Ginny opened her eyes groggily to the sound of movement in her room, causing the original state of sleepiness to edge away quickly, overcoming her with panic. Her hand outstretched to the nightstand and she grabbed her wand rapidly, not as if it would do any good; she was simply too tired to concentrate on what spells she was allowed to use now that she was an instructor. But she tightened her grip around the piece of wood anyway, daring her eyes to inspect the room for her intruder.
A young girl, maybe only nineteen, was standing near the armoire. Her back was to Ginny and she was busily shifting through the layers of green fabric hanging within. She was a rather frail woman, since Ginny could see most of the armoire around her, not the typical body persona of one who would be breaking in. Ginny sat up and stared at her more perceptively, taking in the girl’s mop of curly black hair and ghost white skin. When she finally turned around, Ginny was met with a pair of emerald eyes before a small gasp emitted the girl’s ruby red lips, making Ginny jump.
“Quite sorry Missus, but I hadn’t known you had woke up yet,” the girl spoke with a heavy southern accent, one Ginny was sure she had never heard before. She was now fanning herself lightly with her left hand, “Are you gunna sit around all day Missus? I dun think that the Mistress wants a late nanny, no sir.”
“I’m not a nanny,” Ginny spoke.
“Of course not Missus, I didn’t mean that. Clumsy of me I reckon,” the girl spoke again, pressing a folded dress into Ginny’s lap, patting the fabric lightly, “Now you best go dress, breakfast isn’t a necessary occasion but it would be best if you showed up,” she hustled towards the door.
“Wait, who are you?” Ginny asked.
“Missus, not to insult you or nuffin, but us maids aren’t supposed to be on namely basis with anyone’s,” Ginny stood awkwardly, still adorned in her periwinkle nightdress, and walked towards her, extending her right hand to the girl. She must have looked a right mess, standing in her nightclothes without slippers on or her hair brushed and her wand in one hand, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“I’m Ginny.”
The girl stared at her for a few minutes, as if she were trying to digest her hand into some sort of meaning, before grabbing it with her own and shaking it roughly, “I’m Maryanne Missus. Now I must be goin…I will see you later today,” she was out of the door before Ginny could say another word, so she turned back towards her unmade bed and the green silk lying on top of it.
Ginny moved quickly through the halls of Malfoy Manor, her dress moving swiftly around her ankles in almost silent snaps with her pace. She was late again, not exactly what she had hoped for on the first day of her job, but none-the-less she had determined the quickest route to the drawing room (having found it the day before) where she would give Draco his first lesson.
Pushing the door back, she took in the white walls of the room. The normal easels and painting supplies had been pushed back into one corner; the center of the room now exposed to just a single blackboard, a set of tinker toys, and two chairs. A small heap of parchment paper and a few ink bottles and quills sat in a box near the chalkboard. It was the first room that Ginny noticed to have a window, casting a bright golden yellow glow onto her teaching supplies.
“You ready to start this yet Weasel? I really don’t have all day, and moreover I reckon spending time with you isn’t exactly going to appeal to my schedule,” a voice called behind her, making ripples run up the back of her spine and her temper to grow. Draco moved around her and stepped towards one of the chairs, sinking into it haughtily and smirking at her.
“The name is Ms. Weasley to you Malfoy,” she spat, taking the chair across from him.
“Not a chance Weasel.”
“How am I supposed to teach you if you won’t even treat me like a true teacher?” she spat again, picking up a quill, a piece of parchment, and a bottle of ink.
“Beats me, I don’t know why you applied for this goddamned position anyway.”
“I didn’t know I would be teaching a bloody prat like you,” she scolded, roughly pushing the supplies into his hands, “But since I have to, we might as well just go to work. Write down what exactly you are having trouble with, I don’t want to waste my time either,” he scowled at her, just slightly, before opening the bottle of ink and writing. After just a second he shoved the parchment back to her.
The fact that I actually have to spend my summer holiday with a bothersome little wench like you.
She wanted to scream, but didn’t, as he began to laugh wickedly, an action not even to be called a laugh since it seemed to hold no humorous emotion. He hadn’t seen her pull her wand from her pocket, or point it at the bottle of ink, or say the soft incantation that made the ink bottle float easily through the air, moving swiftly above Draco’s head.
“Malfoy?” she called and he looked towards her, at the wand that was now pointing at him. She flicked the tip just lightly and the entire bottle came crashing down on top of him, ebony ink spilling over his white blonde hair and settling against his skin.
“Argh! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing Weasel!” he shouted, jumping up in an attempt to brush the ink off him, only causing it to settle into his robes, which were once a dazzling midnight blue color.
“That is where we can start…cleaning charms,” she spoke, “They are a necessity in almost every household and provide quick clean up in almost any situation. Of course, if you don’t want to actually learn, then you could walk around like that all day. Believe me; it won’t come off with just water and soap,” she chuckled. Two could play his games.
“FINE,” he screamed, sitting himself again. Ginny stood and moved towards the blackboard, scribbling the word ‘Scourgify’ in perfect loopy letters. Next to it, she drew the shape of an upside down cursive L, drawing arrows along its points. Draco remained quiet save for a few grumbles here and there as he picked at his stained clothing.
“Right. This is the cleaning charm, its pretty simple actually, you just say it as you do the movement I exampled on the board,” Ginny stated, “You finish it off by pointing at the object that you want to clean. Your lovely hair is a perfect example Malfoy, although personally, I’d leave it that shade. It suits you,” she giggled just slightly. He only just reacted to her, his cheeks turning purplish again, as he pointed his wand at himself and moved it as she had spoken, before muttering the words under his breath. His hair moved just slightly, became a sickening gray color, and then laid flat against his head again. His robes were now the color of his hair, with slight chunks of remaining midnight blue.
“Try harder Malfoy,” she coaxed.
“You should teach better,” he scowled.
“It isn’t my problem that you never paid an ounce of attention in your six years at Hogwarts,” she responded barely, making it seem as if she didn’t care.
“It also isn’t my fault that you are so poor you need to tutor students for a simple Knut,” he scowled again. In a second she was at his side, her wand pointed at his hair.
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” she hissed, “Or that ghastly colored hair of yours won’t be your only worry,” she turned defiantly and began to whisper things about the cleaning charm, hoping he was paying attention, unaware of his eyes that were lingering on her. He was staring at her, at her bright red hair with shades of auburn reflecting from the sun. Her eyes, the color of the coffee his mother drank daily, were rummaging through things and yet refusing to meet his eye. There was something about her, he thought, something she kept from most people. She didn’t falter at his crudeness, but instead lashed out at him equally as cruel, a temper he rarely had seen at Hogwarts. In fact, she had been quite the shrew at Hogwarts. What had changed?
“You have quite a temper Weasel,” he whispered, in an almost inaudible tone. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing about him in an attempt to understand what exactly he expected from her after that commentary.
“I suppose you could say that,” she whispered back, “Can we please just finish this lesson?”
Ginny trudged through the tall grass. The blades were nipping at her ankles as she brushed along, entangling herself in a sea of tulips, lilies, and daffodils. She fell backwards onto her back, taking in the syrupy scent of the flowers surrounding her. The ground was cool for a June afternoon and from her view she could just make out the jumbled shapes of cotton ball clouds in the effervescent blue sky. The courtyard she had resided herself to was larger than any she had ever seen. In the center sat a small crystalline lake, whose water rippled just slightly despite the lack of any wind. A tree sat just inches from her; a long wooden swing hanging from one of its many branches.
“You are going to ruin that dress if you lay like that Weasel,” an edgy and raspy voice called from behind her. She refused to look back, to look and see who was calling to her, and instead settled on staring at the sky. She could feel his presence drawing nearer, his footsteps moving closer to her left side. He was standing above her now, his finally clean blonde hair blocking every view of the sky and casting an annoying sun kissed glare into her eyes.
“Care to move?” she voiced.
“No,” was all he said, as he extended a hand. She looked up at him, quite puzzled, “I had to pay for part of that uniform you are wearing. It’s bad enough that a Weasel is contaminating it, but Merlin knows you couldn’t afford to buy another one even if you tried.”
“I am not a dirty person Malfoy,” she spat angrily.
“You are a Weasley though,” he whispered. It would appear he had grown tired of standing over her, for he now took a seat in the grass next to her, plucking a pale ginger tulip and bringing it to his nose, “Mmm, the sweet smell of tulips. Not even you can ruin this sort of day Weasel.”
“How touching, the ice block actually has a heart,” she pursed her lips, staring at him intently.
“Malfoy’s don’t have hearts,” he said indifferently, tossing the tulip aside.
“Why did you come out here Malfoy? I was perfectly fine sitting alone.”
“I have nothing else to do,” he stated glumly. She stifled a laugh to the best of her ability, the color in her cheeks noticeably rising, “What Weasel?”
“I have never heard of a Malfoy who would rather spend time talking to a Weasley then finding something to do,” she spoke in short breaths to keep from laughing out loud.
“Yes well…” he started but stopped at the realization of having nothing to say. He twirled his fingers in the grass, plucking a few pieces and tossing them different ways. His mind seemed to be searching for something and Ginny couldn’t help but think that he looked…cute? She couldn’t say that, he was a Malfoy after all and the only person besides his father that she had grown to despise in her entire life, “Did you hear me Weasel?” he had obviously said something as she had been thinking, and she shook her head in response, “Figures, mother was right when she said you were all inattentive,” he sneered.
“Must you always berate my family Malfoy?” she spoke, thoroughly annoyed with him.
“I think…” he stopped, as if contemplating something, before his mouth broke into a rather large, dumpy grin, “yes I think I do.”
“Well okay, as long as it is justified,” she spoke indignantly, brushing a lone hair out of her face.
“What…no retort? No comeback? Come on Weasley, I thought we were getting better at this game,”
“No…you aren’t worth it,” she stated simply, “You will always berate my family, you will always think you are better than everyone else, and you will always think that you know everything about everyone when in reality, you haven’t got a clue. I will always have no respect for your lousy miniature self, so why bother with protesting?”
“Miniature?” he asked, unsure of her meaning.
“Yes miniature,” she huffed, her face turning a light rosy color in the heat that was slowly accumulating, “At least I am my own person Malfoy. At least in my family, people are expected to be individuals, not carbon copies. You are nothing more than a sorry excuse for a replica of the most despicable man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” she spoke heatedly, before standing and smoothing out her dress, “Goodbye Lucius,” her voice was flat, without very much context at all, but the meaning behind her heart-piercing words was quite evident. She took off towards the door to the courtyard, her red hair swinging against the nape of her neck.
She hadn’t seen it, her back to him, but his knuckles, gripping the blades of grass near him, were now sheet white. His gray eyes had lost their shimmer, and his mouth was pinned in a straight line.
“I am…” he started, breathily and stony,
“Nothing…”
“like…”
“that…”
“Bastard…”
A young girl, maybe only nineteen, was standing near the armoire. Her back was to Ginny and she was busily shifting through the layers of green fabric hanging within. She was a rather frail woman, since Ginny could see most of the armoire around her, not the typical body persona of one who would be breaking in. Ginny sat up and stared at her more perceptively, taking in the girl’s mop of curly black hair and ghost white skin. When she finally turned around, Ginny was met with a pair of emerald eyes before a small gasp emitted the girl’s ruby red lips, making Ginny jump.
“Quite sorry Missus, but I hadn’t known you had woke up yet,” the girl spoke with a heavy southern accent, one Ginny was sure she had never heard before. She was now fanning herself lightly with her left hand, “Are you gunna sit around all day Missus? I dun think that the Mistress wants a late nanny, no sir.”
“I’m not a nanny,” Ginny spoke.
“Of course not Missus, I didn’t mean that. Clumsy of me I reckon,” the girl spoke again, pressing a folded dress into Ginny’s lap, patting the fabric lightly, “Now you best go dress, breakfast isn’t a necessary occasion but it would be best if you showed up,” she hustled towards the door.
“Wait, who are you?” Ginny asked.
“Missus, not to insult you or nuffin, but us maids aren’t supposed to be on namely basis with anyone’s,” Ginny stood awkwardly, still adorned in her periwinkle nightdress, and walked towards her, extending her right hand to the girl. She must have looked a right mess, standing in her nightclothes without slippers on or her hair brushed and her wand in one hand, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“I’m Ginny.”
The girl stared at her for a few minutes, as if she were trying to digest her hand into some sort of meaning, before grabbing it with her own and shaking it roughly, “I’m Maryanne Missus. Now I must be goin…I will see you later today,” she was out of the door before Ginny could say another word, so she turned back towards her unmade bed and the green silk lying on top of it.
Ginny moved quickly through the halls of Malfoy Manor, her dress moving swiftly around her ankles in almost silent snaps with her pace. She was late again, not exactly what she had hoped for on the first day of her job, but none-the-less she had determined the quickest route to the drawing room (having found it the day before) where she would give Draco his first lesson.
Pushing the door back, she took in the white walls of the room. The normal easels and painting supplies had been pushed back into one corner; the center of the room now exposed to just a single blackboard, a set of tinker toys, and two chairs. A small heap of parchment paper and a few ink bottles and quills sat in a box near the chalkboard. It was the first room that Ginny noticed to have a window, casting a bright golden yellow glow onto her teaching supplies.
“You ready to start this yet Weasel? I really don’t have all day, and moreover I reckon spending time with you isn’t exactly going to appeal to my schedule,” a voice called behind her, making ripples run up the back of her spine and her temper to grow. Draco moved around her and stepped towards one of the chairs, sinking into it haughtily and smirking at her.
“The name is Ms. Weasley to you Malfoy,” she spat, taking the chair across from him.
“Not a chance Weasel.”
“How am I supposed to teach you if you won’t even treat me like a true teacher?” she spat again, picking up a quill, a piece of parchment, and a bottle of ink.
“Beats me, I don’t know why you applied for this goddamned position anyway.”
“I didn’t know I would be teaching a bloody prat like you,” she scolded, roughly pushing the supplies into his hands, “But since I have to, we might as well just go to work. Write down what exactly you are having trouble with, I don’t want to waste my time either,” he scowled at her, just slightly, before opening the bottle of ink and writing. After just a second he shoved the parchment back to her.
The fact that I actually have to spend my summer holiday with a bothersome little wench like you.
She wanted to scream, but didn’t, as he began to laugh wickedly, an action not even to be called a laugh since it seemed to hold no humorous emotion. He hadn’t seen her pull her wand from her pocket, or point it at the bottle of ink, or say the soft incantation that made the ink bottle float easily through the air, moving swiftly above Draco’s head.
“Malfoy?” she called and he looked towards her, at the wand that was now pointing at him. She flicked the tip just lightly and the entire bottle came crashing down on top of him, ebony ink spilling over his white blonde hair and settling against his skin.
“Argh! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing Weasel!” he shouted, jumping up in an attempt to brush the ink off him, only causing it to settle into his robes, which were once a dazzling midnight blue color.
“That is where we can start…cleaning charms,” she spoke, “They are a necessity in almost every household and provide quick clean up in almost any situation. Of course, if you don’t want to actually learn, then you could walk around like that all day. Believe me; it won’t come off with just water and soap,” she chuckled. Two could play his games.
“FINE,” he screamed, sitting himself again. Ginny stood and moved towards the blackboard, scribbling the word ‘Scourgify’ in perfect loopy letters. Next to it, she drew the shape of an upside down cursive L, drawing arrows along its points. Draco remained quiet save for a few grumbles here and there as he picked at his stained clothing.
“Right. This is the cleaning charm, its pretty simple actually, you just say it as you do the movement I exampled on the board,” Ginny stated, “You finish it off by pointing at the object that you want to clean. Your lovely hair is a perfect example Malfoy, although personally, I’d leave it that shade. It suits you,” she giggled just slightly. He only just reacted to her, his cheeks turning purplish again, as he pointed his wand at himself and moved it as she had spoken, before muttering the words under his breath. His hair moved just slightly, became a sickening gray color, and then laid flat against his head again. His robes were now the color of his hair, with slight chunks of remaining midnight blue.
“Try harder Malfoy,” she coaxed.
“You should teach better,” he scowled.
“It isn’t my problem that you never paid an ounce of attention in your six years at Hogwarts,” she responded barely, making it seem as if she didn’t care.
“It also isn’t my fault that you are so poor you need to tutor students for a simple Knut,” he scowled again. In a second she was at his side, her wand pointed at his hair.
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” she hissed, “Or that ghastly colored hair of yours won’t be your only worry,” she turned defiantly and began to whisper things about the cleaning charm, hoping he was paying attention, unaware of his eyes that were lingering on her. He was staring at her, at her bright red hair with shades of auburn reflecting from the sun. Her eyes, the color of the coffee his mother drank daily, were rummaging through things and yet refusing to meet his eye. There was something about her, he thought, something she kept from most people. She didn’t falter at his crudeness, but instead lashed out at him equally as cruel, a temper he rarely had seen at Hogwarts. In fact, she had been quite the shrew at Hogwarts. What had changed?
“You have quite a temper Weasel,” he whispered, in an almost inaudible tone. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing about him in an attempt to understand what exactly he expected from her after that commentary.
“I suppose you could say that,” she whispered back, “Can we please just finish this lesson?”
Ginny trudged through the tall grass. The blades were nipping at her ankles as she brushed along, entangling herself in a sea of tulips, lilies, and daffodils. She fell backwards onto her back, taking in the syrupy scent of the flowers surrounding her. The ground was cool for a June afternoon and from her view she could just make out the jumbled shapes of cotton ball clouds in the effervescent blue sky. The courtyard she had resided herself to was larger than any she had ever seen. In the center sat a small crystalline lake, whose water rippled just slightly despite the lack of any wind. A tree sat just inches from her; a long wooden swing hanging from one of its many branches.
“You are going to ruin that dress if you lay like that Weasel,” an edgy and raspy voice called from behind her. She refused to look back, to look and see who was calling to her, and instead settled on staring at the sky. She could feel his presence drawing nearer, his footsteps moving closer to her left side. He was standing above her now, his finally clean blonde hair blocking every view of the sky and casting an annoying sun kissed glare into her eyes.
“Care to move?” she voiced.
“No,” was all he said, as he extended a hand. She looked up at him, quite puzzled, “I had to pay for part of that uniform you are wearing. It’s bad enough that a Weasel is contaminating it, but Merlin knows you couldn’t afford to buy another one even if you tried.”
“I am not a dirty person Malfoy,” she spat angrily.
“You are a Weasley though,” he whispered. It would appear he had grown tired of standing over her, for he now took a seat in the grass next to her, plucking a pale ginger tulip and bringing it to his nose, “Mmm, the sweet smell of tulips. Not even you can ruin this sort of day Weasel.”
“How touching, the ice block actually has a heart,” she pursed her lips, staring at him intently.
“Malfoy’s don’t have hearts,” he said indifferently, tossing the tulip aside.
“Why did you come out here Malfoy? I was perfectly fine sitting alone.”
“I have nothing else to do,” he stated glumly. She stifled a laugh to the best of her ability, the color in her cheeks noticeably rising, “What Weasel?”
“I have never heard of a Malfoy who would rather spend time talking to a Weasley then finding something to do,” she spoke in short breaths to keep from laughing out loud.
“Yes well…” he started but stopped at the realization of having nothing to say. He twirled his fingers in the grass, plucking a few pieces and tossing them different ways. His mind seemed to be searching for something and Ginny couldn’t help but think that he looked…cute? She couldn’t say that, he was a Malfoy after all and the only person besides his father that she had grown to despise in her entire life, “Did you hear me Weasel?” he had obviously said something as she had been thinking, and she shook her head in response, “Figures, mother was right when she said you were all inattentive,” he sneered.
“Must you always berate my family Malfoy?” she spoke, thoroughly annoyed with him.
“I think…” he stopped, as if contemplating something, before his mouth broke into a rather large, dumpy grin, “yes I think I do.”
“Well okay, as long as it is justified,” she spoke indignantly, brushing a lone hair out of her face.
“What…no retort? No comeback? Come on Weasley, I thought we were getting better at this game,”
“No…you aren’t worth it,” she stated simply, “You will always berate my family, you will always think you are better than everyone else, and you will always think that you know everything about everyone when in reality, you haven’t got a clue. I will always have no respect for your lousy miniature self, so why bother with protesting?”
“Miniature?” he asked, unsure of her meaning.
“Yes miniature,” she huffed, her face turning a light rosy color in the heat that was slowly accumulating, “At least I am my own person Malfoy. At least in my family, people are expected to be individuals, not carbon copies. You are nothing more than a sorry excuse for a replica of the most despicable man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” she spoke heatedly, before standing and smoothing out her dress, “Goodbye Lucius,” her voice was flat, without very much context at all, but the meaning behind her heart-piercing words was quite evident. She took off towards the door to the courtyard, her red hair swinging against the nape of her neck.
She hadn’t seen it, her back to him, but his knuckles, gripping the blades of grass near him, were now sheet white. His gray eyes had lost their shimmer, and his mouth was pinned in a straight line.
“I am…” he started, breathily and stony,
“Nothing…”
“like…”
“that…”
“Bastard…”
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