Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and for all your splendiferous reviews! Sorry it took me so long to update this time, but since my kids are out of school, I've been spending more time with them and less time writing. Thank you, fyrechild, my Beta Reader, for your marvelous assistance!!
This chapter's title is from the British comedy show. As always, I would love it if you would write a review. :-)
CHAPTER 15 – Keeping Up Appearances
"Hey, Malfoy! Get your lazy bum out of bed!" an angry voice bellowed, its owner utterly oblivious to whom else it might awaken. A large, calloused hand jostled Draco's bed covers roughly, pulling him abruptly out of his dream-filled sleep.
Shite, it's Warrington. And he would be here about our . . 6 a.m. Quidditch practice. And I'd hoped I was only having a nightmare when Crabbe told me that last night.
Word about Interhouse Cooperation Week and the cancellation of next week's practices must have spread quickly. Unfortunately for the Slytherin team, their captain was driven, so they could expect to double up on practices this week to make up for the three they would miss the next.
"Gimme a few minutes," the Seeker croaked groggily as he rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to focus. Goyle and Crabbe stood at either side of the team's leader, arms crossed over their chests and looking thoroughly disgusted with their one-time idol, who still lay flat on his back. With the painful reminders of his father's visit the night before still fresh in his mind and his body, Draco felt as sore as if he had already practiced all night. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and rest his aching muscles.
He propped himself up on his elbows wearily, looking back at the three burly players who were staring down at him. They were already in full Quidditch dress down to their gloves and holding onto their broomsticks. Draco seemed to recall Crabbe telling him that their captain was intent on getting in at least two hours of practice before morning lessons. He suppressed the urge to groan aloud.
Warrington groused, "Malfoy, you look like utter shit. What do you do all night instead of sleep, wank yourself off for hours on end?" The Beaters (Now there's an appropriate name, Draco thought) were obviously amused, as they made a half-hearted attempt to keep their snickers to themselves. Their leader sneered, "Well, Sleeping Beauty, we're going out to run through our plays. Rest up -- can't afford you dozing off out there -- and then you can make up at tonight's practice by staying after we all leave." Pointing a finger at him, he threatened, "You've got one hour to get your arse out to that pitch, you lazy blighter. If you're even one minute late, you'll sit out the next game."
As Warrington reached for the door, he turned back and said nonchalantly, "I hear Grant's a rather good Seeker himself. He's been on his house team ever since he was a first-year," adding cruelly, "just like Potter.” The captain turned and left the room abruptly, Crabbe and Goyle following him so closely that each of their thick heads seemed to be vying for the position of whose would be stuck further up his arse.
Draco exhaled and sank back into his pillow. Figuring he would benefit more from getting up and moving around, he tossed the covers off roughly, dressed, and wrote a rather cryptic note to Ginny.
Seeking time alone tonight after 8:00. If you can go, sit facing my table this morning.
Yours always
It was pretty vague, but he figured she'd catch his meaning. He had to be secretive; with the ever-increasing pressure from his parents to give up this so-called 'doomed relationship', he was getting nervous about his owls being intercepted by the wrong person. Whoever that was, he wondered once again. But his mother and father's reactions were not all that surprising; he knew a few purebloods himself who would want to kill him for falling head over heels for the youngest member of the foremost blood traitor family in the school, perhaps in all of England.
And yet he just couldn't help himself. His skin tingled at the thought of her. She made him feel so loved, so warm; he was only human, and like anyone else, he craved that. She was great fun to be with, to talk with . . to love. Being with her just felt right.
He grumbled in frustration. Certain that both Lucius and Narcissa had someone watching him, he speculated for the thousandth time who it could possibly be. But once more, the answer eluded him. Was there more than one person, and would they notice him going to the Owlery with his early morning delivery? Or worse, did half of Slytherin already know, and were they gossiping behind his back?
Regardless, he doused his concern for the moment and convinced himself that it was probably safe, as not that many people were up at this hour. He sealed the brief note and made the final preparations for the practice he was already missing.
As he fumbled around in his trunk distractedly for his practice gloves, his hand grazed over a sealed bottle. He knew without seeing it that it was the one he was supposed to have sent to his mother weeks ago. Bloody hell. Extracting his soft leather gloves from their hiding spot, he tried to shove aside his promise to Ginny that he would send it immediately . . but he just couldn't shake that annoying twinge of guilt for not having done so. I had planned to just discard it and tell Madame Pomfrey that it hadn't helped. But he couldn't lie to Ginny; she would see right through him.
This is all her fault. Damn Gryffindor. She's ruining me.
Stewing silently, he finally relented; he rolled his eyes and thought, Guilt sucks.
He lifted the amber bottle up to eye level and analyzed the liquid inside carefully. Tipping the bottle to its side, he wondered about its viscosity, exactly what color it was, whether it was gritty, chalky, or smooth -- and the most maddening question of all, what it could possibly be for. Hmm, this doesn't look like any potion I've ever seen. Knowing as much as he did about potions, and aggravated that he couldn't name this one, he set it down and thought complacently, Probably just some 'female' thing.
Retrieving his letter-writing supplies, he plopped back down onto his bed. He stared at the bottle then at the blank parchment as he tried to think of exactly what to say to his mother, a challenge in and of itself. Time was of the essence, and he still had to get over to the Owlery before going the pitch. Merlin, I hate writing home, he thought sourly.
He glanced up at the mirror and gave his hair one final touch-up, procrastinating to avoid his chore. The mirror said that he looked absolutely delicious in his Quidditch robes. While drinking in the compliment, he came up with a rather ingenious plan. He decided to make this letter an opportunity to invent some plausible, perhaps an even admirable, reason why he should actually continue his relationship with Ginny. Might as well get some good out of this, he told himself. Newly inspired, he inked his quill and wrote:
Dearest Mother,
Thank you for your last letter. I am fine and hope you are as well. School is good -- lessons are challenging, but nothing I can't handle. I wish you could have seen my Quidditch victory, but I know you have had a very busy social schedule as of late. Naturally, the win would have been much sweeter if it had been against Potter. Rest assured, that day is near, perhaps even before the Slytherin-Gryffindor match in January.
Strangely, this brings me to the matter of the 'company I keep', as you so eloquently put it. It's perfect, really; as fate would have it, she is his latest crush. When he sees that she chose me over him -- it will absolutely eat him alive. The shocked looks on the smug little faces of the nightmare trio from hell will be so satisfying, I can hardly wait.
But that is not the only reason I do not wish to give her up. However gratifying that promises to be, please try to understand that--
He paused in mid-sentence and raised his quill momentarily. Maybe that bit about Potter will be enough to convince her, he thought, mulling over what to write next. Then he murmured to himself, "Might as well go for broke here, with all the damage I've done so far." He continued writing, heedless of the warning bells that were clanging loudly in his head.
I need her. I can't explain it, but somehow she's comforting to be around, and I know she cares for me. Our relationship is oddly fulfilling in many ways, and with Blaise gone, I really have no one else who appreciates me for who I am instead of the Malfoy name, money, or reputation. None of that matters to her, nor does the plain and simple truth that, in certain circles, our name means somewhat less than it once did. As bizarre as it sounds, I think that somehow plays in my favor, given her house's strange tendency to 'sympathize with the underdog'.
I am including a potion from Madame Pomfrey. She seems to think it will help you; please let me know if it does. The directions are on the note affixed to the bottle.
One more thing: As you may know, I had a visitor last night, someone who shares your opinion of what to do about my best friend. I all but refused and was summarily punished for my impertinence. Just thought you ought to know. It seems we will never be free of it.
Your loving son,
Draco
Just before sealing it, he surveyed the note once more. He carefully reconsidered the last paragraph; it wasn't really important -- he was basically just complaining -- and it would probably reinforce, in his mother's mind, that Ginny was not 'worthy of him'. Besides, it was so vaguely written, it meant almost nothing; he wasn't even sure what he was trying to express. Deciding it did nothing to further his case, he pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Obliterate."
With just fifteen minutes left to get out to the pitch, he walked briskly to the Owlery. As he did, he wondered sardonically if he would have been pressing his luck by asking if Ginny could visit for Christmas. He thought wryly, I'd probably find my own nuts in my stocking.
He entered the owls' resting station and chose a bird to deliver Ginny's message. It was rather small and drably colored, but most eager to work. The name on its perch said "Pig". He gave "Pig" an especially tasty treat to help ensure that Ginny would get the note before breakfast, then shooed it on its way.
The other was Narcissa's personal owl, Dionysus. At first, Draco thought it odd that her pet was there, but then he figured it must have delivered her 'cease and desist' order for his Occlumency lessons. He secured his mother's letter and package to Dionysus's leg. The majestic creature spread its wings and flew gracefully out into the bleak morning sky. Draco watched it for a moment or two, wishing he could feel such freedom. He sighed heavily. Fatigue was making his head pound; he felt utterly exhausted, and it wasn't even 7 a.m. yet. There, he thought as he closed his eyes briefly and leaned against the wall. I've done my duty.
The pre-dawn practice was in full swing and quite intense. He grimaced; being the Seeker, he had never liked playing Quidditch in anything less than full sunlight. But he knew that Warrington would have his arse in a sling if he didn't rise to the occasion. So despite a distracting migraine and the slight nausea that accompanied it, he joined his teammates in the air.
He regretted it almost immediately. Bludgers were flying about madly, and they seemed to have his name written all over them. His head swimming, he was finding it difficult to dodge them all; eventually, one of the growling, shifty buggers actually hit him at the top of his right shoulder. "SHIT!!!" he cursed loudly at whichever brainless oaf had knocked it his way. Fortunately, his Seeker's reflexes had enabled him to swerve at the last possible second, so the damn thing barely grazed him. It was just so bloody embarrassing. If he couldn't see a ball that large when it was coming right for him, how the hell was he supposed to find the Golden Snitch?
Speaking of the Snitch, it was nowhere in sight. Draco was positive that Warrington had locked it up inside the box, a silent jab to get back at him for waking up late. All the while, the captain kept threatening to replace him on a permanent basis, finally yelling belligerently, "Malfoy, we've more than paid your father back for these stinking brooms! Now get out there and show me why I should keep you on this team, with so many more talented guys bucking to take your spot!!"
He shot back, "Maybe I can't find the Snitch because you forgot to release it, Captain Warrington!" But his snide remark went unheeded, and the others continued practicing as if he hadn't said a word.
When Draco dodged what seemed like the hundredth Bludger that morning, he hollered, "You know, if we didn't have fucking idiots for Beaters, maybe I could concentrate on my role instead of trying not to get my arse killed!" Warrington waved his hand unconcernedly, as if to say their pampered Seeker was only sniveling . . again. Crabbe and Goyle both looked a bit confused, shrugging as if unsure what he was on about. Draco grunted to himself, grinding his teeth as he continued his fruitless search.
Following the overlong practice session, the team members remained in their robes while they ate breakfast together at the Great Hall. They got a lot of attention: most of it from admiring females, some of it from jealous players from the other houses, primarily Gryffindor. The most obvious was Ginny's brother, who couldn't keep the angry flush out of his freckle-pocked cheeks. Draco rolled his eyes and mouthed across the tables to him: "Fuck off, Weasley."
Apparently, Goyle noticed too. He nudged him in the ribs and mumbled thickly through his porridge, "Hey, Malfoy. Weasel's lookin' at you like you're good enough to eat."
Draco smirked as they snickered conspiratorially; laughing at Ron's expense was always fun. "King Weasel?" he scoffed. "Please -- not now; I'm trying to eat."
Goyle shook his head and pointed in Ginny's direction. "Not him -- her." Draco felt the blood leave his pale cheeks and then return a moment later, praying the slight blush wouldn't betray his thoughts. But the fat oaf sitting at his side paid no mind, shoveled more porridge into his mouth than it could actually hold, and said, "I mean, look at her. She looks like she's sort of -- hungry for it. Wouldn't mind having a go with her, myself." He munched on his food some more then slopped a large swig of orange juice. "If things don't work out for me and Su, who knows? Hot little number, that one. I bet she's a right good fuck," he remarked crassly, wiping the sticky drool from his stubble-covered chin.
Draco remained calm on the outside, but just under the surface, he was absolutely livid, burning with rage. In an effort to restrain the urge to literally choke his teammate, he looked down at his plate, attempting to quell his anger. He composed himself quickly, eyed Ginny as he licked his lips, then looked back at Goyle. With a wicked laugh, he suggested nonchalantly, "Why don't I take her out for a test drive and get back to you on that?" Goyle eyes lit up as if he liked that idea a bit too much; Draco felt like hurling.
Having lost most of his appetite, he picked at his remaining breakfast. He caught Ginny staring at him a number of times, giving him those little tempting looks that always hit him . . right there. Gods, she was making him crazy. Returning his attention to his eggs, which were stone cold by now, he focused on how little time he had left before his first class.
When he was not far from the Advanced Potions classroom, he felt a light tap on the back of his head. Someone had thrown something and struck him. He spun around quickly, catching Ginny's silhouette and distinctive hair as she slid into a dark recess. He surveyed the area; the halls were not very full, but he cast a Silencing Charm for good measure then cautiously slipped in beside her.
"Ginny? What are you . . ?" he asked, stopping abruptly when he saw the worry in her eyes as they searched his intently. He hissed, "Look, this really isn't a good time. I'll see you down at the pitch after 8:00 tonight." When she said nothing, he grew irritable and chastised her, "What are you doing down here, anyway? Shouldn't you be in Charms now? If either of us is late for class, then our meeting tonight is off."
Her lower lip trembled as a few scant tears spilled over her ginger lashes. "Oh, I was so worried about you, I barely slept a wink last night!" At his puzzled expression, she touched his face tenderly and whispered with trepidation, "Are you all right? Your visitor . . . did he . . hurt you?" Suddenly filled with raw emotion, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed quietly onto his shoulder.
He backed away slightly, pulling her arms down and replied with a bitter chuckle, "So you know about that?" Then eyeing her with distrust, he added, "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
Biting her quivering lip, she breathed, "Yes."
He moaned, "You didn't!" After a brief pause, he demanded tersely, "And who, in your infinite wisdom, did you think you had to tell?"
"I told . . Professor Lupin," she confessed in a low voice, the tears still evident.
He snorted then asked, "Why?" He was clearly upset with her; it was the last reaction she had expected, and she was rather taken aback.
She replied angrily, "What do you mean, why? I care about you, you nit! And your father is a dangerous individual; he didn't go to prison for organizing a knicker raid at a Girlguide camp, you know!" The muggle reference was completely lost on Draco, but he was too perturbed to ask what she meant.
He snarled, "No, I meant why did you run to Lupin?"
"Because—" she began in a hoarse undertone. "I can't explain it just now." When he only glared at her, she promised hastily, "Look, we can talk about that later; I just had to see if you were okay. Are you?"
He shrugged and replied distantly, "I'll live."
"Well, I should hope so," she said with what he felt was unnecessary brusqueness. "We'd best both get to our classes now."
Annoyed that she had betrayed a confidence (Granted, she didn't know it was one), he muttered disgustedly, "Can't believe you told Lupin. Why him?"
"I did it to protect you -- you ungrateful prat!" she argued. Then she muttered, mostly to herself, "Don't think he believed me, anyway."
Feeling guilty for snapping at him, she apologized, "Sorry I was edgy with you. I could tell in the Great Hall that you're not feeling very well." Then she gave him a quick kiss and started to rush off for the Charms classroom. She turned back suddenly and whispered, "Did you send your mum the potion?"
"Yes, I did -- thanks to you and your little guilt trip," he replied with what she would call a rather cute little smirk. She smiled her appreciation and turned away. He swatted her bum as she walked away, eliciting a soft giggle. They left separately -- Draco going the rest of the way to Advanced Potions, Ginny running off to Charms.
Professor Flitwick was by no means the toughest teacher on campus, but he didn't appreciate it when students arrived more than a few minutes late for his class. Ginny was well within the known boundaries when she sat down by Luna and dropped her knapsack, receiving only a warning glance from the spry little professor.
"Morning, Luna," she chirped to her rather odd friend. "How are you today?"
Luna set her quill down and looked up at Ginny as if she had only just realized that they had a class together. "Oh, hello, Ginny. I'm quite fine," she answered, sporting her usual slightly-dazed expression. "And you?"
Ginny marveled at how someone who could give Hermione a run for her money in sheer intelligence could behave as if she were absolutely nutters. Her odd looks, her strange beliefs, the vague mystery surrounding her life -- it all served to give her an undeserved reputation for being weirder than she actually was. After all, Ginny wouldn't befriend a barmy loon, would she?
The Ravenclaw observed her and said with a faint smile, "You look a bit more chipper than you did down in the Great Hall this morning."
"Really?" Ginny said, a bit startled that she had been so obvious. So certain she always kept her feelings for Draco under wraps, she wondered anxiously, If Luna noticed, then who else did? She withdrew her book slowly and absently turned to page 154.
Glancing over the text in her own book, Luna replied, "My goodness, yes. You looked quite distracted. You barely ate two bites." She paused, then, looking up at her with concern, asked, "Are you sure you're feeling all right today, Ginny?"
"Of course, I am!" she laughed, a bit too quickly.
"If there's anything you need to talk about, you know you can tell me. I've been your friend forever." It was true; Luna had been her confidante ever since the year the Dementors were at Hogwarts.
Professor Flitwick began instructing his fifth-year students on the more complex levitation charms to prepare them for their upcoming O.W.L.s. Ginny and Luna continued to converse quietly. As long as they were actually attempting to absorb the new material, this never seemed to bother the tiny instructor.
Then Luna said out of the blue, "Frankly, I haven't seen you that worried since the Quidditch match a few weeks ago. You seemed awfully concerned about the outcome. It was sweet of you to root for my team to win." Looking at Ginny with a whimsical smile, she added, "Too bad they didn't, though."
Ginny blushed slightly, praying it wasn't too noticeable, but looked away just in case it was. "Yeah," she concurred, "it was a shame that Slytherin played such a shut-out." She practiced the charm a few more times then attempted to change the subject, but Luna spoke first.
"So what were you so absorbed in at breakfast? Or should I say . . whom? Perhaps—" she considered as she waved her wand, balancing the massive, four-inch-thick Quidditch stats book in the air in front of her effortlessly, "a new boyfriend you don't want your brother Ronald to find out about?" Ginny swallowed nervously, trying desperately to focus on her own levitation task while remaining as inconspicuous as possible.
Meanwhile, Luna went on casually, "I mean, you didn't even bat an eye when Ron took three sausages right off your plate. Normally, you'd belt him a good one for that." Waiting for her friend's response, she carefully lowered the heavy tome to the dusty floor. It touched down with a soft thud. She repeated the difficult charm again, acing it in just a few tries.
Ginny was unable to think of a quick response, so she pretended not to have heard. After about a half-minute of feigned concentration, she said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Luna swished-and-flicked her wand, muttered the O.W.L.-level charm with ease, and then said, "I was just wondering why you were so focused on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Not that a couple of them don't look stupendous in those robes, but who would you be looking at at their table?" Luna repeated the charm once more, so effectively that even Professor Flitwick took notice. The little man tottered over to their table, animated with delight.
"Well done, Miss Lovegood!" he said enthusiastically. He scooted in between the two girls' chairs, congratulating the young Ravenclaw heartily for her 'spectacular and prompt achievement'. Ginny could have nearly kissed the professor, as he had saved her the awkwardness of making up an embarrassingly bad lie. Not that she couldn't worm her way out of a tight spot; she just wasn't comfortable lying to a close friend -- Ron excluded, of course.
Instead, the professor dragged Luna away, asking if she would mind helping Mr. Creevey with his charm, as he seemed to be having a spot of trouble with it. She agreed, immediately hopping out of her chair as if she and Ginny had not been visiting at all, and headed toward Gryffindor's amateur photographer. Ginny smiled to herself. It was rare that Luna was the center of attention. At least, not any good attention, she thought as she concentrated on her work.
She continued practicing the difficult charm for another half-hour. Finally mastering it, she raised her hand to show Professor Flitwick that she was ready to move on to the next one listed in the book. While waiting for him to stop by, she checked on Luna's progress with Colin. She was still with him, only now, she was holding onto his hand to guide his movements as they said the charm together. He looked utterly besotted with the girl. Ginny thought, Help Mr. Creevey with his charm, indeed. Looks like he's quite charmed by you, Luna. She bit her lip and grinned, and then catching Luna's eye, she raised her eyebrows and smirked.
The lesson soon drew to a close, but before Luna returned to gather her things, Colin could be overhead asking her if she would mind terribly going with him on the next Hogsmeade visit. Looking at him with her enormous eyes, she blushed furiously and said she would love to go with him. Colin practically skipped out of the room, smiling broadly and waving madly. "Thanks for everything, Luna! I'll see you later!"
Leaving the classroom, Ginny gasped as if shocked by what she had just witnessed. "Why, Miss Lovegood," she teased, "and you have the nerve to quiz me about a new boyfriend? I'm not looking for one. But it seems that our Mr. Creevey is quite smitten with you." Luna blushed again, grinning from ear to ear.
Ginny reasoned silently, Takes her mind off of my complicated love life for the moment. It seemed to work. Luna tried to suppress her giggles (without much success), so Ginny pressed on. "So have you always fancied Colin, or did this just take you by surprise?"
Luna replied shyly, "He sat with me on the train." She promptly clarified, "Not alone; there were others there, of course. He's been flirting with me ever since but hasn't had the nerve to ask me out yet."
Ginny smiled supportively, saying, "Well, I'm glad he has. He's very nice." Their paths soon diverged, sending Luna on her way to Divination, while Ginny went downstairs for Potions with the Slytherins (Ugh, she groaned to herself. Fifth-year Slytherins are the vilest creatures at this school. Not to mention their god, Professor Snape.) She felt a sudden chill of apprehension, as she wondered vaguely whether any of them had noticed her sneaking glances at their table during breakfast -- and if so, what they might say.
She spied Colin ahead of her on the stairs. Forgetting her worries for the moment, she caught up with him and slugged him lightly on the shoulder. "So, you're suddenly having trouble with Charms, Mr. Creevey?" she mocked. "I happen to know that you're quite adept at that subject."
He winked slyly and held an index finger to his lips. She winked back and whispered conspiratorially, "Your secret is safe with me." Then she giggled and ran along to class, not wishing to incur Snape's wrath for being tardy. She simply could not afford another detention, as she had to meet Draco after his Quidditch practice tonight.
*****
Later that day, when the Slytherin's evening practice was finished, Draco's teammates went back to the changing rooms, leaving him to finish up. Warrington released the Snitch once more and told him he would have to catch it four more times before coming in. And he assured him he would know if he hadn't.
For nighttime practices and games, the pitch was well-lit, and Draco was grateful for that. It made Seeking much easier, and the time whisked by rapidly. As he wrapped his fingers around the speeding little ball for the third time in an hour, he told himself, Just one more catch, that's all I need.
It wasn't so easy this time. He searched doggedly from one end of the pitch to the other, flying high and low, circling the entire arena. After an interminable amount of time, he thought he saw a minute glimmer of gold in the distance. He went into a fierce dive. He zoomed toward his goal, all the while imagining that Potter was just inches behind him; Draco gave it one last burst of speed, easily outstripping his rival. As he drew closer to the shiny object, he could see its fluttering wings. "Gotcha!" he said, quite pleased with himself.
However, when he reached it, the wings were slowing down as if it had already been caught. In the dim light at that end of he pitch, he realized why. Ginny Weasley was sitting astride her broom, grinning impishly at him and holding his prize in her hand. She said to him confidently, "Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor Seeker, Spring 1996."
Her hair was done up in a loose bun, and her robes, clearly a size too small, hugged her every curve. Miffed at her audacity, as well as the fact that she looked quite attractive despite the way she was straddling that broom (or maybe because of it), he reprimanded her dispassionately, "Hand it over, wench. I was supposed to catch that."
With mock scorn, she said, "Then you should have been faster, shouldn't you? I saw it at least five minutes ago. I got tired of waiting for you, so I grabbed it."
Draco was not amused. "Very funny. Now give it back." She handed it to him for another go, but the humming movement of its wings had stopped altogether. Apparently, it had been charmed to go exactly four more rounds, meaning his solo practice was over. He took the Snitch from Ginny's open hand; when his fingers grazed hers, a spark rushed through his body. "Thanks," he muttered, not sounding terribly appreciative. Walking together toward the Slytherin changing rooms, he added, "Just hope my team captain doesn't chew me out for this."
"You'll be fine." She chided, "You're just paranoid because you're a Slytherin -- it's in your nature."
Walking toward the changing rooms, he remarked, "Miss Weasley, I do wonder sometimes if your indomitable Gryffindor spirit will be your undoing. When I think of you and me, for example -- well, let's just say that it has been most rewarding that you are so very brave." But when they reached the dark green doors, symbolizing that only Slytherins would be allowed to step through them, she paused.
He pushed the door in and stood aside so that she could enter first. When she didn't, Draco teased her, "Not so brave now, eh? Come on . . it's just us. The others left ages ago." She looked up at him but hesitated once more. Exasperated, he finally grumbled, "Woman, I've been sweating, and now it's starting to freeze up on me! Now get your cute little arse indoors!"
She edged her way through the entrance. Realizing she was just being silly, she smiled in spite of herself. It felt no different from the Gryffindor changing rooms -- it just wore different colors. And the rooms were completely deserted, so they were all alone. He wouldn't invite me in if we weren't, right?
He bolted the doors with an Imperturbable Locking Charm (something he had picked up at Blaise's house) then started the shower with his wand, rapidly achieving the perfect temperature. Billows of steam soon rose overhead. He loosened various articles of clothing, dropping them lazily as he moved along. Wearing nothing but a wickedly sexy smile, he looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Well? Come on. I'll need you to wash my back."
"If that's all you want," she said with a casual shrug, fully aware that it wasn't. She sauntered toward him, licking her lips, taunting him, yet not removing so much as her shoes.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head and rescinded the statement. "I think not." Tucking a few of her stray hairs back in place, he appealed, "And this is the perfect spot, really. Privacy, hot soapy water, you and me, naked--"
When her tongue abruptly invaded his mouth, he decided she needed no further tempting. Her agreement was quite clear. "Yes," she whispered breathily, "brilliant place." She nibbled softly on his lips as she gently placed her hands on the back of his thighs. He quivered slightly in response. She was in charge now, and she was driving him out of his mind with desire. Her hands roamed a few inches higher, causing his pulse to pound madly, heightening his senses as every nerve in his body came alive. As she gave his bum a tight squeeze, she murmured, "Mmm, the perfect spot."
Within seconds, it became a contest of who would be the one to get her down to her last garment. He longed to drink her in, devour her completely. Holding her at the waist, he nudged her toward the shower. The sensations were heavenly: the warm water as it gently flowed over them, the soapy lather each one spread lovingly over the other's skin, the kisses that were wetter and hotter than ever before. They were drowning in each other. Softly touching the gentle beads of water that dotted the crown of her ginger hair, he took a nervous swallow and solemnly announced, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."
"I love you, too, Draco Malfoy. You're all I ever want." And she set about proving that very statement.
*****
They left the changing rooms and walked toward the castle together, holding hands and talking, their broomsticks floating next to them. When they were about 200 feet from the front doors, he pulled her close, kissed her once more, and reluctantly said goodnight. She went on ahead alone as he stayed back and watched, strolling casually across the field as he did. She reached the doors unimpeded and looked back to give him a small wave. Good, he thought. Now he could relax, get back to his house, and finish up that Defense Against the Dark Arts essay that was due first thing the next morning.
Finding his room too confining, he chose to work next to the fire in the Common Room. While he worked, he began to realize that something was a bit off, something that didn't quite fit. It was bothering him, nagging at him . . . but what was it? Somebody had said it this morning at breakfast, or at practice -- or perhaps earlier? Was it Crabbe? Who else did I see before practice? It was an odd statement about . . . What the hell was it? Or did I just imagine the whole thing?
In the midst of his last edit to his essay, a handful of younger boys paraded noisily past the fireplace in front of his chair. He sneered at them in disgust. A few minutes after they left, he looked up suddenly. His mouth fell open, and he shut it just as promptly. It hit him squarely in the face; he had remembered.
Grant said he was home schooled until he was thirteen.
~End of Chapter~
Notes: And if you're asking yourself what that has to do with anything, reread the first few paragraphs of this chapter. ;-)
My, those Hogwarts romances continue to blossom! I just thought that Luna and Colin probably belonged together. They're both a bit goony, don't you think? :-D
One more thing, then you can review. Fresh and piping-hot from the oven -- and only because I love you . . .
COOKIE FROM CHAPTER 16:
Ron breathed deeply to calm himself then ordered her curtly, "Ginny, give me your wand."
"My wand? Why?!"
He snarled, "Because I want to know what my innocent, darling little sister has been up to. Hand it over. Now.”
She bolted, trying to sidestep him, but he was the team's Keeper for a reason. He was also faster, and his longer legs allowing him to cover more area. He stopped her dead in her tracks, reached into the pocket he knew she always kept it in, and swiped it victoriously. At first, he laughed crazily, as if getting his hands on it was an obsession -- then he stopped suddenly and whispered, "Priori Incantato."
~End of Cookie~
Hmmm . . . what has Ginny been up to? If you don't know, please stop reading this fic; you're too young for it! :-D
This chapter's title is from the British comedy show. As always, I would love it if you would write a review. :-)
CHAPTER 15 – Keeping Up Appearances
"Hey, Malfoy! Get your lazy bum out of bed!" an angry voice bellowed, its owner utterly oblivious to whom else it might awaken. A large, calloused hand jostled Draco's bed covers roughly, pulling him abruptly out of his dream-filled sleep.
Shite, it's Warrington. And he would be here about our . . 6 a.m. Quidditch practice. And I'd hoped I was only having a nightmare when Crabbe told me that last night.
Word about Interhouse Cooperation Week and the cancellation of next week's practices must have spread quickly. Unfortunately for the Slytherin team, their captain was driven, so they could expect to double up on practices this week to make up for the three they would miss the next.
"Gimme a few minutes," the Seeker croaked groggily as he rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to focus. Goyle and Crabbe stood at either side of the team's leader, arms crossed over their chests and looking thoroughly disgusted with their one-time idol, who still lay flat on his back. With the painful reminders of his father's visit the night before still fresh in his mind and his body, Draco felt as sore as if he had already practiced all night. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and rest his aching muscles.
He propped himself up on his elbows wearily, looking back at the three burly players who were staring down at him. They were already in full Quidditch dress down to their gloves and holding onto their broomsticks. Draco seemed to recall Crabbe telling him that their captain was intent on getting in at least two hours of practice before morning lessons. He suppressed the urge to groan aloud.
Warrington groused, "Malfoy, you look like utter shit. What do you do all night instead of sleep, wank yourself off for hours on end?" The Beaters (Now there's an appropriate name, Draco thought) were obviously amused, as they made a half-hearted attempt to keep their snickers to themselves. Their leader sneered, "Well, Sleeping Beauty, we're going out to run through our plays. Rest up -- can't afford you dozing off out there -- and then you can make up at tonight's practice by staying after we all leave." Pointing a finger at him, he threatened, "You've got one hour to get your arse out to that pitch, you lazy blighter. If you're even one minute late, you'll sit out the next game."
As Warrington reached for the door, he turned back and said nonchalantly, "I hear Grant's a rather good Seeker himself. He's been on his house team ever since he was a first-year," adding cruelly, "just like Potter.” The captain turned and left the room abruptly, Crabbe and Goyle following him so closely that each of their thick heads seemed to be vying for the position of whose would be stuck further up his arse.
Draco exhaled and sank back into his pillow. Figuring he would benefit more from getting up and moving around, he tossed the covers off roughly, dressed, and wrote a rather cryptic note to Ginny.
Seeking time alone tonight after 8:00. If you can go, sit facing my table this morning.
Yours always
It was pretty vague, but he figured she'd catch his meaning. He had to be secretive; with the ever-increasing pressure from his parents to give up this so-called 'doomed relationship', he was getting nervous about his owls being intercepted by the wrong person. Whoever that was, he wondered once again. But his mother and father's reactions were not all that surprising; he knew a few purebloods himself who would want to kill him for falling head over heels for the youngest member of the foremost blood traitor family in the school, perhaps in all of England.
And yet he just couldn't help himself. His skin tingled at the thought of her. She made him feel so loved, so warm; he was only human, and like anyone else, he craved that. She was great fun to be with, to talk with . . to love. Being with her just felt right.
He grumbled in frustration. Certain that both Lucius and Narcissa had someone watching him, he speculated for the thousandth time who it could possibly be. But once more, the answer eluded him. Was there more than one person, and would they notice him going to the Owlery with his early morning delivery? Or worse, did half of Slytherin already know, and were they gossiping behind his back?
Regardless, he doused his concern for the moment and convinced himself that it was probably safe, as not that many people were up at this hour. He sealed the brief note and made the final preparations for the practice he was already missing.
As he fumbled around in his trunk distractedly for his practice gloves, his hand grazed over a sealed bottle. He knew without seeing it that it was the one he was supposed to have sent to his mother weeks ago. Bloody hell. Extracting his soft leather gloves from their hiding spot, he tried to shove aside his promise to Ginny that he would send it immediately . . but he just couldn't shake that annoying twinge of guilt for not having done so. I had planned to just discard it and tell Madame Pomfrey that it hadn't helped. But he couldn't lie to Ginny; she would see right through him.
This is all her fault. Damn Gryffindor. She's ruining me.
Stewing silently, he finally relented; he rolled his eyes and thought, Guilt sucks.
He lifted the amber bottle up to eye level and analyzed the liquid inside carefully. Tipping the bottle to its side, he wondered about its viscosity, exactly what color it was, whether it was gritty, chalky, or smooth -- and the most maddening question of all, what it could possibly be for. Hmm, this doesn't look like any potion I've ever seen. Knowing as much as he did about potions, and aggravated that he couldn't name this one, he set it down and thought complacently, Probably just some 'female' thing.
Retrieving his letter-writing supplies, he plopped back down onto his bed. He stared at the bottle then at the blank parchment as he tried to think of exactly what to say to his mother, a challenge in and of itself. Time was of the essence, and he still had to get over to the Owlery before going the pitch. Merlin, I hate writing home, he thought sourly.
He glanced up at the mirror and gave his hair one final touch-up, procrastinating to avoid his chore. The mirror said that he looked absolutely delicious in his Quidditch robes. While drinking in the compliment, he came up with a rather ingenious plan. He decided to make this letter an opportunity to invent some plausible, perhaps an even admirable, reason why he should actually continue his relationship with Ginny. Might as well get some good out of this, he told himself. Newly inspired, he inked his quill and wrote:
Dearest Mother,
Thank you for your last letter. I am fine and hope you are as well. School is good -- lessons are challenging, but nothing I can't handle. I wish you could have seen my Quidditch victory, but I know you have had a very busy social schedule as of late. Naturally, the win would have been much sweeter if it had been against Potter. Rest assured, that day is near, perhaps even before the Slytherin-Gryffindor match in January.
Strangely, this brings me to the matter of the 'company I keep', as you so eloquently put it. It's perfect, really; as fate would have it, she is his latest crush. When he sees that she chose me over him -- it will absolutely eat him alive. The shocked looks on the smug little faces of the nightmare trio from hell will be so satisfying, I can hardly wait.
But that is not the only reason I do not wish to give her up. However gratifying that promises to be, please try to understand that--
He paused in mid-sentence and raised his quill momentarily. Maybe that bit about Potter will be enough to convince her, he thought, mulling over what to write next. Then he murmured to himself, "Might as well go for broke here, with all the damage I've done so far." He continued writing, heedless of the warning bells that were clanging loudly in his head.
I need her. I can't explain it, but somehow she's comforting to be around, and I know she cares for me. Our relationship is oddly fulfilling in many ways, and with Blaise gone, I really have no one else who appreciates me for who I am instead of the Malfoy name, money, or reputation. None of that matters to her, nor does the plain and simple truth that, in certain circles, our name means somewhat less than it once did. As bizarre as it sounds, I think that somehow plays in my favor, given her house's strange tendency to 'sympathize with the underdog'.
I am including a potion from Madame Pomfrey. She seems to think it will help you; please let me know if it does. The directions are on the note affixed to the bottle.
One more thing: As you may know, I had a visitor last night, someone who shares your opinion of what to do about my best friend. I all but refused and was summarily punished for my impertinence. Just thought you ought to know. It seems we will never be free of it.
Your loving son,
Draco
Just before sealing it, he surveyed the note once more. He carefully reconsidered the last paragraph; it wasn't really important -- he was basically just complaining -- and it would probably reinforce, in his mother's mind, that Ginny was not 'worthy of him'. Besides, it was so vaguely written, it meant almost nothing; he wasn't even sure what he was trying to express. Deciding it did nothing to further his case, he pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Obliterate."
With just fifteen minutes left to get out to the pitch, he walked briskly to the Owlery. As he did, he wondered sardonically if he would have been pressing his luck by asking if Ginny could visit for Christmas. He thought wryly, I'd probably find my own nuts in my stocking.
He entered the owls' resting station and chose a bird to deliver Ginny's message. It was rather small and drably colored, but most eager to work. The name on its perch said "Pig". He gave "Pig" an especially tasty treat to help ensure that Ginny would get the note before breakfast, then shooed it on its way.
The other was Narcissa's personal owl, Dionysus. At first, Draco thought it odd that her pet was there, but then he figured it must have delivered her 'cease and desist' order for his Occlumency lessons. He secured his mother's letter and package to Dionysus's leg. The majestic creature spread its wings and flew gracefully out into the bleak morning sky. Draco watched it for a moment or two, wishing he could feel such freedom. He sighed heavily. Fatigue was making his head pound; he felt utterly exhausted, and it wasn't even 7 a.m. yet. There, he thought as he closed his eyes briefly and leaned against the wall. I've done my duty.
The pre-dawn practice was in full swing and quite intense. He grimaced; being the Seeker, he had never liked playing Quidditch in anything less than full sunlight. But he knew that Warrington would have his arse in a sling if he didn't rise to the occasion. So despite a distracting migraine and the slight nausea that accompanied it, he joined his teammates in the air.
He regretted it almost immediately. Bludgers were flying about madly, and they seemed to have his name written all over them. His head swimming, he was finding it difficult to dodge them all; eventually, one of the growling, shifty buggers actually hit him at the top of his right shoulder. "SHIT!!!" he cursed loudly at whichever brainless oaf had knocked it his way. Fortunately, his Seeker's reflexes had enabled him to swerve at the last possible second, so the damn thing barely grazed him. It was just so bloody embarrassing. If he couldn't see a ball that large when it was coming right for him, how the hell was he supposed to find the Golden Snitch?
Speaking of the Snitch, it was nowhere in sight. Draco was positive that Warrington had locked it up inside the box, a silent jab to get back at him for waking up late. All the while, the captain kept threatening to replace him on a permanent basis, finally yelling belligerently, "Malfoy, we've more than paid your father back for these stinking brooms! Now get out there and show me why I should keep you on this team, with so many more talented guys bucking to take your spot!!"
He shot back, "Maybe I can't find the Snitch because you forgot to release it, Captain Warrington!" But his snide remark went unheeded, and the others continued practicing as if he hadn't said a word.
When Draco dodged what seemed like the hundredth Bludger that morning, he hollered, "You know, if we didn't have fucking idiots for Beaters, maybe I could concentrate on my role instead of trying not to get my arse killed!" Warrington waved his hand unconcernedly, as if to say their pampered Seeker was only sniveling . . again. Crabbe and Goyle both looked a bit confused, shrugging as if unsure what he was on about. Draco grunted to himself, grinding his teeth as he continued his fruitless search.
Following the overlong practice session, the team members remained in their robes while they ate breakfast together at the Great Hall. They got a lot of attention: most of it from admiring females, some of it from jealous players from the other houses, primarily Gryffindor. The most obvious was Ginny's brother, who couldn't keep the angry flush out of his freckle-pocked cheeks. Draco rolled his eyes and mouthed across the tables to him: "Fuck off, Weasley."
Apparently, Goyle noticed too. He nudged him in the ribs and mumbled thickly through his porridge, "Hey, Malfoy. Weasel's lookin' at you like you're good enough to eat."
Draco smirked as they snickered conspiratorially; laughing at Ron's expense was always fun. "King Weasel?" he scoffed. "Please -- not now; I'm trying to eat."
Goyle shook his head and pointed in Ginny's direction. "Not him -- her." Draco felt the blood leave his pale cheeks and then return a moment later, praying the slight blush wouldn't betray his thoughts. But the fat oaf sitting at his side paid no mind, shoveled more porridge into his mouth than it could actually hold, and said, "I mean, look at her. She looks like she's sort of -- hungry for it. Wouldn't mind having a go with her, myself." He munched on his food some more then slopped a large swig of orange juice. "If things don't work out for me and Su, who knows? Hot little number, that one. I bet she's a right good fuck," he remarked crassly, wiping the sticky drool from his stubble-covered chin.
Draco remained calm on the outside, but just under the surface, he was absolutely livid, burning with rage. In an effort to restrain the urge to literally choke his teammate, he looked down at his plate, attempting to quell his anger. He composed himself quickly, eyed Ginny as he licked his lips, then looked back at Goyle. With a wicked laugh, he suggested nonchalantly, "Why don't I take her out for a test drive and get back to you on that?" Goyle eyes lit up as if he liked that idea a bit too much; Draco felt like hurling.
Having lost most of his appetite, he picked at his remaining breakfast. He caught Ginny staring at him a number of times, giving him those little tempting looks that always hit him . . right there. Gods, she was making him crazy. Returning his attention to his eggs, which were stone cold by now, he focused on how little time he had left before his first class.
When he was not far from the Advanced Potions classroom, he felt a light tap on the back of his head. Someone had thrown something and struck him. He spun around quickly, catching Ginny's silhouette and distinctive hair as she slid into a dark recess. He surveyed the area; the halls were not very full, but he cast a Silencing Charm for good measure then cautiously slipped in beside her.
"Ginny? What are you . . ?" he asked, stopping abruptly when he saw the worry in her eyes as they searched his intently. He hissed, "Look, this really isn't a good time. I'll see you down at the pitch after 8:00 tonight." When she said nothing, he grew irritable and chastised her, "What are you doing down here, anyway? Shouldn't you be in Charms now? If either of us is late for class, then our meeting tonight is off."
Her lower lip trembled as a few scant tears spilled over her ginger lashes. "Oh, I was so worried about you, I barely slept a wink last night!" At his puzzled expression, she touched his face tenderly and whispered with trepidation, "Are you all right? Your visitor . . . did he . . hurt you?" Suddenly filled with raw emotion, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed quietly onto his shoulder.
He backed away slightly, pulling her arms down and replied with a bitter chuckle, "So you know about that?" Then eyeing her with distrust, he added, "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
Biting her quivering lip, she breathed, "Yes."
He moaned, "You didn't!" After a brief pause, he demanded tersely, "And who, in your infinite wisdom, did you think you had to tell?"
"I told . . Professor Lupin," she confessed in a low voice, the tears still evident.
He snorted then asked, "Why?" He was clearly upset with her; it was the last reaction she had expected, and she was rather taken aback.
She replied angrily, "What do you mean, why? I care about you, you nit! And your father is a dangerous individual; he didn't go to prison for organizing a knicker raid at a Girlguide camp, you know!" The muggle reference was completely lost on Draco, but he was too perturbed to ask what she meant.
He snarled, "No, I meant why did you run to Lupin?"
"Because—" she began in a hoarse undertone. "I can't explain it just now." When he only glared at her, she promised hastily, "Look, we can talk about that later; I just had to see if you were okay. Are you?"
He shrugged and replied distantly, "I'll live."
"Well, I should hope so," she said with what he felt was unnecessary brusqueness. "We'd best both get to our classes now."
Annoyed that she had betrayed a confidence (Granted, she didn't know it was one), he muttered disgustedly, "Can't believe you told Lupin. Why him?"
"I did it to protect you -- you ungrateful prat!" she argued. Then she muttered, mostly to herself, "Don't think he believed me, anyway."
Feeling guilty for snapping at him, she apologized, "Sorry I was edgy with you. I could tell in the Great Hall that you're not feeling very well." Then she gave him a quick kiss and started to rush off for the Charms classroom. She turned back suddenly and whispered, "Did you send your mum the potion?"
"Yes, I did -- thanks to you and your little guilt trip," he replied with what she would call a rather cute little smirk. She smiled her appreciation and turned away. He swatted her bum as she walked away, eliciting a soft giggle. They left separately -- Draco going the rest of the way to Advanced Potions, Ginny running off to Charms.
Professor Flitwick was by no means the toughest teacher on campus, but he didn't appreciate it when students arrived more than a few minutes late for his class. Ginny was well within the known boundaries when she sat down by Luna and dropped her knapsack, receiving only a warning glance from the spry little professor.
"Morning, Luna," she chirped to her rather odd friend. "How are you today?"
Luna set her quill down and looked up at Ginny as if she had only just realized that they had a class together. "Oh, hello, Ginny. I'm quite fine," she answered, sporting her usual slightly-dazed expression. "And you?"
Ginny marveled at how someone who could give Hermione a run for her money in sheer intelligence could behave as if she were absolutely nutters. Her odd looks, her strange beliefs, the vague mystery surrounding her life -- it all served to give her an undeserved reputation for being weirder than she actually was. After all, Ginny wouldn't befriend a barmy loon, would she?
The Ravenclaw observed her and said with a faint smile, "You look a bit more chipper than you did down in the Great Hall this morning."
"Really?" Ginny said, a bit startled that she had been so obvious. So certain she always kept her feelings for Draco under wraps, she wondered anxiously, If Luna noticed, then who else did? She withdrew her book slowly and absently turned to page 154.
Glancing over the text in her own book, Luna replied, "My goodness, yes. You looked quite distracted. You barely ate two bites." She paused, then, looking up at her with concern, asked, "Are you sure you're feeling all right today, Ginny?"
"Of course, I am!" she laughed, a bit too quickly.
"If there's anything you need to talk about, you know you can tell me. I've been your friend forever." It was true; Luna had been her confidante ever since the year the Dementors were at Hogwarts.
Professor Flitwick began instructing his fifth-year students on the more complex levitation charms to prepare them for their upcoming O.W.L.s. Ginny and Luna continued to converse quietly. As long as they were actually attempting to absorb the new material, this never seemed to bother the tiny instructor.
Then Luna said out of the blue, "Frankly, I haven't seen you that worried since the Quidditch match a few weeks ago. You seemed awfully concerned about the outcome. It was sweet of you to root for my team to win." Looking at Ginny with a whimsical smile, she added, "Too bad they didn't, though."
Ginny blushed slightly, praying it wasn't too noticeable, but looked away just in case it was. "Yeah," she concurred, "it was a shame that Slytherin played such a shut-out." She practiced the charm a few more times then attempted to change the subject, but Luna spoke first.
"So what were you so absorbed in at breakfast? Or should I say . . whom? Perhaps—" she considered as she waved her wand, balancing the massive, four-inch-thick Quidditch stats book in the air in front of her effortlessly, "a new boyfriend you don't want your brother Ronald to find out about?" Ginny swallowed nervously, trying desperately to focus on her own levitation task while remaining as inconspicuous as possible.
Meanwhile, Luna went on casually, "I mean, you didn't even bat an eye when Ron took three sausages right off your plate. Normally, you'd belt him a good one for that." Waiting for her friend's response, she carefully lowered the heavy tome to the dusty floor. It touched down with a soft thud. She repeated the difficult charm again, acing it in just a few tries.
Ginny was unable to think of a quick response, so she pretended not to have heard. After about a half-minute of feigned concentration, she said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Luna swished-and-flicked her wand, muttered the O.W.L.-level charm with ease, and then said, "I was just wondering why you were so focused on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Not that a couple of them don't look stupendous in those robes, but who would you be looking at at their table?" Luna repeated the charm once more, so effectively that even Professor Flitwick took notice. The little man tottered over to their table, animated with delight.
"Well done, Miss Lovegood!" he said enthusiastically. He scooted in between the two girls' chairs, congratulating the young Ravenclaw heartily for her 'spectacular and prompt achievement'. Ginny could have nearly kissed the professor, as he had saved her the awkwardness of making up an embarrassingly bad lie. Not that she couldn't worm her way out of a tight spot; she just wasn't comfortable lying to a close friend -- Ron excluded, of course.
Instead, the professor dragged Luna away, asking if she would mind helping Mr. Creevey with his charm, as he seemed to be having a spot of trouble with it. She agreed, immediately hopping out of her chair as if she and Ginny had not been visiting at all, and headed toward Gryffindor's amateur photographer. Ginny smiled to herself. It was rare that Luna was the center of attention. At least, not any good attention, she thought as she concentrated on her work.
She continued practicing the difficult charm for another half-hour. Finally mastering it, she raised her hand to show Professor Flitwick that she was ready to move on to the next one listed in the book. While waiting for him to stop by, she checked on Luna's progress with Colin. She was still with him, only now, she was holding onto his hand to guide his movements as they said the charm together. He looked utterly besotted with the girl. Ginny thought, Help Mr. Creevey with his charm, indeed. Looks like he's quite charmed by you, Luna. She bit her lip and grinned, and then catching Luna's eye, she raised her eyebrows and smirked.
The lesson soon drew to a close, but before Luna returned to gather her things, Colin could be overhead asking her if she would mind terribly going with him on the next Hogsmeade visit. Looking at him with her enormous eyes, she blushed furiously and said she would love to go with him. Colin practically skipped out of the room, smiling broadly and waving madly. "Thanks for everything, Luna! I'll see you later!"
Leaving the classroom, Ginny gasped as if shocked by what she had just witnessed. "Why, Miss Lovegood," she teased, "and you have the nerve to quiz me about a new boyfriend? I'm not looking for one. But it seems that our Mr. Creevey is quite smitten with you." Luna blushed again, grinning from ear to ear.
Ginny reasoned silently, Takes her mind off of my complicated love life for the moment. It seemed to work. Luna tried to suppress her giggles (without much success), so Ginny pressed on. "So have you always fancied Colin, or did this just take you by surprise?"
Luna replied shyly, "He sat with me on the train." She promptly clarified, "Not alone; there were others there, of course. He's been flirting with me ever since but hasn't had the nerve to ask me out yet."
Ginny smiled supportively, saying, "Well, I'm glad he has. He's very nice." Their paths soon diverged, sending Luna on her way to Divination, while Ginny went downstairs for Potions with the Slytherins (Ugh, she groaned to herself. Fifth-year Slytherins are the vilest creatures at this school. Not to mention their god, Professor Snape.) She felt a sudden chill of apprehension, as she wondered vaguely whether any of them had noticed her sneaking glances at their table during breakfast -- and if so, what they might say.
She spied Colin ahead of her on the stairs. Forgetting her worries for the moment, she caught up with him and slugged him lightly on the shoulder. "So, you're suddenly having trouble with Charms, Mr. Creevey?" she mocked. "I happen to know that you're quite adept at that subject."
He winked slyly and held an index finger to his lips. She winked back and whispered conspiratorially, "Your secret is safe with me." Then she giggled and ran along to class, not wishing to incur Snape's wrath for being tardy. She simply could not afford another detention, as she had to meet Draco after his Quidditch practice tonight.
Later that day, when the Slytherin's evening practice was finished, Draco's teammates went back to the changing rooms, leaving him to finish up. Warrington released the Snitch once more and told him he would have to catch it four more times before coming in. And he assured him he would know if he hadn't.
For nighttime practices and games, the pitch was well-lit, and Draco was grateful for that. It made Seeking much easier, and the time whisked by rapidly. As he wrapped his fingers around the speeding little ball for the third time in an hour, he told himself, Just one more catch, that's all I need.
It wasn't so easy this time. He searched doggedly from one end of the pitch to the other, flying high and low, circling the entire arena. After an interminable amount of time, he thought he saw a minute glimmer of gold in the distance. He went into a fierce dive. He zoomed toward his goal, all the while imagining that Potter was just inches behind him; Draco gave it one last burst of speed, easily outstripping his rival. As he drew closer to the shiny object, he could see its fluttering wings. "Gotcha!" he said, quite pleased with himself.
However, when he reached it, the wings were slowing down as if it had already been caught. In the dim light at that end of he pitch, he realized why. Ginny Weasley was sitting astride her broom, grinning impishly at him and holding his prize in her hand. She said to him confidently, "Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor Seeker, Spring 1996."
Her hair was done up in a loose bun, and her robes, clearly a size too small, hugged her every curve. Miffed at her audacity, as well as the fact that she looked quite attractive despite the way she was straddling that broom (or maybe because of it), he reprimanded her dispassionately, "Hand it over, wench. I was supposed to catch that."
With mock scorn, she said, "Then you should have been faster, shouldn't you? I saw it at least five minutes ago. I got tired of waiting for you, so I grabbed it."
Draco was not amused. "Very funny. Now give it back." She handed it to him for another go, but the humming movement of its wings had stopped altogether. Apparently, it had been charmed to go exactly four more rounds, meaning his solo practice was over. He took the Snitch from Ginny's open hand; when his fingers grazed hers, a spark rushed through his body. "Thanks," he muttered, not sounding terribly appreciative. Walking together toward the Slytherin changing rooms, he added, "Just hope my team captain doesn't chew me out for this."
"You'll be fine." She chided, "You're just paranoid because you're a Slytherin -- it's in your nature."
Walking toward the changing rooms, he remarked, "Miss Weasley, I do wonder sometimes if your indomitable Gryffindor spirit will be your undoing. When I think of you and me, for example -- well, let's just say that it has been most rewarding that you are so very brave." But when they reached the dark green doors, symbolizing that only Slytherins would be allowed to step through them, she paused.
He pushed the door in and stood aside so that she could enter first. When she didn't, Draco teased her, "Not so brave now, eh? Come on . . it's just us. The others left ages ago." She looked up at him but hesitated once more. Exasperated, he finally grumbled, "Woman, I've been sweating, and now it's starting to freeze up on me! Now get your cute little arse indoors!"
She edged her way through the entrance. Realizing she was just being silly, she smiled in spite of herself. It felt no different from the Gryffindor changing rooms -- it just wore different colors. And the rooms were completely deserted, so they were all alone. He wouldn't invite me in if we weren't, right?
He bolted the doors with an Imperturbable Locking Charm (something he had picked up at Blaise's house) then started the shower with his wand, rapidly achieving the perfect temperature. Billows of steam soon rose overhead. He loosened various articles of clothing, dropping them lazily as he moved along. Wearing nothing but a wickedly sexy smile, he looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Well? Come on. I'll need you to wash my back."
"If that's all you want," she said with a casual shrug, fully aware that it wasn't. She sauntered toward him, licking her lips, taunting him, yet not removing so much as her shoes.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head and rescinded the statement. "I think not." Tucking a few of her stray hairs back in place, he appealed, "And this is the perfect spot, really. Privacy, hot soapy water, you and me, naked--"
When her tongue abruptly invaded his mouth, he decided she needed no further tempting. Her agreement was quite clear. "Yes," she whispered breathily, "brilliant place." She nibbled softly on his lips as she gently placed her hands on the back of his thighs. He quivered slightly in response. She was in charge now, and she was driving him out of his mind with desire. Her hands roamed a few inches higher, causing his pulse to pound madly, heightening his senses as every nerve in his body came alive. As she gave his bum a tight squeeze, she murmured, "Mmm, the perfect spot."
Within seconds, it became a contest of who would be the one to get her down to her last garment. He longed to drink her in, devour her completely. Holding her at the waist, he nudged her toward the shower. The sensations were heavenly: the warm water as it gently flowed over them, the soapy lather each one spread lovingly over the other's skin, the kisses that were wetter and hotter than ever before. They were drowning in each other. Softly touching the gentle beads of water that dotted the crown of her ginger hair, he took a nervous swallow and solemnly announced, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."
"I love you, too, Draco Malfoy. You're all I ever want." And she set about proving that very statement.
They left the changing rooms and walked toward the castle together, holding hands and talking, their broomsticks floating next to them. When they were about 200 feet from the front doors, he pulled her close, kissed her once more, and reluctantly said goodnight. She went on ahead alone as he stayed back and watched, strolling casually across the field as he did. She reached the doors unimpeded and looked back to give him a small wave. Good, he thought. Now he could relax, get back to his house, and finish up that Defense Against the Dark Arts essay that was due first thing the next morning.
Finding his room too confining, he chose to work next to the fire in the Common Room. While he worked, he began to realize that something was a bit off, something that didn't quite fit. It was bothering him, nagging at him . . . but what was it? Somebody had said it this morning at breakfast, or at practice -- or perhaps earlier? Was it Crabbe? Who else did I see before practice? It was an odd statement about . . . What the hell was it? Or did I just imagine the whole thing?
In the midst of his last edit to his essay, a handful of younger boys paraded noisily past the fireplace in front of his chair. He sneered at them in disgust. A few minutes after they left, he looked up suddenly. His mouth fell open, and he shut it just as promptly. It hit him squarely in the face; he had remembered.
Grant said he was home schooled until he was thirteen.
~End of Chapter~
Notes: And if you're asking yourself what that has to do with anything, reread the first few paragraphs of this chapter. ;-)
My, those Hogwarts romances continue to blossom! I just thought that Luna and Colin probably belonged together. They're both a bit goony, don't you think? :-D
One more thing, then you can review. Fresh and piping-hot from the oven -- and only because I love you . . .
COOKIE FROM CHAPTER 16:
Ron breathed deeply to calm himself then ordered her curtly, "Ginny, give me your wand."
"My wand? Why?!"
He snarled, "Because I want to know what my innocent, darling little sister has been up to. Hand it over. Now.”
She bolted, trying to sidestep him, but he was the team's Keeper for a reason. He was also faster, and his longer legs allowing him to cover more area. He stopped her dead in her tracks, reached into the pocket he knew she always kept it in, and swiped it victoriously. At first, he laughed crazily, as if getting his hands on it was an obsession -- then he stopped suddenly and whispered, "Priori Incantato."
~End of Cookie~
Hmmm . . . what has Ginny been up to? If you don't know, please stop reading this fic; you're too young for it! :-D
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