Chapter 8- Ginny, the Slytherin?
True to his word, an owl arrived from Blaise early the next morning. Yawning, Ginny rolled over and pulled the piece of parchment off its leg. It read:
Reasons Why You’d Be a Good Slytherin
1. You’re a red-head. I like red-heads
2. You kissed Draco Malfoy
3. And flustered him enough that he didn’t sleep all night
4. You’re nothing like the other Gryffindors
5. You’re a pureblood (even though you ARE a blood traitor)
6. You can out-sing any girl I’ve ever heard
7. You’re hot. Hot people just can’t be allowed anywhere but Slytherin
8. You’re Christine Daae. Just think: if you were a Slytherin, then the three main parts would be held by the same house
9. You dumped Harry Potter
10. That majorly humiliated him
11. Which, in turn, granted we Slytherins great pleasure
12. You’ve finally grown a backbone in the last couple years
13. You’re a damn good kisser
14. Even on stage in front of 50 people
15. You actually read this whole list
16. You’re meeting me for breakfast this morning
17. How’s 8 sound?
Ginny suddenly realized why the owl had just been standing there all this time. She rummaged around in her bag for a quill and scrawled ‘Make it 8:30’ on the bottom of the parchment. She was about to send the whole thing back to him, but was suddenly overcome by a great desire to keep the list. Ripping off only the bottom portion, she gave that back to the owl and watched as it flew off.
She glanced at her clock and saw 7:30. With a groan, Ginny rolled out of bed and headed for the showers. He had better appreciate this.
Ginny walked into the Great Hall still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair hanging damp around her shoulders. Blaise was already sitting there, looking far too awake for this early, in Ginny’s opinion. He spotted her and patted the bench next to him. On the table lay a tray of pastries, cereals, and breakfast meat.
She plopped down on the bench he’d indicated sleepily, hesitating only slightly at the realization she was sitting at the Slytherin table. Blaise grinned.
“I had the house-elves send some food in. I figured you’d be hungry in the morning.”
“Smart man,” she murmured in reply, reaching for an apple Danish. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ginny posed the question on her mind. “Why’d you want to eat with me?”
Blaise shrugged, taking bites off the sausage he'd speared. “I wanted to know what you thought of my list.”
Ginny stared. “And it couldn’t have waited until, say,
noon?”
Blaise grinned wickedly, but didn’t say anything. Ginny sighed and started talking.
“It made me smile, at least. I guess I can see what you mean about me making a good Slythie.” Ginny took a long swig of pumpkin juice, and grimaced at the flavor. “Why did you try out for Raoul?”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Truthfully? I wanted to annoy you.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised by that.”
“How am I doing?”
Ginny groaned. “Let’s recap, shall we? You woke me up 2 hours too early for a Saturday morning, gave me list telling my why I’m good at being evil, and dragged me down here to eat with you at the Slytherin table. I’d say you’re doing a fine job.”
“Good.” Blaise was silent for a moment, then spoke again, his eyes glittering. “Hypothetically speaking, what do you think your brother would say if he could see you now?”
“Which brother? I have a good number of them, you know.”
“Weasel King.”
Ginny snorted. “He’d freeze up, and his face would slowly turn red, then purple. He'd stand there and mouth wordlessly for a few seconds, then finally decide to stomp over here, bellow ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley,’ and yell at me meaninglessly for a little bit. I’d say something calm, which would make him even angrier, and he’d eventually go storming off, with Harry and Hermione trying desperately to calm him down.”
Blaise looked impressed. “Good job, Love.” At Ginny’s confusion, he pointed across the hall.
Ron stood there, looking at his sister with horror, his red face slowly turning purple. His mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds, then he came stomping over to where the pair was eating breakfast.
“Ginny! What do you think you’re doing? This is the Slytherin table!”
Ginny grinned. “Oh, did you miss the memo, Ron? I’m a Slytherin now, just ask Blaise.”
Ron shifted his gaze to Blaise, who smiled a wide, goofy grin in greeting. “Well, hi!”
Ginny finished her lines with Blaise, and stood there feeling stupid as she waited for the music to start. At long last, a smooth drum roll grew steadily, and Draco began to sing from somewhere beyond Ginny’s line of sight.
“Insolent boy, this slave of fashion,
Basking in your glory.
Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor,
Sharing in my triumph”
Ginny looked around as the harsh music softened, slightly afraid, slightly in awe of this disembodied voice that guided her.
“Angel, I hear you! Speak, I listen.
Stay by my side, guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak; forgive me!
Enter at last, master!”
Three violins came in perfectly with Draco, and were soon joined by three more, building the song back up to what it had been.
“Flattering child, you shall know me,
See why in shadow I hide.
Look at your face in the mirror!
I am there inside.”
The mirror was suddenly no longer there, and Draco stood in its place, holding out his hand to Ginny.
“Angel of music, guide and guardian,
Grant to me your glory!
Angel of music, hide no longer!
Come to me, strange angel!”
Ginny went to him, eyes wide in her face, and fog swirling around her feet.
“I am your angel of music;
Come to me angel of music.”
Blaise banged loudly on the door of the dressing room, yelling, but Ginny was far too seduced by her Phantom to hear.
“Whose is that voice?
Who is that in there?”
“I am your angel of music;
Come to me, angel of music!”
True to his word, an owl arrived from Blaise early the next morning. Yawning, Ginny rolled over and pulled the piece of parchment off its leg. It read:
Reasons Why You’d Be a Good Slytherin
1. You’re a red-head. I like red-heads
2. You kissed Draco Malfoy
3. And flustered him enough that he didn’t sleep all night
4. You’re nothing like the other Gryffindors
5. You’re a pureblood (even though you ARE a blood traitor)
6. You can out-sing any girl I’ve ever heard
7. You’re hot. Hot people just can’t be allowed anywhere but Slytherin
8. You’re Christine Daae. Just think: if you were a Slytherin, then the three main parts would be held by the same house
9. You dumped Harry Potter
10. That majorly humiliated him
11. Which, in turn, granted we Slytherins great pleasure
12. You’ve finally grown a backbone in the last couple years
13. You’re a damn good kisser
14. Even on stage in front of 50 people
15. You actually read this whole list
16. You’re meeting me for breakfast this morning
17. How’s 8 sound?
Ginny suddenly realized why the owl had just been standing there all this time. She rummaged around in her bag for a quill and scrawled ‘Make it 8:30’ on the bottom of the parchment. She was about to send the whole thing back to him, but was suddenly overcome by a great desire to keep the list. Ripping off only the bottom portion, she gave that back to the owl and watched as it flew off.
She glanced at her clock and saw 7:30. With a groan, Ginny rolled out of bed and headed for the showers. He had better appreciate this.
Ginny walked into the Great Hall still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair hanging damp around her shoulders. Blaise was already sitting there, looking far too awake for this early, in Ginny’s opinion. He spotted her and patted the bench next to him. On the table lay a tray of pastries, cereals, and breakfast meat.
She plopped down on the bench he’d indicated sleepily, hesitating only slightly at the realization she was sitting at the Slytherin table. Blaise grinned.
“I had the house-elves send some food in. I figured you’d be hungry in the morning.”
“Smart man,” she murmured in reply, reaching for an apple Danish. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ginny posed the question on her mind. “Why’d you want to eat with me?”
Blaise shrugged, taking bites off the sausage he'd speared. “I wanted to know what you thought of my list.”
Ginny stared. “And it couldn’t have waited until, say,
noon?”
Blaise grinned wickedly, but didn’t say anything. Ginny sighed and started talking.
“It made me smile, at least. I guess I can see what you mean about me making a good Slythie.” Ginny took a long swig of pumpkin juice, and grimaced at the flavor. “Why did you try out for Raoul?”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Truthfully? I wanted to annoy you.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised by that.”
“How am I doing?”
Ginny groaned. “Let’s recap, shall we? You woke me up 2 hours too early for a Saturday morning, gave me list telling my why I’m good at being evil, and dragged me down here to eat with you at the Slytherin table. I’d say you’re doing a fine job.”
“Good.” Blaise was silent for a moment, then spoke again, his eyes glittering. “Hypothetically speaking, what do you think your brother would say if he could see you now?”
“Which brother? I have a good number of them, you know.”
“Weasel King.”
Ginny snorted. “He’d freeze up, and his face would slowly turn red, then purple. He'd stand there and mouth wordlessly for a few seconds, then finally decide to stomp over here, bellow ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley,’ and yell at me meaninglessly for a little bit. I’d say something calm, which would make him even angrier, and he’d eventually go storming off, with Harry and Hermione trying desperately to calm him down.”
Blaise looked impressed. “Good job, Love.” At Ginny’s confusion, he pointed across the hall.
Ron stood there, looking at his sister with horror, his red face slowly turning purple. His mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds, then he came stomping over to where the pair was eating breakfast.
“Ginny! What do you think you’re doing? This is the Slytherin table!”
Ginny grinned. “Oh, did you miss the memo, Ron? I’m a Slytherin now, just ask Blaise.”
Ron shifted his gaze to Blaise, who smiled a wide, goofy grin in greeting. “Well, hi!”
Ginny finished her lines with Blaise, and stood there feeling stupid as she waited for the music to start. At long last, a smooth drum roll grew steadily, and Draco began to sing from somewhere beyond Ginny’s line of sight.
“Insolent boy, this slave of fashion,
Basking in your glory.
Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor,
Sharing in my triumph”
Ginny looked around as the harsh music softened, slightly afraid, slightly in awe of this disembodied voice that guided her.
“Angel, I hear you! Speak, I listen.
Stay by my side, guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak; forgive me!
Enter at last, master!”
Three violins came in perfectly with Draco, and were soon joined by three more, building the song back up to what it had been.
“Flattering child, you shall know me,
See why in shadow I hide.
Look at your face in the mirror!
I am there inside.”
The mirror was suddenly no longer there, and Draco stood in its place, holding out his hand to Ginny.
“Angel of music, guide and guardian,
Grant to me your glory!
Angel of music, hide no longer!
Come to me, strange angel!”
Ginny went to him, eyes wide in her face, and fog swirling around her feet.
“I am your angel of music;
Come to me angel of music.”
Blaise banged loudly on the door of the dressing room, yelling, but Ginny was far too seduced by her Phantom to hear.
“Whose is that voice?
Who is that in there?”
“I am your angel of music;
Come to me, angel of music!”
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