Revenge
Chapter One: Precedent

Death was imminent.

The very thrum of it could be felt beating to the exact tempo of Ginevra Weasley's footsteps as she marched down the hallway, raging fury emanating from her dark eyes like an unstoppable fire. Her hair crackled and sparked with electricity and her robes billowed behind her in a fashion that was usually associated with either a slimy Potions Master or the Headmaster. It was as if robes were aware of who held power; they remained tepid and limp on everyone else. Ginny's robes fairly flew.

The surrounding students all knew exactly why she was angry, of course. Secrets rarely, if ever, lasted in Hogwarts. There were too many gossips, too many eyes and ears. Even the walls could be traitors.

Ginny's boyfriend had cheated on her, with one, rightfully terrified, Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne was safely - or as safely as possible, when one was dealing with an angry Ginny - ensconced in the Slytherin dungeons, protected by those of her friends who had not yet abandoned her out of terror and the viable fear that they would be marked as enemies of the Weasley girl through their association. But Ginny was not concerned with the whereabouts of Daphne for now. Right now, she wanted revenge on him.

She snarled viciously as she stalked down the hallway, her hand fisted over her wand and her other hand squeezed so tightly into a ball that her fingernails drew little crescent moons of blood from her palm.

How dare he? Her nostrils flared, and she took on an uncanny resemblance to a wolf. Her eyes narrowed into slits and she inhaled sharply through her nose, almost as if she was testing the air for his scent. As she spun into the next corridor, her pace quickened and her feet started to slap the floor loudly, like she was trying to call as much attention to herself as she could. She wanted people to see this.

Finally, she ended up in the Great Hall, and found it scattered with students, all of whom looked up anxiously at her entrance. She made her way to the Gryffindor table, shoving a petulant third year out of her way as she zoned in on her quarry.

Ron, her traitorous brother, stood up with his hands held out in a motion of surrender. He moved his hands through the air, towards her shoulders, like he wanted to restrain her. He wasn't surrendering, he wanted to placate her.

"Ginny," he began, using his most authoritative tone, "let's just calm down for a minute-"

"Get out of the way," she snapped, impatient. She made to move past him, but his hands found her upper arms and he gripped her hard.

"Gin, listen," he tried again, his voice sounding strained. She yanked her arms from his grip, almost hitting him in the nose with her elbow.

"Get out of my way!"

Over his shoulder, she could see the black hair and the glint of glasses of the boy who had so completely duped her. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-About-To-Be-Killed-By-A-Sixteen-Year-Old-Female.

Hermione, equally traitorous in her act of protection, had her one hand resting firmly on Ron's shoulder, and the other lightly reassuring Harry.

Ginny began to see red.

She had only found out about his 'indiscretion' all of seven minutes ago, and already it seemed like the Harry Potter she had been in love with had never existed. The Trio she had never truly been a part of had become, almost instantaneously, a cement wall against her. Impenetrable, implacable, immovable. They were a separate entity that would never be a part of her, a single being that was untouchable, and something that she didn't really want to explore any longer.

She forced her way past Ron and found herself at last in front of Harry.

He looked up at her with an expression she knew all too well. The kind of patronizing regret she had always hated; the kind of look she used to get from her older brothers when they would tell her that, no, she couldn't come play Quidditch, because, yes, she was too little. She was too young to understand.

It was the look that set her apart from them as the girl who was to be loved and coddled but never included.

Well, she would show them. She would make them regret ever having excluded her. They would regret treating her as though she was too dumb to understand.

They would rue the day that they had shunned Ginevra Molly Weasley.

She didn't even need her wand to send them the most powerful Bat Bogey Hex any of them had ever seen. Had she used her wand, and spoken the incantation out loud, there would probably be no Trio left. As it was, even without the incantation and the wand channel, they were buried so deeply beneath a pile of slimy, fluttery bat bogeys that it would take at least a week for them to recover.

She spat on the pile, as if it would make them any filthier, and turned on her heel. The entire way back to her dorm room she was muttering under her breath, sending mutinous glares at any who dared ask her if she was alright, or, heaven forbid, actually reach out a hand to stop her for any unbeknown reason.

Once firmly locked in the dorm room, she began to seethe openly, flinging her robe across the room, kicking her bed, pummeling her pillow with her fists, and sending such a vicious blow with her foot to her trunk, the big box flipped over and the contents sprawled onto the floor. What had been the at the bottom of the trunk was now near the top, and Ginny found herself face to face with a top which had been severely grown out of, and a brilliant idea popped into her head.

It was time for a makeover. After all, how was she ever going to get revenge on the Trio – mostly Harry – if no one ever noticed her? The first step to exacting revenge was distracting the competition: 1. Dazzle them with hot clothes, 2. Sneak attack when jaws hit floor. She nodded firmly to herself. On short notice, the plan wasn’t half bad.

She grinned manically. When her dorm mate, Sterling, came in a moment later, she stopped at the door with an expression of pure shock.

"Ginny! What are you doing?"

Her clothes were now strewn across the bed, and Ginny was taking her wand to them methodically, shrinking and cutting and adjusting each article to be smaller and tighter. She transfigured several skirts into sheath skirts and a blouse into a dress so formfitting that there would be absolutely nothing left to the imagination when Ginny wore it.

***

Sterling sat dumbly on her bed. Perhaps she should get help?

Ginny had certainly never had a meltdown before, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. Was this the end of Ginny Weasley? Was this foreign girl here to stay? A strip of fabric flew across the air and the smell of burning cotton reached her nose.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

Sterling was wrong. It was going to be marvelous. It was going to be shocking.

When Ginny unveiled her first step in absolutely getting over the Golden Trio the next morning, there was a feeling of jaw dropping awe throughout the Great Hall.

She looked amazing.

She had done her hair in big waves that fell well past her shoulder blades to the tucked in waist that was now accentuated more than it had ever been before. Her crisp white blouse was tucked in to a high waist skirt that sculpted its way around the soft flare of her hips and down to the narrowing of her silhouette just below her mid thigh. She had somehow managed to get hold of a brilliant, thick black belt with a shiny oversized buckle and it made her waist seem like it wasn't even there. Her legs seemed to be miles long. Her neck was elegant and pretty, and her dewy skin was pale and pinkened with the attention currently being sent her direction.

Somehow, no one had noticed just how slim and fit she was. Somehow, the male population had failed to see just how tall and luxe and glamorous she was when she had just been the hanger on to the Trio, and under the protection of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. But now that she had been so obviously shunned and cast aside, every single male had his eyes fixed firmly on Ginny Weasley.

And the eyes that held the most interest, the most hunger, belonged to Draco Malfoy.

***

Just when had the little Weasley grown so- so gorgeous? He licked his lips. Suddenly his mouth felt very dry.

He was attracted. He was drawn, like she was the only pool of water for miles and miles. From her hesitant place near the door, she glanced towards his table and saw him looking at her. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and her delectable mouth quirked into a half smile. He moved down the bench and motioned to the room he had just made. She raised her eyebrow and he grinned salaciously. She shrugged her delicate shoulders almost imperceptibly and made her way over to his part of the table.

A hush fell over the room, and each of her footfalls were audible on the cold stone floor. She seemed to grow more confident with the pressure of everyone watching her. Her shoulders drew back and her spine
straightened. She smirked.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said when she reached him. She placed a fine boned hand on his shoulder and used him for balance as she sat down. Her skirt was too tight to get her legs over the bench, so she didn't try. She sat with her back to the table, and the rest of the school, and faced him, folding one knee over the other.

Instantly, the hush dissipated and an excited murmur shot through the students.

"Hello, Weasley," Draco said. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, every inch the aristocratic gentleman he was bred to be. Suave to the core.

She inclined her head, not out of submission, but out of mockery.

She leaned in, and he could hear her breaths, smell her perfume. "So," she breathed. "Would you like to make Harry Potter angry?"

"Are you part of the bargain?" said Draco, drawling his words just enough that he sounded more seductive than he felt. She smiled, and her eyes sparked with humor and mischief.

"I might be." she told him.

"Then definitely." He put a hand on her thigh; low enough that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable, but high enough that the rest of the people in the hall saw the possessiveness of his action. She put a hand over his and squeezed it.

"Good." She looked in his eyes. "Kiss me."

And so, never one to refuse such a direct order from a lady, he did.

***

Death could wait. She had never felt this thrill of exhilaration before. She had never been this brazen, this shameless. She could practically hear the condemning looks that she knew Harry and Ron and Hermione were sending her. And she didn't care.

The freedom was intoxicating. His hands on her were intoxicating. His left hand ran in lazy circles over her back and her neck and then to the side of her face, tangling in her hair and his thumb brushing her jaw bone so softly that she had to arch her neck to feel any contact between their skin.

He was clearly a master at this. Draco Malfoy. Sex God. Sexy, sexy beast.
His eyes, when she had caught his gaze- they had sent shivers down her spine like someone had dropped an ice cube down her shirt. Cold grey, molten steel illuminated by desire. Her belly had tightened convulsively and she had had to squeeze her hands into fists again to retain a reasonable train of thought.

His tongue slipped between her lips and traced the rim. He came up for air and breathed heavily against her cheek, "Go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"Absolutely," she breathed back. And then he was kissing her again, devouring her, tasting her lips, her skin, her tongue. She could smell the fresh scent of mint and lemon on his skin, invigorating.

Finally, they broke apart. Their lips were swollen and her hair was tangled and knotted. His shirt was crinkled.

She wiped the back of her hand as nonchalantly as she was able across her mouth, dragging the now nearly rubbed off lipstick she had applied so carefully that morning with it.

She gave him a saucy wink and snatched a piece of bacon from his plate. Standing, she turned to look at him once more, and just before she bit into the meat, she said, "Hogsmeade. See you around, Draco."

And then she left.

One glance over the rest of the hall told her that her work here was finished. The Trio's mouths were hanging open like a giant, collective fish, and Ron's dangerous shade of puce meant that she had no more than ten minutes to escape and barricade herself in her bedroom. Harry was an unusual shade of mottled pink that she had not seen him wear before, and she guessed that he would be joining Ron in their attempted hassling. Hermione looked equal parts disgusted and intrigued.

Ginny blew a kiss in their direction, and then left the hall.

Damn, she was good

Revenge
Chapter Two: Dangerous

He wandered the corridors for over an hour before he finally remembered that he was supposed to be in Transfiguration. His lips still retained the almost painful feeling reminiscent of hot coals, tingling and shooting off sparks when he thought of their kiss, and it was so damned distracting he was surprised he even remembered his own name. Everywhere her hands had met his skin - his neck, his back, his arms - there were cool shivers and goose bumps. It was a peculiar feeling. He had never been very choosy when it came to girls, after all he was seventeen, but it was slightly discomfiting; Draco had never before found anyone irresistible enough to feel so needy.

Although her taunt regarding making Potter angry had been the sole thought in his mind when he had decided to kiss her, the instant their skin connected, his thoughts had mercifully died a quick death, and there had been no lingering thoughts of the Boy Who Sucked running rampant through his brain. No, she had been like a drug, wiping him blank but for pure bliss and unadulterated joy.

Of course, when the other Slytherins came asking, which they were sure to do, in about twenty minutes, to be precise, when class ended, he would be telling them that his sole purpose in kissing Weasley was to make Potter's life miserable. No word of his ulterior motives would be leaving his lips.

Lips.

Oh, God, her velvety soft lips, so sweet in their caress-

He sounded like a swot.

But her drug-like effect seemed to be holding. For over an hour, not one memory of the war came upon him unannounced, and for once, he was able to concentrate, on absolutely nothing at all. And it was marvelous.

***

Ginny had rather shocked herself.

She had always recognized that there was a glimmer of the brazen in her; a light reminder of her year with Tom. She used to be afraid of that part of herself; she had been for many years. Partly because to some extent there was a war going on inside her between the sweet little innocent part of her, and the darker, more sinful side - but mostly because of her family. Because as much as she knew her family loved her, she wasn't sure just how they would take to having a daughter filled with thoughts and ideas and desires inspired by the only very recently dead Lord Voldemort.

It wasn't as though she was going to become the next Dark Lord (or Lady, as it were) or anything - of course not. But she couldn't deny that while before Tom she had been innocent, subtle as a kettle, and dumb as a post, she was now in possession of the sly, intelligent qualities that Tom had taught her through misfortunate experience.

Simply put, Ginny, like Tom, was dangerous to any who crossed her, albeit in a slightly different way. For example, Harry Potter and his dim-witted followers (perhaps Hermione was not so dim-witted as the others, but she was far too 'good' and 'pure' to expect anything). They would do well to watch themselves, and not to underestimate Ginny.

So, to really test her newfound comfort with her 'Dark Side', she was planning a little exhibitionism in the Great Hall during dinner.

As it was Friday, uniforms were not necessary after the final class of the day. She had already slightly broken the rule by wearing a Muggle outfit to breakfast that morning, but the school was simply too shocked to call her on it. And when a prefect had come up afterwards to deduct points, Ginny had run away before the poor girl had had the chance to open her mouth.

The Muggleborn students had been using the weekends as a letdown time and to wear their 'Muggle clothes' for eons, often to the shock of the traditional pureblood families, who, before integration with their fellow students, had never even heard of 'trousers'.

With the help of Sterling and some of her less flashy fashion magazines, Ginny had managed to throw together a sexy new wardrobe that, based on his reaction to her earlier, more conservative outfit, Draco would truly appreciate. This, of course, was her goal.

She had known Harry for six years, and she had known him well, through Ron's experience of him as well as her own. She knew that he would never regret something lost unless it was lost to someone he couldn't stand: Voldemort, Snape, Lucius, Draco...

And so, as she had decided the night before, she was going to make Harry regret his actions, and even more, the loss of her friendship. And she was going to use Draco to do it. She would win this war.

After all, it wasn't as if Draco would object.

***

Damn, he hoped she'd do it again, Draco thought idly, as he ran his fingers over his lips for the seventy-ninth time that afternoon, just as distracted as he had been all day.

***

For the second time in as many days, Sterling stood in the dormitory she shared with Ginny and watched with equal parts fascination and concern as her friend rampaged around the room.

"I told you that you should wear the green dress already," Sterling pointed out as another outfit flew across the room to land in a careless heap on Ginny's bed.

"I know, but-," Ginny panted as she struggled to remove a pair of skin-tight jeans, "-it didn't feel dramatic enough!"

"Dramatic enough? What exactly are you hoping for? You're already going to Hogsmeade with him tomorrow, isn't that drama enough for the Trio? They won't know whether to strangle and disown you or follow you!"

"I know, but the dress didn't feel like it was living up to the precedent of the skirt."

"Ginny, you can't have a precedent already; it's only been eight hours!"

"Whatever," Ginny said stubbornly.

"Fine," Sterling sighed with aggravation. "Wear this."

She went to Ginny's closet and hauled out a pair of high waist pin trousers and a daring little gold blouse with flared sleeves and a collar that dipped low enough to reveal just a hint of cleavage, without being overly trashy. She tossed out a pair of pumps and some dangly earrings and scowled fiercely until Ginny put them on.

The overall effect was posh elegance, which Sterling privately thought Draco would appreciate more than the trashy glam look Ginny seemed to be leaning towards. It was always better to ooze class than easiness, as Sterling's mother had always said. At least, she had until she'd run off with the bin man.

Perhaps it was better not to dwell on such things.

When Ginny finished her hair and Sterling pulled on her own clothes, they went to the common room, intending only to pass through and continue down to the Great Hall. But Sterling ran smack into the back of one rather large and imposing Harry Potter.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly, trying to escape before he saw Ginny, but it was too late. He turned around to apologize but saw his ex-girlfriend standing a little bit behind her. Sterling watched with not a small amount of amusement as his eyes widened and his pupils dilated to the point that the emerald of his eyes was largely disappeared. While she was waiting for the drool to start dripping from his lips, Ron noticed his friend's gaze and turned to follow it, seeing Ginny.

Please don't make a scene, Sterling thought fervently, save it -

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, anger flushing around his collar, "What the hell are you wearing?"

The common room, predictably, went quiet. Fights were a commonly watched and eagerly awaited thing around Hogwarts, and Weasley fights were the best. Sterling tried not to roll her eyes. Honestly, everyone was so predictable it was as if someone was reading a script.

"Nothing, shut up Ronald," said Ginny, her voice clipped. She marched off in the direction of the portrait hole, looking every inch the blithely unconcerned female, but Sterling could see the tightly clenched fists held taut at her side.

"I know it's nothing! Ginny, go change, or - or - I'll write to mum!" Ron continued on, gaining pomp as he went. "And about that Malfoy thing! That was just disgusting, I'll bet she'd love to hear about that, now wouldn't she?"

Ginny slowly turned around, a tiny smile playing about her lips. "She already knows," she said simply, and then she continued her exit of the common room.

Ron gaped and deflated like a freshly popped balloon, recognizing that, if Mum already knew, he had nothing left to use as leverage.

Sterling did roll her eyes, knowing full well that Ginny had lied to him, and then followed the youngest Weasley ever to snog a Malfoy to the Great Hall.

***

"It was bound to happen sometime," Sterling told her. "You share a common room, you can't just not see him ever!"

"I can avoid them," Ginny insisted, growing annoyed. She emphasized the word 'them', lest Sterling think she was hung up on Harry and a mess because of it - because she wasn't.

Quite the opposite. Even in the space of a day, she had gone from being outraged and rightly furious to merely being highly annoyed and disappointed.

It stung that Harry should think so lowly of the value of her friendship to do such a thing as kiss Daphne Greengrass (or at least, that's what she assumed they did, she wasn't quite sure quite how far they got), and then lie about it. It hurt that while she had been serious about their relationship, he obviously hadn't shared her respect. And it cut her to the quick that even when Harry was in the wrong, he patronized her.

But she didn't feel like killing him anymore. She just wanted to hurt him a little, like he had hurt her. She wanted him to feel used and dirty. She wanted to make him sad.

But she would never be able to go through with it. She could thrust the knife in Harry's chest, but when it came right down to it, she couldn't twist it. She couldn't make him scream with agony.

Not because she loved him.

But because she didn't.

He never broke her heart, but she knew exactly how to crush his. She knew exactly what to say, exactly what to tell him to make sure he would never be quite the same again. And a lesser, more spiteful girl would do it. But Ginny wasn't spiteful, or hateful. She was vengeful, but she wasn't cruel.

And so she would let him go, because he hadn't really damaged her. She would let him off with just a little revenge.

"Ginny?" Sterling said, hesitancy in her voice. Ginny looked up and realized that Sterling had been prodding her for some time now.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Daydreaming." She looked around and realized that Sterling had hauled her off into an old empty classroom near the Great Hall.

"What exactly is your plan?" Sterling said, rolling her eyes.

"Plan?"

"Yes, plan. Plan - what is your plan?" She snapped her fingers in front of Ginny's face.

"Oh. Well, I was just going to wing it."

"Wing it?" Sterling demanded incredulously. "Don't you even have some sort of basic outline down?"

"A bit. Go in, sit with Malfoy, snog him, renew plans for Hogsmeade," Ginny said.

Sterling let out a strangled cough.

"You will never be any good at subterfuge. I don't think being an Auror is the best career choice for you."

Ginny shrugged.

"At least make it look like the Trio made you do it," Sterling said, shaking her head.

"I can do that," Ginny said, and then she giggled.

***

The effect of Ginny's entrance on the male population of Hogwarts was much the same as that morning, except for the fact that this time they were somewhat more prepared to be shocked.

They had been used to skirts on girls, as they had essentially been wearing very long skirts themselves over pants for centuries. Witches, however, at least from traditional Pureblood families, had been living in a pre-WW1 Muggle clothing era for centuries. Pants on a woman were shocking.

Jeans, the students of Hogwarts had almost managed to handle on girls. Almost. A boy still occasionally got hot 'round the collar when a Muggleborn girl strolled by, much to the entertainment of the Muggleborn boys, but, in general, the fainting spells had passed.

But never before had any of those boys who had been so shocked seen anything like Ginny Weasleys legs sheathed by a pair of trousers like these.

Mile high slim legs.

Fantasies abounded.

One young Hufflepuff even brought back the fainting.

Ginny Weasley was in the building.

***

Harry had often thought about what life would feel like if he weren't himself, the savior of the Wizarding World. Would it be better, or worse? Perhaps his relationships would go easier.

But, it was pointless to digress and try to fool himself into thinking that his status would be changing any time soon. He was who he was, and he would never, short of a dangerous spell or two, be anyone different. And as his life went on, he was finding that he was quite alright with it.
Mostly.

But when Ginny walked into the Great Hall that evening, he had a taste of what his life would be like if he were someone lesser. Someone invisible.

She laughed her way over to the Gryffindor table, brushing off comments and lascivious attempts at flirting from some of the braver boys, making her way to where the Trio sat. She did not glance at Harry. Not even once.

"Hello, Hermione," she said, her smile like a small sun in his line of vision. His heart clenched and he was reminded why he had fallen for her to begin with. Why he had fallen in love with her.

Hermione was confused, Harry could see, and unsure of what to do. Stay loyal to Ron and Harry and say nothing, or give in to common courtesy's demands and say hello back? Her inherent genius had not prepared her for this stupid feud.

And it was stupid. He really ought to apologize, but every time he got up his courage, his pride would rear on its ugly head and he would shrink back into himself, muttering under his breath.

Finally, Hermione gave in and smiled back, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Ron looked furious.

He interrupted, just as Hermione was about to say hello back and invite Ginny to sit with them. Harry was glad he did, even though he really wanted Ginny to stay near him.

"Go away, Ginny. You can't sit here until you apologize," Ron said. His fists clenched on the table.

"Oh?" Ginny said, her smile fading a little into one more bitter and annoyed. "And is this opinion shared by the three of you?" she asked, her voice light despite the tense words.

"Yes," Ron said tightly. Hermione looked rather shocked at him, and Harry felt a little bit annoyed himself with Ron, for an inexplicable reason. Which was ridiculous, because he had no claim on Ginny anymore. He had given her up, hadn't he?

"Alright then." Ginny smiled again. "It was nice chatting with you, Hermione." She waved and looked towards the Slytherin table, where Draco was watching her keenly with welcoming lust in his eyes. Harry found his own hands hardening into fists. Draco sodding Malfoy.

She waltzed down the hallway with very little care for what everyone around her was saying and made her way to the far table, where Draco was again budging up to make room for her.

Unlike this morning she was not wearing overly restrictive clothing, and so instead of sitting with her back to Harry and Ron and Hermione, she straddled the bench so the three of them could see the side of her smiling face as she leaned in to receive a peck on her cheek by the Slytherin Bugger.

Harry knew then exactly what it would be like to be treated as someone normal, someone mundane. He had been thrown over, and he felt every inch the normal boy who had done something incredibly stupid.

His stupid plan had blown up in his face.

And, he thought with sickness churning in his belly as Ginny moved in for a good snog, Draco Malfoy was reaping the benefits.

How could she?

Draco sodding Malfoy.

Harry threw up in his Shepherds Pie.

How was that for mundane?