore the Weasley until she can’t stay away. And then – then I will end it all. She will think that she is being forgiving and letting me off easily, when in reality I will be the one playing her.

A true Slytherin doesn’t need to advertise himself to the world. It is highly satisfying to do so, yes, but not strictly necessary. And in this situation, not revealing his plan will win Draco the frustrating girl with the added bonus of being able to feel smugger than she whenever she gloats about being magnanimous and forgiving the sulking boy. The cost is minor – a few days of slouching, perhaps. And his revenge on that gormless Creevey will have to wait for a bit. It’s certainly not much to pay for what he will get in return.

Draco is superbly clever, you see, so he comes up with this all in one instant as he stares at Ginny, then puts it in action the next. He hands it over, resists the strong urge to say something biting, and then –just walks away.

He can already tell it’s killing her, and it takes more effort than expected not to smirk.

Honestly. As if Draco Malfoy would ever mope about for three days without an ulterior motive. People really should know better.

---

To be honest, despite knowing that this method would not only allow him to win in several ways and yet not perpetuate the petty feud between him and the little Weasel (see, that’s that mature bit, there) Draco has been tempted more than once to just forget his plan, specifically when he has spied the two conspirators against him conspiring again, or noticed Ginny being particularly pleased with herself.

Still, once committed to this course it would only be foolish to break from it, so Draco waits.

In the end, it only takes three and a half days; Draco expected a bit longer. He also didn’t expect Ginny to come barreling down the hall at him and to leap into his arms when it happened, which is not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it (which itself is not to say that he makes any inappropriate feels or grabs, tempting as the thought may be; it would instantly lose him any advantage the past three days have gained him).

To be fair, it seems like Ginny didn’t expect to fall on him either, if her expression is anything to go by. Her startled exhalation of a greeting is the confirmation Draco doesn’t really need: “Oh,” she says suddenly. “Hi.”

It is perhaps impossible to put into words just how much Draco wants to smirk and say, “Miss me, Weasley?”

But these things require precision, and if Draco gorges himself on Ginny’s delectable appetizers now, he will never get to taste the main course, let alone dessert. And that just won’t do. Draco intends to acquire as much of her as he can, and if it requires some restraint in the short term, so be it.

This being so, he lets go of her and tilts his head down slightly. Now to strike just the right balance of insolent and despondent… “Watch where you’re walking,” he mutters, and moves to keep on walking –

–And a hand on his arm stops him. Draco’s lips twitch, a minuscule motion. Weasleys, even the female ones, are really just too easy.

“Wait!” she blurts. Draco sighs, calculating exactly the amount of breath exiting his lips and at what velocity – too much or too fast and it will sound forced, aggravated. Too slow and it will just frustrate her. This really must be precise, every bit of this exchange.

Just enough, and he sounds weary and perhaps a teeny bit irritated. “What is it, Weasley?” Draco turns around to – not snap. Ask.

Now that she has him, she looks uncertain, biting her lip (Draco’s eyes flicker to follow the motion of their own accord, but that’s alright; if she believes him madly attracted to her as well, it will only increase her misdirected pity). For a few moments, they stand in suspenseful silence, and then she finally blurts out, “You’re a git!”

Draco’s gape is not feigned.

“I – I’m a git?” he asks. “After what you did to me, you have the nerve to say I’m a git?”

“You dated my friend just to mess with me!”

“At least I didn’t bloody make your private life the whole school’s business!” Although to be fair, everyone is obsessed with his private life anyway. How could they not be? – Draco does not mention this, however, in favour of ranting on. “Everyone in this entire castle is laughing at me, Weasley!”

Somehow, Draco has lost control, and his hard three days’ effort is going to be for naught, unless he can somehow recover. He is aware of this, but at the same time Ginny is standing here insulting him. That is not what is supposed to happen.

She snorts. “You deserved it, you arse.”

Draco is infuriated, he is about to yell – and then he notices the edge of doubt in her voice. She is, if only a bit, guilty. She feels sorry for him, can’t believe that she hurt him badly enough to affect him so much and – Draco sees it suddenly – wants to make him normal again. She is defensive (which in this girl’s case means offensive from the get-go, a trait they have in common) because of this crushing guilt.

Those bloody wonderful Gryffindors –

“Forget it!” Draco snaps. “Just – just forget it, Weasley. I don’t care what you think I did or did not deserve, alright?” He leans in close, feels her breath on his face (and notices when it speeds up). “I am through. I don’t bloody care anymore, okay? Just leave me the hell alone.”

And just like that, Draco spins on his heel and walks away.

He is a bit hesitant about this approach. It’s rather all-or-nothing, and he would prefer something surer. But even though such a statement would crush most girls, most girls also would not have been able to provoke such a statement in the first place, and Draco has confidence in Ginny. She will refuse to lose. Or at least, she will think she’s refusing to lose, since in this case all her efforts to win only give Draco more and more room at the top.

She will follow him, and the moment she does, this will be over. Draco knows this, is sure of it, and his utter faith in Ginny Weasley is the only reason he keeps walking without a single hesitation.

Sure enough, her stubbornness does not disappoint, though she still manages to put an unexpected spin on things. This is what Draco likes about this girl.

Well, that and the way some of her plot twists turn out. Such as this one: Draco doesn’t usually enjoy being shoved places, but when it is a littlest Weasley racing up to push him with both hands into a supply closet, bolting in behind him, and slamming the door on them both – he is willing to make an exception.

“You are a git,” she insists from somewhere generally in front of him but too dark to pinpoint, and then she kisses him.

Bon appétit.

“Only a struggle twists sentimentality and lust together into love” – E. M. Forster

---

Ginny is not as good at this as she would have thought.

Not that she has daydreamed, planned, or even pondered this before. But if she had, Ginny is fairly certain that she would expect kissing in total darkness to be, if not easy, at least accomplishable. After all, people do it all the time, right?

Well, Ginny doesn’t. She’s always been able to see where her lips are going, and her eyes close after the kissing is already fully underway. She has never been accused of being a bad kisser, quite the opposite actually – which is why this is especially humiliating.

“Agh – the bloody – ow!” Draco screeches, jerking backwards. “What the – are you trying to kill me?”

“No!” Ginny snaps, because when she’s embarrassed she tends to take it out on people. “You moved! I was going to kiss you!”

Then, as an afterthought, “Lumos.”

Draco is leaning back against the wall, hands clutching his nose. His face is all screwed up in pain, and he is far from being the extremely entranced boy she had hoped. Instead, he’s just hurt and indignant. Why do Ginny’s plans never go the way they’re supposed to?

Still… It’s perhaps wrong to choose this moment to be stunned by his (masculine) beauty, but Ginny is. Maybe it’s the dim light that outlines him exactly right, or the way he’s just a little taller than her (ah, that’s it, she must have misjudged the height difference in the dark) or maybe it’s just the extremely close proximity (Filch’s closets are not exactly known for being large and roomy). In any case, Draco is appealing to Ginny on a very raw, visceral level right now, and she really wants to just kiss him.

Unfortunately, Draco has other plans. The moment she moves forward, he throws up his hands in a defensive shield. “Whoa, whoa,” he says. “Just… stay over there, Weasley. You might get my eye next.”

Ginny flushes deeply again, and even when she spots the slight smirk at the corners of his mouth and knows he’s messing with her on purpose now, she’s still not entirely sure that he doesn’t also really mean it.

Is he honestly through with her?

“But seriously,” Draco says, one hand coming back to rub gingerly at his nose while the other remains holding her off, “how are you not hurting? That was – I swear you nearly broke my nose.”

Ginny sniffs. “I,” she states with superiority, “have a very high pain threshold.”

Draco snorts, then winces and curses softly. Ginny smirks briefly at him, before returning to business.

She has decided that if Draco thinks he is through with her, a decent snog will change his mind. And even if it doesn’t – well, then she’ll at least get a decent snog, which will no doubt encourage her to keep on trying. He can protest all he wants (and Ginny will probably leave the light on this time), but they will kiss before they leave this closet.

She steps as close as she can and reaches for his hand to push it out of the way, but Draco grabs her wrist and holds it. “Weasley,” he says in a voice a little deeper than usual, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ginny takes a deep breath. His eyes are curiously intense, and she can tell he’s actually serious this time. He knows what she’s trying to do, that’s not what he’s asking – he’s asking why. If she answers truthfully, she will be making herself vulnerable in the worst way.

She meets his eyes and does not blink (she is a Gryffindor, you know). “Securing a boyfriend.”

Draco looks –surprised, and – maybe? –pleased too. For half a second.

Then he smirks, and it’s just dripping with so much raw sexuality that Ginny can’t believe nothing has burst into flames yet. Or that nobody’s naked.

Ooh. That’s a nice image.

“Well,” Draco says, and he’s still leaning up against the wall, but somehow he’s lounging now, and sort of inviting her to just come closer and closer, “you’re not exactly going about it the right way.” His hand twists on her wrist and draws Ginny up to him, and she comes eagerly, thinking, yes, yes. “Shall I show you how?”

Draco’s hand is in the process of wrapping around Ginny’s back and hers are resting on his chest. Their feet are entangled in the narrow free space amongst the mops and dustpans, and his head is getting closer and closer to hers, his eyes burning. Ginny is more than ready to succumb to that look they hold, but –

She bursts out laughing. Draco stops short, and for a few seconds, Ginny is just laughing hysterically in his stiff grip.

“What, exactly, are you laughing at, Weasley?” Draco sounds almost petulant, and it only makes Ginny laugh harder.

“You – you – should I be worried, Draco?” Ginny chortles. “I mean I have to admit, I never would have thought that you would be able to give me advice on how to get a boyfriend, but you know it actually explains quite a bit –”

Draco’s cheeks turn pink, and he abruptly releases her. Ginny falls back into a crammed shelf, still laughing crazily, and her wand drops from her hands and goes out. “You – ” he says, and Ginny knows he wouldn’t be meeting her eyes if she could see his face, “I never said – stop laughing, dammit!”

Ginny can’t. She can’t really breathe either, which is a little unfortunate, but this is just so priceless, after all the look on his face...

When she finally recovers, Draco is sulkily silent. “Ah, come off it,” Ginny says, wiping her eyes. “You have to admit that was funny.”

He makes no sound, which Ginny takes as no I don’t. She bites her lip to avoid laughing again.

“Fine. Okay, I’m done. Really.” Ginny peers around for him in the darkness. “Argh, what happened to my bloody wand? I can’t see a thing.”

“Good,” Draco says, and for some reason he’s not exactly petulant anymore. “Then maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

A hand reaches out from – somewhere, brushes her shoulder. It catches, and another one lands on her other shoulder. Together, they slowly move up.

“The trick is,” Draco says conversationally as he cups Ginny’s cheeks and tilts her head back slightly, “to go slow. You don’t need to pounce on your partner like a ravenous beast, you know.”

Ginny would say something in her defense here, but Draco has somehow effectively flipped the mood again, and she can’t really do anything but hold still. His thumbs brush the corners of her lips.

“Look before you leap,” Draco says, “so to speak.”

Then his lips descend carefully upon Ginny’s, and pretty much all thoughts other than oh yes leave her head. Draco really is good at this, as good as Ginny was bad, and her eyes slip closed (even if it makes no difference) as she melts into his embrace.

Oh yes. This is good. This is very, very good, and Ginny is getting very into it. She’s kissing back hard, and her hands are doing that thing where they don’t know whether to stay in his hair or clutching onto his neck or shoulders and what began as a relatively chaste press of lips is rapidly heating up this little supply closet.

Draco presses Ginny back up against some metal shelves, and she yanks him closer; he trips on a stray mop-handle and a pile of things go crashing into a wall. Neither of them really notice, as they are too busy taking a quick break to breathe.

“Does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?” Ginny asks, or probably pants.

Draco actually laughs, goes, “Cheeky–” and cuts himself off to kiss her again, hard. Ginny’s fingers skim the edge of his shirt and he groans.

He retaliates by doing something that makes Ginny moan shamefully loudly, and it’s just perfect and hot and –

Light floods them, blinding and sobering. They instinctively jerk away from each other, and Ginny bangs her funny bone into the corner of the shelf, making her grip it and curse in pain.

She spies her wand on the floor, engulfed in a very tall shadow, and suddenly begins to pray. Please, please, let it be no one, please don’t let this be happening, please-

“Mr. Malfoy,” a stern, disapproving, familiar voice says. “Miss Weasley.”

Ginny slowly lifts her head, squinting in horror at the terrible shape in the doorway. This can’t be, it’s all her worst nightmares come true –

Snape smirks and his voice is just that horrible blend of sarcastic and humiliating and completely (and utterly degradingly) amused. “If you would care to step out of the supply closet.”

---

Normally, Ginny does not enjoy examining Professor Snape’s polyturgs. It is a punishment reserved for the worst of the worst (meaning usually Neville Longbottom) because it takes time, discipline, and an iron stomach. Oh, and a complete knowledge of how to spell away the worst sort of muck. Worse, if a student misses a single spot, Snape will gleefully hand them over to Filch.

It’s clearly a stressful business. Still, today is slightly different, namely because of the boy standing next to her (he, by the way, is actually cleaning out cauldrons – because apparently making out and making lots of noise in a supply closet is a minor offense if you are Draco, but doing the same is almost expel-worthy if you are a Weasley, which is typical).

Normally Ginny would be furious at Draco, for the disparity in their punishments if nothing else. But after a full two hours of smirking, he sets down his last gleaming cauldron (to be honest, Ginny would have expected him to be terrible at cleaning them by hand, but it appears his potions skill extends down to every last little detail – which is also just typical) and takes one of the remaining two polyturgs himself, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

Draco Malfoy is not the sort of boy that would do that for anyone. It takes someone special – and she isn’t talking about dark curly hair or affectionate dispositions or even very generous chests here – special as in someone he truly cares about. And even if he feels perfectly free insulting her and laughing at her attempts to kiss him and interrupting her and smirking at her and whatever else, Ginny has confidence that she may have actually won this little war of theirs. Because he will do all of this with glee, but at the same time as he explains why exactly having a bumpy nose is relevant (“When you charge at someone like a hippogriff and try to kiss them, it makes it that much more painful, Weasley” “You really are gay, aren’t you, if you’ve been noticing that about my brothers”) he will be peering into that one hole no one can explain on the higher part of the polyturg’s torso, checking for black spots.

And that’s got to be love.