Reviews: 4 | Table of Contents | - Text Size +
Platform 9 ¾ was bustling still as the train sounded the whistle which called all passengers for last boarding. Students moved this way and that, dashing through the crowd, pulling trunks on to the train and gathering hugs and good-byes from relatives. The hooting of owls and sounds of other animals only added to the din as Ginny fell through the barrier followed by her mother, who looked more harassed than usual.
“Where is Ron?” Mrs. Weasley snapped at Ginny. “His final year and he’s bound and determined to not spend a minute more there than he has to. And now he is making Harry and Hermione late as well!”
Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother’s outburst, watching the barrier herself with one eye, while the other scanned the platform for anyone she might know.
Mrs. Weasley only had time to tap her foot impatiently and glance at her watch once in the few moments that passed between her appearance with her daughter on the platform and when Ron came bursting through. He was followed by Hermione, Harry and Mr. Weasley, all as equally out of breath. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to scold her youngest son, as well as her husband, but was preempted by her son’s enthusiastic hug.
“Sorry Mum!” Ron said, hugging her briefly and stepping back with a grin. “Better get on the train though – we don’t want to get left behind.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, swallowing the sharp reprimand for once and turning to hug her daughter and then Harry and Hermione. “Take care of yourselves and enjoy yourselves – be young!” she said, sighing as she looking at Ginny and the others. So much had happened in their young lives and there was sure to be more before their lives had finished. Mr. Weasley passed around hugs as well and repeated the warning, especially to his young daughter – the treasure of his heart.
The trio and Ginny quickly moved to the train and boarded it just as the engine began to chug, pulling the cars from the station. They waved to Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley as the train picked up speed and left the station behind completely.
With a sigh, Harry reached out and took the trunks from them. “I’ll find us a seat. Go off to your meeting,” he said in an understated tone. And without another word, he took the handles of the trunks and lugged them toward the back of the train.
Sadly, Hermione and Ron watched him go before the three of them headed from the prefect car. It was hard for them to be without their best friend and Harry had too much on his mind to be left alone. A silent looked passed between them before Ginny sniped, “Are you going to stand there and make goo-goo eyes at each other or are we going to the meeting?”
Hermione flushed and turned around to apologise to Ginny while Ron glared at her. Ginny merely shrugged. “One would think that being Head Girl you would want to be on time.” The statement was innocent enough but it had that sarcastic edge that Ginny wielded most of her words with. Hermione closed her mouth without uttering the apology she had meant to give and turned and started for the prefect car.
Up ahead, in the prefect car itself, Draco was glaring at their new head boy – Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw house. The sneer was carefully refined to the point where it could almost be called a pleasant expression – unless you knew Draco well enough. Pansy Parkinson did.
Arranging her new green robes carefully, she sat down next to Draco and murmured, caustically, “Glaring at him is not going to change the fact that we have a mudblood and a half-blood as head girl and head boy. Both seem to have an imbalanced sense of their own over-achieving worth.”
Draco didn’t even respond to the comment except to nod his head in acknowledgement of her words and presence.
Sighing mentally, Pansy made a show of rearranging her robes to better display herself. Draco’s coolness toward her had ceased to become mildly irritating in the last year and now ran toward a burning anger that she struggled to control around him. His blood wasn’t any better than hers and it was certain that some day they would be a fine match – pure blood servants of the Dark Lord creating more pure descendants for him. A small smile crept on to her face at the delightful thought and then she tucked it away to savour another time.
“So, Draco, darling,” Pansy cooed softly, laying her hand on his strong knee, “How was your summer?”
Draco looked down at the hand with a quiet glare. It would not do to remove the offending appendage, as he knew his parents were fostering an alliance with Pansy’s. It would not do for rumors to go circulating back to his father at this point – not when he was near enough to escape from the clutching grasp. “It was fine, Pansy,” Draco replied coolly, moving his gaze up and over her body, stifling the shudder her slight tendency toward plumpness brought in to his mind. “But I am sure you were quite aware of that before you asked the question.”
Controlling the flush with cool Slytherin pride, Pansy nodded her head. He always made her seem like some kind of gauche little girl instead of the sophisticated woman she tried to be. “I was aware,” Pansy answered with a well-planned toss of her hair. “It was polite of me to ask though. What would have made it more entertaining for you?”
/Someone worth shagging/ Draco thinks with amusement, wondering if he dare shock Pansy with such a statement. Of course, she would only take that as some kind of invitation and he wanted nothing of the sort. “Entertaining company,” Draco finally noted, feeling that was a safe enough answer all things considered.
“You know I am always here for you, darling,” Pansy said smoothly.
“And I prefer not to allow myself the pleasure of your company lest I wear it out,” Draco retorted in that casually cool voice, eyes focusing on the window opposite them and watching the scenery pass.
Pansy’s hand squeezed Draco’s knee. “You should not deprive yourself on my account,” Pansy purred sickeningly. “Perhaps we can make things more interesting with a wager.”
“A wager?” Draco inquired, raising an eyebrow at the blonde next to him. “What did you have in mind, Pansy?” Draco always enjoyed taking money from other people – in fact he often did. It was added to the small fortune from his maternal grandfather that he was amassing in order to aid himself in breaking free of his father to play pro-Quidditch as he wished (his father disparaged it ‘Only Boys do such things. You will be a Man.’) and without the Dark Lord’s brand upon his arm. Besides he was a Malfoy, a Malfoy always got what they wanted – no matter what it cost other people in sacrificies.
“Let me propose this,” Pansy said with a smug smile. She had his interest now. Draco’s enjoyment for money was well known in the Slytherin common room and his luck was amazing. Few would bet with him now, knowing full well that it would mean an empty pocket by the time they were done. “We shall wager than you cannot convince someone, someone I select, to go with you to the dance they are planning for this Friday. If you win and she goes with you, I will pay you 100 galleons. If I win, and she does not go with you, you will dance attendance on me for a month.” Pansy smirked, satisfied with her wager.
“You get to pick?” Draco asked with a single raised eyebrow. Pansy inclined her head in answer and Draco then smirked, figuring he had a way to make it difficult to find someone who wouldn’t be acceptable to him, “Fine. It must be recognizable as female and pureblood.”
Pansy frowned slightly. That immediately ruled out her first choice of that dreadful Granger, but there must be someone just as unlikely to say yes and pureblood. As Pansy struggled to think, running through lineages of families in her mind, the door slid open and Hermione, Ron and Ginny entered. Hermione immediately moved over to talk briefly with Anthony Goldstein as brother and sister sat down and worked on ignoring each other.
The red hair made a prominent impact in Pansy’s Slytherin thinking. /Brilliant. Simply brilliant. It fulfills his requirements and more importantly – mine./ “Alright, Draco darling,” she said softly, leaning toward him to whisper. “I pick the dear, delightful muggle loving little Weaslette.” And she sat back up straight and smoothed her robes feeling quite pleased with herself. /He’s as good as mine./
It was only a cool head that kept Draco from visibly blanching at the suggestion that he take Ginny Weasley to the dance. He looked over at her and managed not to shudder though his face looked like he had sucked on an entire lemon. /Ginny Weasley?! Damn it. I am so screwed, but I need that damn hundred galleons!/ His cool grey eyes raked over her. /At least she is female and not that filthy mudblood Granger. Though she certainly could do better then hanging around with her./ Draco continued to frown and stare at Ginny. “Done. She’ll be coming as my date,” Draco stated in a calm voice, tearing his eyes away from the train wreck he was avoiding and looking at Pansy who smirked with pleasure.
“What do you think crawled up Draco’s bum?” Ron murmured with pleasure in Ginny’s ear, just as Hermione and Anthony were beginning the meeting now that everyone was accounted for. “He looks like he ate all the wrong flavour of Bertie Botts’ Beans.” Ron chortled happily at the mental image. “Serves the stupid git right.”
Ginny made some noise that may have been agreement, before adding, “Well, he is sitting next to Parkinson. She’s not exactly what one would call pleasant company.” Obviously it was enough of a consensus because Ron continued on grinning, pleased with Malfoy’s discomfort and ignoring Ginny’s lack of continued words. /Gits should not be so Merlin all attractive/ Ginny moaned mentally. /What the hell was it with slimy Merlin forsaken Slytherins looking good enough to eat?! I mean really now… how was that fair?/ Shaking out her long mane of red hair, a darker and more intense red than earlier years, Ginny considered him from under her lashes.
His legs were lean and long, sticking out and crossed at the ankles. His blonde hair brushed against his sharp cheekbones and his cool grey eyes were turned away. In contrast to the coolness of his coloring, his lips were warm and red and looked ripe for kissing. His arms were folded across a chest that, while lean, probably hid more muscles than Ginny could catalogue at this distance – not that she would want to of course. Snorting derisively at herself, Ginny turned and focused her gaze on Hermione and Anthony, blocking out Draco “Gorgeous but I’d rather do Neville’s frog” Malfoy.
Meanwhile Draco was taking stock of the Weaslette and completely ignoring whatever the hell it was the mudblood and the half-blood were discussing –it was could wait, for he had far more pressing matters ─100 galleons worth─ to deal with. He needed to get those damn galleons from Parkinson. And that meant making nice with the Weaslette of all things. Draco managed to suppress a rather indelicate shudder at the thought of getting close and being nice to such a … thing.
/Cold and clinical Malfoy, Slytherin pride will get you through this/, he thought as he continued with his appraisal of the Weaslette. The hair was obnoxious and red but he supposed he could overlook that. Her figure at least was delicate, more feminine (if a Weasel could be feminine), than that of her oafish older brother – all ten million of them. After Ron, Draco rather lost count and it certainly didn’t matter. They all answered to Weasel in Draco’s mind. It was hard to tell how shapely she was under that formless robe which hid oversized jeans and a sweater that was obviously a hand me down. Certainly not feminine attire, but perhaps he could do something about that. Her face though was neat and clean and her hands small and slim, he noted to himself. She didn’t seem to be lacking in general hygiene at least so he would be able to at least tolerate being close to her.
As he finished sorting through her assets, or lack there of, the meeting called his attention back as the mudblood seemed to be calling for some sort of discussion and he was sure to be able to get in some sly digs. He might as well as start most of the year off on the right foot.
Ginny could feel her skin pricking. Someone was watching her. Hoping to catch whoever it was in the act, she slowly turned her head in the direction she was being stared at from. She looked just in time to see Draco Malfoy turning his head to pay attention to Anthony and Hermione. A frown crossed her petite features as she regarded him. Why the hell would Malfoy be staring at her of all things?! It made no sense. Obviously the bastard must be planning something or her senses were off. It didn’t really matter – she would be on her guard now that she was back at school.
As the meeting drew to a close, she lingered to talk to Jennifer Hill, a Hufflepuff prefect who was helping her with the decorations for this dance on Friday. They made several arrangements for things and a plan for the theme. Once they had finished and cleared the work with Hermione, Jennifer departed to find her own friends and Ginny gathered up several things, cleaning up the car, before heading toward the back of the train to find the Trio and a place to sit.
Draco in the meantime had purposefully waited until everyone had left, hoping to catch the Weaslette in an unguarded moment. No one was around in the corridor between the two train cars. Of course, it was cold, but that didn’t bother Draco in the slightest. His grey eyes narrowed as he watched the last person other than the Weaslette head out.
The next time the door slid open from the prefect car, Ginny slipped out, wrapping her robes around her tightly so they would not get caught in the sliding mechanism. Tucking away a loose strand of hair, she didn’t notice Draco until he stepped out in front of her.
“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Ginny Weasley,” Draco purred, watching brown eyes spark with golden fire of anger. After all these years, she still retained that fire that he had first noticed in side of her in that dingy bookshop. He wondered idly, somewhere in the back of his mind, how hot that fire would burn when put to other uses than anger.
“Get out of my way Draco,” Ginny retorted coldly, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Unafraid, she took a threatening step toward him, intent on getting by.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he murmured in the pleasant drawl, sending ripples of desire down her back. It made her frown deeper, determined not to give in to the attraction, physical only of course, that zinged through her at the sound of his voice. “I promise I am not going to hurt you, I merely wanted to… talk.”
Ginny snorted derisively. “I don’t believe in promises spoken from the lips of a Malfoy,” she stated, putting all the disgust she felt for him – and at herself for finding him even remotely attractive - into the pronunciation of his name. Her hand slid into her pocket and wrapped tightly around her wand – she would use it on him if she had to, but she’d rather just leave without all the fuss. “We have nothing to ‘talk’ about so I suggest you move before I help you out with that.”
Ah, the fire was so amusing to him and it only made him all cooler in response. “Oh but we do have things to talk about,” Draco said with evident amusement. “Arrangements to be made. As a part of fact, you,” and he stressed the word, “have something that I find I need.”
Intrigued in a way that she was not particularly proud of, Ginny grasped her wand tighter in her pocket. “What would that be, Malfoy? Last time I checked the Weasleys had nothing to offer those of you bedecked in green and silver.” The words were sniped off and fired like weapons at the cunning creature blocking her path.
Damn. She was more amusing when wrapped in that fiery indignation that he’d thought. And the way it made her brown eyes snap and pinked her cheeks made her more attractive... Attractive? What the hell was he thinking? She was a thrice-damned Weasel and he would do well to remember it. Brushing aside any lingering desire she might have inspired in him, Draco returned to the conversation. “But you do have something to offer me. Something that is rather important. You can offer me support.” Alright, so it was mostly a lie, but there was a grain of truth in the words that the Slytherin in him did not like to acknowledge.
“Support?” Ginny said coolly, glaring at him.
“Would you care for a definition? I thought you Weasleys were capable of understanding the words spoken to you, though with your meager life, I suppose you cannot afford to know,” Draco said with a smirk.
“Insulting my family, though perhaps you need that word defined considering your own breeding, is not the way to earn ‘support’,” Ginny snarked in return, glowering – though it was not all that effective from her diminutive height. “I know bloody well what the word means, Malfoy. Spit out what you really want.”
“As I said, I want your support,” Draco said smoothly in reply, leaning back against the shifting wall of the train. “Your rather public support as a matter of fact.” He pulled out a galleon and flipped it through his fingers. “You see, I graduate after summer term.”
Ginny snorted in response to his storytelling but he did not speed up his drawling tone or his lazy flipping of the coin. “And once I graduate, I rather find I prefer to be away from the influence of my father.” The words again had that grain of truth that his inner Slytherin shied away from acknowledging. “I need to make sure that my parting from him and the ways he would seek to indoctrinate is complete.” He tapped his forearm to further demonstrate what he meant though Ginny already had formed a clear picture without that. “Contrary to popular opinion, Family is not everything in my world.”
/Well... shit. I wasn’t expecting that./ Her eyebrows raised at his words as she considered what to make of them. Obviously, it was some kind of ploy to win her confidence. But... it couldn’t hurt to go along with him for the time being, could it? /No. I don’t think it can. At the very least, I can report him to Dumbledore./ “Alright, I’m listening.” Her hand continued to tighten on her wand, internal wariness refusing to subside. “What does showing my ‘support’ mean in terms of actions then?”
/Excellent, she’s mine now,/ Draco purred in his internal monologue, pleased with her question as well - showing that she was intelligent enough to follow the logical path. “I want you to be my date for the ball.”
Ginny couldn’t help it; she burst into laughter. The idea of her going to a dance with a Malfoy of all things was hysterically funny. “I’d rather be slow boiled into one of Snape’s potions,” Ginny as she continued to chuckle. “Try again, Malfoy.”
Draco frowned. /Bloody chit doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it,/ Draco growled to himself, unhappier with her words than he was even with her laughter. /Weaslette needs to learn some manners./ He was the point of drawing out his wand and teaching a few of those lessons to her when he remembered the 100 galleons. Taking a deep breath and wrapping himself up in his Slytherin cool pride, he continued his proposition, relaxing his hands. “By simply going with me to the dance and a few turns around the dance floor, word shall filter back to my Father and begin the break between us. After that, you need never speak to me again.”
Her silken red hair brushed against her cheeks as she shook her head, giving a negative answer. “I don’t think so, Malfoy. I’m afraid I’m allergic to the touch of serpents. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time,” Ginny said, amused yet still intrigued somewhere inside of herself in a place she cared not to think of. As she spoke, she moved forward intending to brush past him easily now that he was leaning against the wall of the train.
Draco’s arm blocked her progress. “This discussion isn’t over, Weasley,” his soft but deadly voice hissed into her ear as he leaned toward her, large frame looming over her in a rather menacing fashion. “I need your support.” /Actually I need Parkinson’s 100 galleons, but it’s a good lie./
“When you find a reason why I should make such an effort on your behalf, an effort to do something that will infuriate my family, I will consider listening,” Ginny stated coldly, urging herself not to pay attention to the rapid beating of her heart and the quick skittering of desire along her skin as he closed the distance between them. “Until then, you can take your proposition and shove it.”
This time when she pushed past, he let her go without a word, though touch was another matter entirely. Those long sensitive fingers trailed over her upper chest and across her shoulder and felt the brush of her silken tresses. “Oh, I am sure that I will find a way to make it more than worth your while,” Draco murmured. “Before the end of the week, we shall be whirling around the great hall in one another’s arms.”
Ginny didn’t stop to analyze the riot of emotions and jumble of images those words sent through her. /Merlin, I need my head examined./ Instead, she rushed headlong out of Malfoy’s range, barreling along, heading for the location of the trio.
As she disappeared, Draco looked down at his hand. Though he was pleased with getting in the final word, something had shocked him in that briefest of touches. It had rocked his firmly stacked world, leaving behind gaps and chinks in the careful wall he had built around himself. A frown turned to anger and his hand was brutally shoved into his pocket. It was nothing -- simply his frustration at not getting her willing cooperation. /Time to go and play nice with the kids,/ was his final though as he stalked off, looking for more enjoyable company than the Weaslette.
****
Her legs didn’t stop moving until she reached the compartment where the trio along with Neville and Luna were playing Exploding Snap of all things. Bursting into the compartment, Ginny slid the door shut behind her and leaned against it. As she did so, the others looked up at her as she struggled to regain her breathe.
“What’s wrong, Ginny?” Hermione asked with concern but Ginny only shook her head, refusing to answer. Hermione frowned slightly and everyone else shrugged and returned to their cards as Ginny collapsed into a seat near the window.
Her brown eyes watched the scenery flash by outside as the laughter and joking of the card game commenced. Her mind flicked back over the scene with Draco Malfoy. Something about it puzzled her and yet… deep inside, she was turned on as well. Ginny really didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to be affected by Draco Malfoy, but deep inside, in that part of all of us that is inherently truthful, she knew she had wanted him – if only for a brief instant. It disturbed her because she didn’t trust him. He was a Malfoy after all.
A soft sigh escaped her as she thought about it – gorgeous droolable and oh so desirable Draco Malfoy wanted something from her – and she would never give it to him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Hermione as she sat down next to Ginny.
Ginny started and looked over at the one person she had trusted with all of her secrets – Hermione Granger. A weak smile curved up the corners of Ginny’s lips and then she sighed once more. “Nothing big, Hermione.”
Hermione was smarter than that though. She hadn’t made it through 7 years with Ron and Harry without learning a trick or two – and definitely knowing when someone was lying. “Try that one again, Ginny.”
Her brown eyes flicked to the players loudly shrieking over the exploding pile of cards on the floor and then back to Hermione. “Malfoy happened. He approached me. I insulted him. End of story.”
Hermione’s brown eyes in turn were not quite sure that was the entire truth, but she accepted it. One thing she had learned with Ginny is that you could never force anything from the other girl. She would admit as much as she wanted and that was it. “Okay, but if you need to talk, please let me know.”
“Just don’t tell Ron I had a run in with Malfoy,” Ginny asked. “That would be the last thing I need.”
A frown slipped over Hermione’s classic features as she glanced toward the loud laughing redhead male. Slowly she nodded. “As you wish, Ginny,” Hermione said and the friends lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey to school.
****
Draco had spent his journey to Hogwarts plotting. Crabbe and Goyle had cavorted like overly frisky puppies in the compartment as the stormy grey eyes watched out the window at passing scenery. Nothing registered in his mind as he considered and rejected several ideas for luring the Weasley into his plan.
There had to be something that he had that she would want. Something that would bring her around to his way of thinking and making sure that she went with him. Money, something the Weasels obviously needed, was considered and rejected. His need for money at this point in his life was far greater than hers.
With money rejected as a lure, Draco considered several other things that might be items that would lure her. She hadn’t seemed all that impressed by his physical attributes and the thought of luring her with his body decidedly left him cold regardless. So that was stricken out completely.
Blackmail.
A small grin curved those thin but sensual lips upwards as he considered that lovely little word. It was one worth considering. Perhaps there was something he could use as leverage over her.
The thought of using something against her warmed the cold little corners of his soul. The smirk became even broader as he contemplated the items he may be able to use against her.
As the sky darkened and they headed further and further north, Draco ran through various ideas in his mind. Most were rejected as quickly as they were discovered within the depths of the Slytherin inside of him. Simple was always the best because the more complex a plan was the more things that could go wrong. Something you could never truly disprove once it had been mentioned. And it would be especially good if it upset her family if it were to slip out….
A very nasty little smirk appeared on Draco’s features. It was even nasty enough to make Crabbe and Goyle sit up and take notice. Before the words could come pouring from their mouths, Draco held his hand up. “Don’t ask because I won’t tell brainless apes,” he countered cruelly. The pair merely shrugged and returned to their previous activities.
Oh yes – it was too perfect an idea to pass up and deliciously easy as well. And here the Weaslette was afraid she would get in trouble with her family for dancing with him in a well-lighted and public setting. Imagine what they would do if they thought she had shagged him on the Hogwarts Express immediately following a Prefect’s meeting. Hell, he didn’t even need to say that they had shagged, snogging would be just an effective choice and he didn’t have to imagine shagging a Weasel ─ his whole body recoiled at the thought and his brain needed a good scouring spell. Oh yes, it was perfect down to the last little detail. And if the threat of mentioning time spent alone with him to that ridiculous thing she was related to didn't win him some sort of cooperation, the promise of an ad in the Daily Prophet surely would.
This cheerful little thought filled him with an unaccountable good will as the train chugged into the station in Hogsmeade.
****
Hogsmeade station was all hustle and bustle as the train was emptied of its passengers. Students shouted and gathered and moved slowly from the platform to the waiting carriages as the cry for first years rang out over their heads deafening even over the cacophonous din.
Ginny helped a pair of first year twin girls down carefully and lead them to where they needed to be, next to Hagrid. She spared a brief flash of a smile for him before returning to her duties. Some days, she simply hated being a prefect. Responsibility was really not her forte and she would have preferred to skive off, but being good friends with Hermione meant that skiving was not an option. Running her fingers through her hair and pushing it back carelessly, she looked for the next little lost soul who needed some direction.
"Waiting for Prince Charming Weaslette?" purred the voice just behind her and she knew without even turning who it was. His male scent, strong and powerful like the aura he exuded, washed over her senses and she swayed with it for a moment before getting herself under control.
"Bugger off, Malfoy," she said simply, refusing to even turn and look at him. Her legs moved to carry her away from him, but he was quicker than that. Despite the fact that his father had paid his way on to the team, Draco kept the spot with quick reflexes and a sharp mind. Before she had moved even an inch, his hand had wrapped around her wrist and tugged her toward him.
"Oh, I don't think so, Weaslette," he smirked down at her, meeting those furious brown eyes which demanded her release without a single spoken word. "I need your cooperation and I intend to have it."
"I told you to bugger off, ferret boy," Ginny said, fiery with impatience, eyes shooting sparks at him as her hand moved into the pocket of her robes, "before I give you an even better reason."
Before her hand slid into the pocket entirely, Draco snagged that wrist too and pulled her toward him. "I think not, Weaslette darling, unless you intend for us to be more of a scene than we already are."
It only took Ginny a single glance around to confirm his story and still her struggling against him. "Good girl," he whispered, leaning down so that his voice reached her ears and no one else's.
"I'm not a dog, you bloody git, and tell me what it is you want before I castrate you," Ginny snarled. She hated this feeling of helplessness and longed to pull away, but she knew she didn't have a choice in the matter at the moment.
"I've told you what I want," Draco murmured, wishing that she honestly didn't smell so good. It wasn't sweet and flowery and feminine, it was different than anything he had experienced. The smell was musky and dark and tempted him with thoughts of sex. How he had missed it earlier he had no idea.
"And I told you, no way," Ginny snapped out, temper fraying further with every passing moment spent in his company. His power over her was oppressive and at the same time called to some primal element inside of her. "Now let me go or you won't like the kind of ruckus I choose to create."
"Not yet, Weaslette. I just wanted to make you aware of something before I put my plans in to motion," Draco purred, so pleased with himself for thinking of this. Malfoys always get what they want after all – no matter the methods that they had to resort to. "Just remember, you were alone with me earlier this afternoon and if you decide not to go to this dance with me, I will be more than willing to share that piece of information with Weasel and Potthead along with some nice little embellishments."
The sight of him smirking at her aghast expression caused her to shout, "You wouldn't!"
"Oh yes, Weaslette, I would," Draco said with a wicked grin, underlined with just a hint of malice. "I'll give you until tomorrow evening to decide for certain which route you would care to take." And with that, he used his leverage on her wrists to shove her away from him, and with a slight bow and a mocking smirk, he stalked away from her.
Ginny stood there for a bit longer, her mouth open and her eyes wide with disbelief. This wasn't a tactic she had expected, though with a Malfoy you never truly knew how low they would sink. Gathering her hands into fists of rage, angry that she had let him take advantage of her in that manner, angry that she still felt a low pit of growing desire over it and angry that he had left her with few choices, she stalked off to the carriages.
"Who got her knickers in a twist?" Harry mumbled to Hermione under his breath as Ginny threw herself into the seat across from them just before the carriage started off. Hermione shook her dark head indicating that she didn’t know before Ron blustered out, "Oi Ginners, what's got you so snarly this fine and pleasant evening?"
“Drop dead Ron,” Ginny immediately responded, turning her glare of death on to him.
Ron, having been the recipient of it far too many times to count, merely smirked. “Knickers are most definitely in a twist tonight, Ginners. Better fix that if you are hoping to woo someone with that winning personality,” Ron teased his sister.
“I said, back off!” hissed Ginny, pulling her wand on her brother. She was still fuming over Malfoy’s manhandling and was definitely not in the mood to be annoyed by her overbearing and obnoxious older brother. “And you either do it or Mione finds out a few choice things.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed beet red as Ron’s flushed to match the color of his hair. “Merlin, Ginny, you’re cruel,” he moaned as Harry laughed. “Put the wand away though? You wouldn’t want to harm your favorite brother.”
Ginny snorted but did tuck the wand back into her pocket. “Some days Ron, I think that beating your head against a wall would be rather beneficial so let’s not tempt me.”
“You should just leave her alone anyway, Ron,” Hermione said, the flush in her cheeks cooling off significantly. “I am sure that if it was something truly important, Ginny would share.”
A raised eyebrow from Ginny and a frown from Ron were the only responses to Hermione’s words. Hermione knew from looking at Ginny and Ron’s faces that neither of them believed her words. With a shrug though, her brown eyes met Harry’s tired and old green ones and for once they were dancing with amusement. “I think we all know that Ginny is about as likely to admit to what’s wrong as Fred and George are to gain sainthood,” Harry said with amusement and this time everyone laughed, letting the tenseness in the carriage slip away as it pulled up to the steps at Hogwarts.
Ginny was the first one out, hoping to sidestep her brother because she knew he wouldn’t give up that easily. She was right because he immediately followed her out and grabbed a hold of her wrist, dragging her to the side as Hermione and Harry stepped out. “Ginny,” Ron said in a low voice.
“Honestly, Ron,” Ginny said, exasperation coloring her tone. “If it was worth mentioning, I would. I’m just tired of dealing with firsties already. Now leave me alone.” Wrenching her wrist from his tight grasp, Ginny strode off, leaving the trio behind.
“You’ve got to accept that she’s grown up, Ron,” Hermione said with her arms folded across her chest. Her brown eyes were appraising the redhead and wondering when the hell he would grow up.
Ron rounded on Hermione. “The hell I do. She will always be my baby sister and the hell if I won’t protect her.” Snapping those words off like weapon fire, Ron glared at Hermione, towering over her from his height. Hermione didn’t even think of backing down, she put herself nose to nose with him and glared right back.
“Please,” Harry sighed. “Let’s not start this again. One of these days you will both admit that it is merely foreplay and cease annoying us with the yelling.” And now it was Harry’s turn to sweep off, heading for a meal.
Ron and Hermione continued to stand nose to nose for another long moment as Harry’s words penetrated their brains. Hermione reacted faster though and pulled back as quick as she could manage. “Let’s go see the sorting,” she muttered, embarrassed beyond explanation at the moment. Meekly, Ron followed, Harry’s words echoing over and over again in his mind.
****
Seating herself among the giggling girls in her year, in an effort to stay away from Ron, Ginny pretended to chatter with them as the trio walked by. It wasn't that they weren't nice people, but honestly, Ginny could only tolerate so much of them before she felt like she was going mental.
Turning her mind off to the gossiping, Ginny surveyed the Great Hall. Tables were noticeably emptier than they had been in previous years. Despite Dumbledore’s encouragement, with the increasing Death Eater activity, many parents felt that their children were better off in their own care rather than at Hogwarts. Although the magic protecting the school was ancient and not easily defeated by the Death Eaters, Harry Potter’s attendance at there made it something of a target.
Harry passed behind Ginny, followed by Ron and Hermione who took seats on opposite sides of the table and tried to ignore each other. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione in a questioning manner when the dark haired girl leaned over to look at her. Hermione shook her head in response and Ginny made a mental note to speak to her about it later.
As her gaze left the female part of the trio, McGonagall announced the start of the sorting. Once it had sung its song, speaking further of the need for school unity and aiding each other, the students began to come forward one at a time. Ginny's attention quietly drifted away, again looking across the span of the tables.
When her brown eyes got to the far reaches of the Slytherin table, they collide with startling grey orbs. Startled to see a Slytherin gazing at her, it takes Ginny a moment to realise that it was Draco Malfoy. Not just staring though – he was obviously smirking at her.
Bold as brass, right there in the middle of the Great Hall, he was smirking at her.
Glaring back through narrowed eyes, Ginny coolly planned out his demise in a thoroughly messy and bloody manner. As if he could read her murderous thoughts, Draco smirked even further. It wasn't a pleasant expression but definitely a triumphant one. For a moment, Ginny considered picking up one of the goblets from the table and hurling it at him, but she realised that would only provoke the man further.
Deliberately, she turned her eyes from him and looked toward where the sorting was finishing up. As she did that, her eyes met Hermione's whose gaze was flicking back and forth between Ginny and Draco. Hermione's mouth turned down as she realised who Malfoy was glaring at. She gave Ginny a questioning look but Ginny merely shrugged and focused her attention beyond Hermione.
Pushing back a wild strand of her long brown hair, Hermione glared at Malfoy. The stupid git was up to something and whatever it was it certainly boded ill for all of them. And the way he was looking at Ginny made her skin crawl.
It took only a moment for Draco to realise the mudblood was glaring at him. His cool grey-eyed gaze flicked to her and he sneered. Whatever she thought he was up to didn't matter to him in the slightest. She was bound and determined to think the worst of him, and as long as she stayed out of his way, he didn't give a galleon about what she thought.
Hermione frowned even further. This really did not bode well for the start of the school year. She would make sure that he stayed away from them and, especially, Ginny. And if Ron found out the git was smirking at Ginny…. Hermione shook her head. That could be the epitome of a disaster and Gryffindor would lose more points than they had under Umbridge at this rate. Sighing, knowing she would have to spend the greater portion of this year in keeping Ron away from the Malfoy. Darn it. This was not what she wanted for her final year at Hogwarts.
As the mudblood looked away, Draco pocketed his sneer and his smirk, his countenance slipping into its normal bland mask.
Pansy noticed the change on the other hand and managed to keep her smile of glee to herself. She was certain she would win now. He was as good as hers. Inwardly, she was cackling with glee at her own cleverness. She would have what she wanted as any good Slytherin would – no matter what means she had to employ to get there.
The sorting ended and the meal commenced and things returned to normal with Gryffindors and Slytherins caustically ignoring each other.
“Where is Ron?” Mrs. Weasley snapped at Ginny. “His final year and he’s bound and determined to not spend a minute more there than he has to. And now he is making Harry and Hermione late as well!”
Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother’s outburst, watching the barrier herself with one eye, while the other scanned the platform for anyone she might know.
Mrs. Weasley only had time to tap her foot impatiently and glance at her watch once in the few moments that passed between her appearance with her daughter on the platform and when Ron came bursting through. He was followed by Hermione, Harry and Mr. Weasley, all as equally out of breath. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to scold her youngest son, as well as her husband, but was preempted by her son’s enthusiastic hug.
“Sorry Mum!” Ron said, hugging her briefly and stepping back with a grin. “Better get on the train though – we don’t want to get left behind.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, swallowing the sharp reprimand for once and turning to hug her daughter and then Harry and Hermione. “Take care of yourselves and enjoy yourselves – be young!” she said, sighing as she looking at Ginny and the others. So much had happened in their young lives and there was sure to be more before their lives had finished. Mr. Weasley passed around hugs as well and repeated the warning, especially to his young daughter – the treasure of his heart.
The trio and Ginny quickly moved to the train and boarded it just as the engine began to chug, pulling the cars from the station. They waved to Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley as the train picked up speed and left the station behind completely.
With a sigh, Harry reached out and took the trunks from them. “I’ll find us a seat. Go off to your meeting,” he said in an understated tone. And without another word, he took the handles of the trunks and lugged them toward the back of the train.
Sadly, Hermione and Ron watched him go before the three of them headed from the prefect car. It was hard for them to be without their best friend and Harry had too much on his mind to be left alone. A silent looked passed between them before Ginny sniped, “Are you going to stand there and make goo-goo eyes at each other or are we going to the meeting?”
Hermione flushed and turned around to apologise to Ginny while Ron glared at her. Ginny merely shrugged. “One would think that being Head Girl you would want to be on time.” The statement was innocent enough but it had that sarcastic edge that Ginny wielded most of her words with. Hermione closed her mouth without uttering the apology she had meant to give and turned and started for the prefect car.
Up ahead, in the prefect car itself, Draco was glaring at their new head boy – Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw house. The sneer was carefully refined to the point where it could almost be called a pleasant expression – unless you knew Draco well enough. Pansy Parkinson did.
Arranging her new green robes carefully, she sat down next to Draco and murmured, caustically, “Glaring at him is not going to change the fact that we have a mudblood and a half-blood as head girl and head boy. Both seem to have an imbalanced sense of their own over-achieving worth.”
Draco didn’t even respond to the comment except to nod his head in acknowledgement of her words and presence.
Sighing mentally, Pansy made a show of rearranging her robes to better display herself. Draco’s coolness toward her had ceased to become mildly irritating in the last year and now ran toward a burning anger that she struggled to control around him. His blood wasn’t any better than hers and it was certain that some day they would be a fine match – pure blood servants of the Dark Lord creating more pure descendants for him. A small smile crept on to her face at the delightful thought and then she tucked it away to savour another time.
“So, Draco, darling,” Pansy cooed softly, laying her hand on his strong knee, “How was your summer?”
Draco looked down at the hand with a quiet glare. It would not do to remove the offending appendage, as he knew his parents were fostering an alliance with Pansy’s. It would not do for rumors to go circulating back to his father at this point – not when he was near enough to escape from the clutching grasp. “It was fine, Pansy,” Draco replied coolly, moving his gaze up and over her body, stifling the shudder her slight tendency toward plumpness brought in to his mind. “But I am sure you were quite aware of that before you asked the question.”
Controlling the flush with cool Slytherin pride, Pansy nodded her head. He always made her seem like some kind of gauche little girl instead of the sophisticated woman she tried to be. “I was aware,” Pansy answered with a well-planned toss of her hair. “It was polite of me to ask though. What would have made it more entertaining for you?”
/Someone worth shagging/ Draco thinks with amusement, wondering if he dare shock Pansy with such a statement. Of course, she would only take that as some kind of invitation and he wanted nothing of the sort. “Entertaining company,” Draco finally noted, feeling that was a safe enough answer all things considered.
“You know I am always here for you, darling,” Pansy said smoothly.
“And I prefer not to allow myself the pleasure of your company lest I wear it out,” Draco retorted in that casually cool voice, eyes focusing on the window opposite them and watching the scenery pass.
Pansy’s hand squeezed Draco’s knee. “You should not deprive yourself on my account,” Pansy purred sickeningly. “Perhaps we can make things more interesting with a wager.”
“A wager?” Draco inquired, raising an eyebrow at the blonde next to him. “What did you have in mind, Pansy?” Draco always enjoyed taking money from other people – in fact he often did. It was added to the small fortune from his maternal grandfather that he was amassing in order to aid himself in breaking free of his father to play pro-Quidditch as he wished (his father disparaged it ‘Only Boys do such things. You will be a Man.’) and without the Dark Lord’s brand upon his arm. Besides he was a Malfoy, a Malfoy always got what they wanted – no matter what it cost other people in sacrificies.
“Let me propose this,” Pansy said with a smug smile. She had his interest now. Draco’s enjoyment for money was well known in the Slytherin common room and his luck was amazing. Few would bet with him now, knowing full well that it would mean an empty pocket by the time they were done. “We shall wager than you cannot convince someone, someone I select, to go with you to the dance they are planning for this Friday. If you win and she goes with you, I will pay you 100 galleons. If I win, and she does not go with you, you will dance attendance on me for a month.” Pansy smirked, satisfied with her wager.
“You get to pick?” Draco asked with a single raised eyebrow. Pansy inclined her head in answer and Draco then smirked, figuring he had a way to make it difficult to find someone who wouldn’t be acceptable to him, “Fine. It must be recognizable as female and pureblood.”
Pansy frowned slightly. That immediately ruled out her first choice of that dreadful Granger, but there must be someone just as unlikely to say yes and pureblood. As Pansy struggled to think, running through lineages of families in her mind, the door slid open and Hermione, Ron and Ginny entered. Hermione immediately moved over to talk briefly with Anthony Goldstein as brother and sister sat down and worked on ignoring each other.
The red hair made a prominent impact in Pansy’s Slytherin thinking. /Brilliant. Simply brilliant. It fulfills his requirements and more importantly – mine./ “Alright, Draco darling,” she said softly, leaning toward him to whisper. “I pick the dear, delightful muggle loving little Weaslette.” And she sat back up straight and smoothed her robes feeling quite pleased with herself. /He’s as good as mine./
It was only a cool head that kept Draco from visibly blanching at the suggestion that he take Ginny Weasley to the dance. He looked over at her and managed not to shudder though his face looked like he had sucked on an entire lemon. /Ginny Weasley?! Damn it. I am so screwed, but I need that damn hundred galleons!/ His cool grey eyes raked over her. /At least she is female and not that filthy mudblood Granger. Though she certainly could do better then hanging around with her./ Draco continued to frown and stare at Ginny. “Done. She’ll be coming as my date,” Draco stated in a calm voice, tearing his eyes away from the train wreck he was avoiding and looking at Pansy who smirked with pleasure.
“What do you think crawled up Draco’s bum?” Ron murmured with pleasure in Ginny’s ear, just as Hermione and Anthony were beginning the meeting now that everyone was accounted for. “He looks like he ate all the wrong flavour of Bertie Botts’ Beans.” Ron chortled happily at the mental image. “Serves the stupid git right.”
Ginny made some noise that may have been agreement, before adding, “Well, he is sitting next to Parkinson. She’s not exactly what one would call pleasant company.” Obviously it was enough of a consensus because Ron continued on grinning, pleased with Malfoy’s discomfort and ignoring Ginny’s lack of continued words. /Gits should not be so Merlin all attractive/ Ginny moaned mentally. /What the hell was it with slimy Merlin forsaken Slytherins looking good enough to eat?! I mean really now… how was that fair?/ Shaking out her long mane of red hair, a darker and more intense red than earlier years, Ginny considered him from under her lashes.
His legs were lean and long, sticking out and crossed at the ankles. His blonde hair brushed against his sharp cheekbones and his cool grey eyes were turned away. In contrast to the coolness of his coloring, his lips were warm and red and looked ripe for kissing. His arms were folded across a chest that, while lean, probably hid more muscles than Ginny could catalogue at this distance – not that she would want to of course. Snorting derisively at herself, Ginny turned and focused her gaze on Hermione and Anthony, blocking out Draco “Gorgeous but I’d rather do Neville’s frog” Malfoy.
Meanwhile Draco was taking stock of the Weaslette and completely ignoring whatever the hell it was the mudblood and the half-blood were discussing –it was could wait, for he had far more pressing matters ─100 galleons worth─ to deal with. He needed to get those damn galleons from Parkinson. And that meant making nice with the Weaslette of all things. Draco managed to suppress a rather indelicate shudder at the thought of getting close and being nice to such a … thing.
/Cold and clinical Malfoy, Slytherin pride will get you through this/, he thought as he continued with his appraisal of the Weaslette. The hair was obnoxious and red but he supposed he could overlook that. Her figure at least was delicate, more feminine (if a Weasel could be feminine), than that of her oafish older brother – all ten million of them. After Ron, Draco rather lost count and it certainly didn’t matter. They all answered to Weasel in Draco’s mind. It was hard to tell how shapely she was under that formless robe which hid oversized jeans and a sweater that was obviously a hand me down. Certainly not feminine attire, but perhaps he could do something about that. Her face though was neat and clean and her hands small and slim, he noted to himself. She didn’t seem to be lacking in general hygiene at least so he would be able to at least tolerate being close to her.
As he finished sorting through her assets, or lack there of, the meeting called his attention back as the mudblood seemed to be calling for some sort of discussion and he was sure to be able to get in some sly digs. He might as well as start most of the year off on the right foot.
Ginny could feel her skin pricking. Someone was watching her. Hoping to catch whoever it was in the act, she slowly turned her head in the direction she was being stared at from. She looked just in time to see Draco Malfoy turning his head to pay attention to Anthony and Hermione. A frown crossed her petite features as she regarded him. Why the hell would Malfoy be staring at her of all things?! It made no sense. Obviously the bastard must be planning something or her senses were off. It didn’t really matter – she would be on her guard now that she was back at school.
As the meeting drew to a close, she lingered to talk to Jennifer Hill, a Hufflepuff prefect who was helping her with the decorations for this dance on Friday. They made several arrangements for things and a plan for the theme. Once they had finished and cleared the work with Hermione, Jennifer departed to find her own friends and Ginny gathered up several things, cleaning up the car, before heading toward the back of the train to find the Trio and a place to sit.
Draco in the meantime had purposefully waited until everyone had left, hoping to catch the Weaslette in an unguarded moment. No one was around in the corridor between the two train cars. Of course, it was cold, but that didn’t bother Draco in the slightest. His grey eyes narrowed as he watched the last person other than the Weaslette head out.
The next time the door slid open from the prefect car, Ginny slipped out, wrapping her robes around her tightly so they would not get caught in the sliding mechanism. Tucking away a loose strand of hair, she didn’t notice Draco until he stepped out in front of her.
“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Ginny Weasley,” Draco purred, watching brown eyes spark with golden fire of anger. After all these years, she still retained that fire that he had first noticed in side of her in that dingy bookshop. He wondered idly, somewhere in the back of his mind, how hot that fire would burn when put to other uses than anger.
“Get out of my way Draco,” Ginny retorted coldly, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Unafraid, she took a threatening step toward him, intent on getting by.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he murmured in the pleasant drawl, sending ripples of desire down her back. It made her frown deeper, determined not to give in to the attraction, physical only of course, that zinged through her at the sound of his voice. “I promise I am not going to hurt you, I merely wanted to… talk.”
Ginny snorted derisively. “I don’t believe in promises spoken from the lips of a Malfoy,” she stated, putting all the disgust she felt for him – and at herself for finding him even remotely attractive - into the pronunciation of his name. Her hand slid into her pocket and wrapped tightly around her wand – she would use it on him if she had to, but she’d rather just leave without all the fuss. “We have nothing to ‘talk’ about so I suggest you move before I help you out with that.”
Ah, the fire was so amusing to him and it only made him all cooler in response. “Oh but we do have things to talk about,” Draco said with evident amusement. “Arrangements to be made. As a part of fact, you,” and he stressed the word, “have something that I find I need.”
Intrigued in a way that she was not particularly proud of, Ginny grasped her wand tighter in her pocket. “What would that be, Malfoy? Last time I checked the Weasleys had nothing to offer those of you bedecked in green and silver.” The words were sniped off and fired like weapons at the cunning creature blocking her path.
Damn. She was more amusing when wrapped in that fiery indignation that he’d thought. And the way it made her brown eyes snap and pinked her cheeks made her more attractive... Attractive? What the hell was he thinking? She was a thrice-damned Weasel and he would do well to remember it. Brushing aside any lingering desire she might have inspired in him, Draco returned to the conversation. “But you do have something to offer me. Something that is rather important. You can offer me support.” Alright, so it was mostly a lie, but there was a grain of truth in the words that the Slytherin in him did not like to acknowledge.
“Support?” Ginny said coolly, glaring at him.
“Would you care for a definition? I thought you Weasleys were capable of understanding the words spoken to you, though with your meager life, I suppose you cannot afford to know,” Draco said with a smirk.
“Insulting my family, though perhaps you need that word defined considering your own breeding, is not the way to earn ‘support’,” Ginny snarked in return, glowering – though it was not all that effective from her diminutive height. “I know bloody well what the word means, Malfoy. Spit out what you really want.”
“As I said, I want your support,” Draco said smoothly in reply, leaning back against the shifting wall of the train. “Your rather public support as a matter of fact.” He pulled out a galleon and flipped it through his fingers. “You see, I graduate after summer term.”
Ginny snorted in response to his storytelling but he did not speed up his drawling tone or his lazy flipping of the coin. “And once I graduate, I rather find I prefer to be away from the influence of my father.” The words again had that grain of truth that his inner Slytherin shied away from acknowledging. “I need to make sure that my parting from him and the ways he would seek to indoctrinate is complete.” He tapped his forearm to further demonstrate what he meant though Ginny already had formed a clear picture without that. “Contrary to popular opinion, Family is not everything in my world.”
/Well... shit. I wasn’t expecting that./ Her eyebrows raised at his words as she considered what to make of them. Obviously, it was some kind of ploy to win her confidence. But... it couldn’t hurt to go along with him for the time being, could it? /No. I don’t think it can. At the very least, I can report him to Dumbledore./ “Alright, I’m listening.” Her hand continued to tighten on her wand, internal wariness refusing to subside. “What does showing my ‘support’ mean in terms of actions then?”
/Excellent, she’s mine now,/ Draco purred in his internal monologue, pleased with her question as well - showing that she was intelligent enough to follow the logical path. “I want you to be my date for the ball.”
Ginny couldn’t help it; she burst into laughter. The idea of her going to a dance with a Malfoy of all things was hysterically funny. “I’d rather be slow boiled into one of Snape’s potions,” Ginny as she continued to chuckle. “Try again, Malfoy.”
Draco frowned. /Bloody chit doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it,/ Draco growled to himself, unhappier with her words than he was even with her laughter. /Weaslette needs to learn some manners./ He was the point of drawing out his wand and teaching a few of those lessons to her when he remembered the 100 galleons. Taking a deep breath and wrapping himself up in his Slytherin cool pride, he continued his proposition, relaxing his hands. “By simply going with me to the dance and a few turns around the dance floor, word shall filter back to my Father and begin the break between us. After that, you need never speak to me again.”
Her silken red hair brushed against her cheeks as she shook her head, giving a negative answer. “I don’t think so, Malfoy. I’m afraid I’m allergic to the touch of serpents. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time,” Ginny said, amused yet still intrigued somewhere inside of herself in a place she cared not to think of. As she spoke, she moved forward intending to brush past him easily now that he was leaning against the wall of the train.
Draco’s arm blocked her progress. “This discussion isn’t over, Weasley,” his soft but deadly voice hissed into her ear as he leaned toward her, large frame looming over her in a rather menacing fashion. “I need your support.” /Actually I need Parkinson’s 100 galleons, but it’s a good lie./
“When you find a reason why I should make such an effort on your behalf, an effort to do something that will infuriate my family, I will consider listening,” Ginny stated coldly, urging herself not to pay attention to the rapid beating of her heart and the quick skittering of desire along her skin as he closed the distance between them. “Until then, you can take your proposition and shove it.”
This time when she pushed past, he let her go without a word, though touch was another matter entirely. Those long sensitive fingers trailed over her upper chest and across her shoulder and felt the brush of her silken tresses. “Oh, I am sure that I will find a way to make it more than worth your while,” Draco murmured. “Before the end of the week, we shall be whirling around the great hall in one another’s arms.”
Ginny didn’t stop to analyze the riot of emotions and jumble of images those words sent through her. /Merlin, I need my head examined./ Instead, she rushed headlong out of Malfoy’s range, barreling along, heading for the location of the trio.
As she disappeared, Draco looked down at his hand. Though he was pleased with getting in the final word, something had shocked him in that briefest of touches. It had rocked his firmly stacked world, leaving behind gaps and chinks in the careful wall he had built around himself. A frown turned to anger and his hand was brutally shoved into his pocket. It was nothing -- simply his frustration at not getting her willing cooperation. /Time to go and play nice with the kids,/ was his final though as he stalked off, looking for more enjoyable company than the Weaslette.
****
Her legs didn’t stop moving until she reached the compartment where the trio along with Neville and Luna were playing Exploding Snap of all things. Bursting into the compartment, Ginny slid the door shut behind her and leaned against it. As she did so, the others looked up at her as she struggled to regain her breathe.
“What’s wrong, Ginny?” Hermione asked with concern but Ginny only shook her head, refusing to answer. Hermione frowned slightly and everyone else shrugged and returned to their cards as Ginny collapsed into a seat near the window.
Her brown eyes watched the scenery flash by outside as the laughter and joking of the card game commenced. Her mind flicked back over the scene with Draco Malfoy. Something about it puzzled her and yet… deep inside, she was turned on as well. Ginny really didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to be affected by Draco Malfoy, but deep inside, in that part of all of us that is inherently truthful, she knew she had wanted him – if only for a brief instant. It disturbed her because she didn’t trust him. He was a Malfoy after all.
A soft sigh escaped her as she thought about it – gorgeous droolable and oh so desirable Draco Malfoy wanted something from her – and she would never give it to him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Hermione as she sat down next to Ginny.
Ginny started and looked over at the one person she had trusted with all of her secrets – Hermione Granger. A weak smile curved up the corners of Ginny’s lips and then she sighed once more. “Nothing big, Hermione.”
Hermione was smarter than that though. She hadn’t made it through 7 years with Ron and Harry without learning a trick or two – and definitely knowing when someone was lying. “Try that one again, Ginny.”
Her brown eyes flicked to the players loudly shrieking over the exploding pile of cards on the floor and then back to Hermione. “Malfoy happened. He approached me. I insulted him. End of story.”
Hermione’s brown eyes in turn were not quite sure that was the entire truth, but she accepted it. One thing she had learned with Ginny is that you could never force anything from the other girl. She would admit as much as she wanted and that was it. “Okay, but if you need to talk, please let me know.”
“Just don’t tell Ron I had a run in with Malfoy,” Ginny asked. “That would be the last thing I need.”
A frown slipped over Hermione’s classic features as she glanced toward the loud laughing redhead male. Slowly she nodded. “As you wish, Ginny,” Hermione said and the friends lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey to school.
****
Draco had spent his journey to Hogwarts plotting. Crabbe and Goyle had cavorted like overly frisky puppies in the compartment as the stormy grey eyes watched out the window at passing scenery. Nothing registered in his mind as he considered and rejected several ideas for luring the Weasley into his plan.
There had to be something that he had that she would want. Something that would bring her around to his way of thinking and making sure that she went with him. Money, something the Weasels obviously needed, was considered and rejected. His need for money at this point in his life was far greater than hers.
With money rejected as a lure, Draco considered several other things that might be items that would lure her. She hadn’t seemed all that impressed by his physical attributes and the thought of luring her with his body decidedly left him cold regardless. So that was stricken out completely.
Blackmail.
A small grin curved those thin but sensual lips upwards as he considered that lovely little word. It was one worth considering. Perhaps there was something he could use as leverage over her.
The thought of using something against her warmed the cold little corners of his soul. The smirk became even broader as he contemplated the items he may be able to use against her.
As the sky darkened and they headed further and further north, Draco ran through various ideas in his mind. Most were rejected as quickly as they were discovered within the depths of the Slytherin inside of him. Simple was always the best because the more complex a plan was the more things that could go wrong. Something you could never truly disprove once it had been mentioned. And it would be especially good if it upset her family if it were to slip out….
A very nasty little smirk appeared on Draco’s features. It was even nasty enough to make Crabbe and Goyle sit up and take notice. Before the words could come pouring from their mouths, Draco held his hand up. “Don’t ask because I won’t tell brainless apes,” he countered cruelly. The pair merely shrugged and returned to their previous activities.
Oh yes – it was too perfect an idea to pass up and deliciously easy as well. And here the Weaslette was afraid she would get in trouble with her family for dancing with him in a well-lighted and public setting. Imagine what they would do if they thought she had shagged him on the Hogwarts Express immediately following a Prefect’s meeting. Hell, he didn’t even need to say that they had shagged, snogging would be just an effective choice and he didn’t have to imagine shagging a Weasel ─ his whole body recoiled at the thought and his brain needed a good scouring spell. Oh yes, it was perfect down to the last little detail. And if the threat of mentioning time spent alone with him to that ridiculous thing she was related to didn't win him some sort of cooperation, the promise of an ad in the Daily Prophet surely would.
This cheerful little thought filled him with an unaccountable good will as the train chugged into the station in Hogsmeade.
****
Hogsmeade station was all hustle and bustle as the train was emptied of its passengers. Students shouted and gathered and moved slowly from the platform to the waiting carriages as the cry for first years rang out over their heads deafening even over the cacophonous din.
Ginny helped a pair of first year twin girls down carefully and lead them to where they needed to be, next to Hagrid. She spared a brief flash of a smile for him before returning to her duties. Some days, she simply hated being a prefect. Responsibility was really not her forte and she would have preferred to skive off, but being good friends with Hermione meant that skiving was not an option. Running her fingers through her hair and pushing it back carelessly, she looked for the next little lost soul who needed some direction.
"Waiting for Prince Charming Weaslette?" purred the voice just behind her and she knew without even turning who it was. His male scent, strong and powerful like the aura he exuded, washed over her senses and she swayed with it for a moment before getting herself under control.
"Bugger off, Malfoy," she said simply, refusing to even turn and look at him. Her legs moved to carry her away from him, but he was quicker than that. Despite the fact that his father had paid his way on to the team, Draco kept the spot with quick reflexes and a sharp mind. Before she had moved even an inch, his hand had wrapped around her wrist and tugged her toward him.
"Oh, I don't think so, Weaslette," he smirked down at her, meeting those furious brown eyes which demanded her release without a single spoken word. "I need your cooperation and I intend to have it."
"I told you to bugger off, ferret boy," Ginny said, fiery with impatience, eyes shooting sparks at him as her hand moved into the pocket of her robes, "before I give you an even better reason."
Before her hand slid into the pocket entirely, Draco snagged that wrist too and pulled her toward him. "I think not, Weaslette darling, unless you intend for us to be more of a scene than we already are."
It only took Ginny a single glance around to confirm his story and still her struggling against him. "Good girl," he whispered, leaning down so that his voice reached her ears and no one else's.
"I'm not a dog, you bloody git, and tell me what it is you want before I castrate you," Ginny snarled. She hated this feeling of helplessness and longed to pull away, but she knew she didn't have a choice in the matter at the moment.
"I've told you what I want," Draco murmured, wishing that she honestly didn't smell so good. It wasn't sweet and flowery and feminine, it was different than anything he had experienced. The smell was musky and dark and tempted him with thoughts of sex. How he had missed it earlier he had no idea.
"And I told you, no way," Ginny snapped out, temper fraying further with every passing moment spent in his company. His power over her was oppressive and at the same time called to some primal element inside of her. "Now let me go or you won't like the kind of ruckus I choose to create."
"Not yet, Weaslette. I just wanted to make you aware of something before I put my plans in to motion," Draco purred, so pleased with himself for thinking of this. Malfoys always get what they want after all – no matter the methods that they had to resort to. "Just remember, you were alone with me earlier this afternoon and if you decide not to go to this dance with me, I will be more than willing to share that piece of information with Weasel and Potthead along with some nice little embellishments."
The sight of him smirking at her aghast expression caused her to shout, "You wouldn't!"
"Oh yes, Weaslette, I would," Draco said with a wicked grin, underlined with just a hint of malice. "I'll give you until tomorrow evening to decide for certain which route you would care to take." And with that, he used his leverage on her wrists to shove her away from him, and with a slight bow and a mocking smirk, he stalked away from her.
Ginny stood there for a bit longer, her mouth open and her eyes wide with disbelief. This wasn't a tactic she had expected, though with a Malfoy you never truly knew how low they would sink. Gathering her hands into fists of rage, angry that she had let him take advantage of her in that manner, angry that she still felt a low pit of growing desire over it and angry that he had left her with few choices, she stalked off to the carriages.
"Who got her knickers in a twist?" Harry mumbled to Hermione under his breath as Ginny threw herself into the seat across from them just before the carriage started off. Hermione shook her dark head indicating that she didn’t know before Ron blustered out, "Oi Ginners, what's got you so snarly this fine and pleasant evening?"
“Drop dead Ron,” Ginny immediately responded, turning her glare of death on to him.
Ron, having been the recipient of it far too many times to count, merely smirked. “Knickers are most definitely in a twist tonight, Ginners. Better fix that if you are hoping to woo someone with that winning personality,” Ron teased his sister.
“I said, back off!” hissed Ginny, pulling her wand on her brother. She was still fuming over Malfoy’s manhandling and was definitely not in the mood to be annoyed by her overbearing and obnoxious older brother. “And you either do it or Mione finds out a few choice things.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed beet red as Ron’s flushed to match the color of his hair. “Merlin, Ginny, you’re cruel,” he moaned as Harry laughed. “Put the wand away though? You wouldn’t want to harm your favorite brother.”
Ginny snorted but did tuck the wand back into her pocket. “Some days Ron, I think that beating your head against a wall would be rather beneficial so let’s not tempt me.”
“You should just leave her alone anyway, Ron,” Hermione said, the flush in her cheeks cooling off significantly. “I am sure that if it was something truly important, Ginny would share.”
A raised eyebrow from Ginny and a frown from Ron were the only responses to Hermione’s words. Hermione knew from looking at Ginny and Ron’s faces that neither of them believed her words. With a shrug though, her brown eyes met Harry’s tired and old green ones and for once they were dancing with amusement. “I think we all know that Ginny is about as likely to admit to what’s wrong as Fred and George are to gain sainthood,” Harry said with amusement and this time everyone laughed, letting the tenseness in the carriage slip away as it pulled up to the steps at Hogwarts.
Ginny was the first one out, hoping to sidestep her brother because she knew he wouldn’t give up that easily. She was right because he immediately followed her out and grabbed a hold of her wrist, dragging her to the side as Hermione and Harry stepped out. “Ginny,” Ron said in a low voice.
“Honestly, Ron,” Ginny said, exasperation coloring her tone. “If it was worth mentioning, I would. I’m just tired of dealing with firsties already. Now leave me alone.” Wrenching her wrist from his tight grasp, Ginny strode off, leaving the trio behind.
“You’ve got to accept that she’s grown up, Ron,” Hermione said with her arms folded across her chest. Her brown eyes were appraising the redhead and wondering when the hell he would grow up.
Ron rounded on Hermione. “The hell I do. She will always be my baby sister and the hell if I won’t protect her.” Snapping those words off like weapon fire, Ron glared at Hermione, towering over her from his height. Hermione didn’t even think of backing down, she put herself nose to nose with him and glared right back.
“Please,” Harry sighed. “Let’s not start this again. One of these days you will both admit that it is merely foreplay and cease annoying us with the yelling.” And now it was Harry’s turn to sweep off, heading for a meal.
Ron and Hermione continued to stand nose to nose for another long moment as Harry’s words penetrated their brains. Hermione reacted faster though and pulled back as quick as she could manage. “Let’s go see the sorting,” she muttered, embarrassed beyond explanation at the moment. Meekly, Ron followed, Harry’s words echoing over and over again in his mind.
****
Seating herself among the giggling girls in her year, in an effort to stay away from Ron, Ginny pretended to chatter with them as the trio walked by. It wasn't that they weren't nice people, but honestly, Ginny could only tolerate so much of them before she felt like she was going mental.
Turning her mind off to the gossiping, Ginny surveyed the Great Hall. Tables were noticeably emptier than they had been in previous years. Despite Dumbledore’s encouragement, with the increasing Death Eater activity, many parents felt that their children were better off in their own care rather than at Hogwarts. Although the magic protecting the school was ancient and not easily defeated by the Death Eaters, Harry Potter’s attendance at there made it something of a target.
Harry passed behind Ginny, followed by Ron and Hermione who took seats on opposite sides of the table and tried to ignore each other. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione in a questioning manner when the dark haired girl leaned over to look at her. Hermione shook her head in response and Ginny made a mental note to speak to her about it later.
As her gaze left the female part of the trio, McGonagall announced the start of the sorting. Once it had sung its song, speaking further of the need for school unity and aiding each other, the students began to come forward one at a time. Ginny's attention quietly drifted away, again looking across the span of the tables.
When her brown eyes got to the far reaches of the Slytherin table, they collide with startling grey orbs. Startled to see a Slytherin gazing at her, it takes Ginny a moment to realise that it was Draco Malfoy. Not just staring though – he was obviously smirking at her.
Bold as brass, right there in the middle of the Great Hall, he was smirking at her.
Glaring back through narrowed eyes, Ginny coolly planned out his demise in a thoroughly messy and bloody manner. As if he could read her murderous thoughts, Draco smirked even further. It wasn't a pleasant expression but definitely a triumphant one. For a moment, Ginny considered picking up one of the goblets from the table and hurling it at him, but she realised that would only provoke the man further.
Deliberately, she turned her eyes from him and looked toward where the sorting was finishing up. As she did that, her eyes met Hermione's whose gaze was flicking back and forth between Ginny and Draco. Hermione's mouth turned down as she realised who Malfoy was glaring at. She gave Ginny a questioning look but Ginny merely shrugged and focused her attention beyond Hermione.
Pushing back a wild strand of her long brown hair, Hermione glared at Malfoy. The stupid git was up to something and whatever it was it certainly boded ill for all of them. And the way he was looking at Ginny made her skin crawl.
It took only a moment for Draco to realise the mudblood was glaring at him. His cool grey-eyed gaze flicked to her and he sneered. Whatever she thought he was up to didn't matter to him in the slightest. She was bound and determined to think the worst of him, and as long as she stayed out of his way, he didn't give a galleon about what she thought.
Hermione frowned even further. This really did not bode well for the start of the school year. She would make sure that he stayed away from them and, especially, Ginny. And if Ron found out the git was smirking at Ginny…. Hermione shook her head. That could be the epitome of a disaster and Gryffindor would lose more points than they had under Umbridge at this rate. Sighing, knowing she would have to spend the greater portion of this year in keeping Ron away from the Malfoy. Darn it. This was not what she wanted for her final year at Hogwarts.
As the mudblood looked away, Draco pocketed his sneer and his smirk, his countenance slipping into its normal bland mask.
Pansy noticed the change on the other hand and managed to keep her smile of glee to herself. She was certain she would win now. He was as good as hers. Inwardly, she was cackling with glee at her own cleverness. She would have what she wanted as any good Slytherin would – no matter what means she had to employ to get there.
The sorting ended and the meal commenced and things returned to normal with Gryffindors and Slytherins caustically ignoring each other.
To Be Continued.
Rhina is the author of 4 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 1 members. Members who liked Guys and Dolls also liked 110 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 1 members. Members who liked Guys and Dolls also liked 110 other stories.
Leave a Review