Well, after much delay, here is the next update. It's ridiculously long, over 21 pages, and it doesn't really get exciting until the end, so I hope you enjoy it!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8: Reality and the Ideal
“Draco!” Blaise called, spying his best friend’s retreating back as he walked through the main doors of the school. Draco whipped around, his face stony and unreadable.
“What?” he asked, sounding extremely put out for being interrupted at he was preparing to enter the carriage waiting to take him home. Unfazed by his irritated response, Blaise stepped forward, closing the gap between the two.
“Interesting little show you just put on with the Weasley girl,” he said, his voice even. Draco’s face hardened almost imperceptibly – someone who didn’t know him as well as Blaise did would not have been able to see it.
“What difference does it make to you?” Draco asked angrily. “You never get involved. Why now?”
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing with this girl anymore. Bloody hell, you almost cursed her! For what? Refusing to worship the ground you walk on?” Blaise cried out. Draco stepped back, his gray eyes intent and reflecting a deep anger that left Blaise baffled. He strode the three steps’ distance between them.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Draco spat back. “What I’d like to know is what you’re doing. Questioning me like this? Just stay out of it, and we won’t have a problem.”
“Just don’t get the girl killed, alright? Show a little more control, and try to avoid throwing out Unforgivables, will you?” Blaise said, with a deep-suffering sigh. His best friend, glaring at him, ignored his words completely and after climbing into his carriage, left without saying another word.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ginny,” Hermione said, with an intent look in her eyes, “it sounds like Blaise Zabini tried to save you!”
“What do you mean? He just interrupted Malfoy, and I’m not entirely sure he did it purposely. He’d only just arrived, you see,” Ginny scoffed. Saving her from two of Malfoy’s thugs who’d cornered her in an empty class was one thing, but openly interfering, by stepping between her and his best friend? Ginny hardly believed any Slytherin was capable of it, not even Blaise Zabini.
“I’m sure he just made some ridiculous excuse to talk to you in order to interfere without seeming like he was interfering. I’m certain he meant to keep Malfoy from finishing the curse,” she said thoughtfully, flipping through the large textbook she had propped up on their table in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks. Ginny paused, drinking in this new information, feeling an electric thrill run through her at the very possibility that Blaise Zabini could have possibly done what Hermione was suggested he’d done on purpose.
“Do you really think so?” Ginny breathed. Hermione looked up from her textbook, taking in Ginny’s expression as she began to stare off into space. She sighed and then snapped her fingers, bringing Ginny’s attention back to the realm of reality.
“Look at you, mooning over the mere possibility! Honestly, Ginny, I don’t know how someone who has every reason to be completely practical can become such a hopeless romantic over the smallest thing! He just tried to stop that prat Malfoy from using an Unforgivable on you, it’s nothing to start writing poetry about,” she snapped. “And sure, he gave you a handkerchief, but did he even ask you if you were alright?”
“Hermione Granger, you wouldn’t be so quick to judge if you had just a bit of romance in your life,” Ginny declared, annoyed at her friend’s lack of romantic sensibilities. “And do not even try to convince me that your relationship with that Finnegan boy had any semblance of romance about it. I remember your description of your first kiss – stiff and awkward and right outside the owl post office, of all places!”
“It certainly wasn’t romantic, but then, Ginny, most first kisses aren’t. If you ask around, I’m sure you’ll find that most share the same awkward experience,” Hermione laughed.
“I could never settle for anything so incredibly disappointing. You only get one first kiss with someone, and if it were awkward and unromantic, I don’t think I could ever look at that person again, let alone continue dating them. I don’t know how you dated that boy for three months after he kissed in front of an owlery!” Ginny cried passionately. Hermione just looked at her, a sad smile on her face.
“For a girl who grew up in the wizarding world, there hasn’t been much magic in your life, has there, Gin?” Hermione asked softly. “I think that’s why you are such a hopeless romantic and can think that a boy refraining from bullying you is actually romantic. Love isn’t all moonlight and magic fairy gardens – it can be just as ugly and mundane as everything else around us. I just hope that with all these notions and expectations you have about first kisses and such, that you’re not too disappointed with reality.”
“You’re putting far too much thought into this, Hermione,” Ginny said with a laugh, despite the sad light in her eyes. “Can’t we just be teenaged girls who giggle every once in a while about boys and kisses and romance without it having to be a serious reflection on what this world has stolen from us?”
“If you were taking Arithmancy by correspondence, too, you’d be thinking along the same lines, just for a little intellectual stimulation,” Hermione scoffed. “These courses have frightfully low academic expectations.”
Ginny chuckled for Hermione’s benefit, and a companionable silence fell over the two, as Hermione returned to her textbook, and Ginny to her thoughts. She kept replaying the events of the afternoon over in her head, trying to decide whether she believed what Hermione thought about Blaise, that his interference was intentional and calculated to appear casual. It certainly would be very Slytherin of him. Her thoughts slowly shifted from a careful consideration of Blaise Zabini’s motives for helping her to the even more perplexing question of why Draco Malfoy had healed her wrist. As much as she tried to concentrate on the memory of Blaise Zabini stepping between her and Malfoy just as he was about to curse her, the vision kept transforming to the intent expression in Malfoy’s eyes as he gently examined her injured arm. Lost in thought, Ginny absently flexed the fingers of her right hand, rotating her wrist as she did so.
"Is it bothering you at all?" Hermione asked quietly. Ginny, startled out of her thoughts, looked down at her hand, remembering how only a few hours ago, it was hideously swollen, and shook her head.
"No, I’m fine," she answered. Hermione watched her friend carefully as Ginny gazed down at her hand, obviously perplexed. She looked up at Hermione, her brow furrowed. "I just don't know why he did it."
"Why he challenged you to a stupid race when you had a broken broom and led you straight to the Whomping Willow? To get you killed, obviously. Or, is it why he almost used an Unforgivable on you? Or, why he stopped?" Hermione asked acidly, her eyes flashing with anger as she recited the wrongs that Draco Malfoy had conducted against her best friend.
"Why he fixed my wrist," Ginny said softly. "It was so... unusual. He was still a conceited prat the whole time, but he just seemed... different, in the way he spoke to me and such. Almost as if he was looking at me like an equal. But even aside from that, just the fact that he did in the first place. I don't understand it."
"Because he's like a child, Ginny. A spoiled, temperamental child who broke its favorite toy," Hermione said with authority. "The Nott children are exactly like that whenever I look after them. They play too rough with their bloody toy broomsticks, and end up smashing them. At first, they sit there, like they're in shock, as if they can't believe what has just happened. Then, they start to try to fix it - calmly at first, then they get very frantic, and if it doesn't work, they end up tossing a giant tantrum. I really wish their parents would stop repairing them when they come home, it would save me a lot of headaches."
"So I'm Malfoy's favorite toy?" Ginny asked, dryly.
"What he's doing goes beyond just revenge for insulting him. I think he finds you entertaining. I was watching carefully when they were here for that reception, and he was always watching you with this smile on his face. You're a source of entertainment to him, and like a spoiled child, when you ended up with a broken wrist and looked like you weren't going to play any more, he did what he could to fix his favorite toy," Hermione explained, her eyes sparkling with concentration as they always did when her mind was spinning quickly to answer a question. "He wasn't speaking to you as an equal; it's just another example of how he looks down on you."
Ginny was quiet after Hermione finished speaking, her eyes fixed on her wrist. Even with the spell he'd used to heal her, there was still a small bruise where the bone had actually snapped, although it was fading quickly. She'd listened to what Hermione had said, and had to admit to herself that it seemed to fit what she knew about Draco Malfoy. Plus, Hermione was generally always right about just about every subject, so there was no reason to believe that she was wrong. But she hadn't been there, hadn't seen the strange look in his eyes or heard the edged gentleness in his voice. It made her shiver just to think about it.
"Prat or no, I'm relieved he healed my wrist. I couldn’t have worked like that," Ginny said, tearing her eyes away from her wrist and her thoughts away from her most recent encounter with Malfoy.
"You are incredibly lucky you didn't get caught. It would have been the end for you, for goodness knows you'd be blamed," Hermione said, her voice slightly shrill with her indignation. Then you'd better hope, for your sake, that we don't get caught, he'd said, with that tone of amusement in his voice that sounded almost as if he were gently teasing her. Ginny shook her head, trying to expel thoughts of Draco Malfoy from her head, along with the memory of his touch from tingling on her skin.
"Are you going to go to that party?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards the crumpled invitation that lay on the table between them. Ginny sighed heavily, trying to weigh her options. If her world were anything resembling normal, she should have been pleased to be invited to a party, especially by a celebrity and national hero. But the reality of the situation was nothing to be excited about.
"I haven't decided yet. Well, I told Parkinson that I'd go, but that was only because she practically dared me to do it and -"
"-You're far too stubborn and head-strong to turn down any thing you think of as a challenge," Hermione cut in, with a knowing smile.
"She questioned my courage, Hermione! How could I face going to school every day if they think I'm a coward?" Ginny cried. After a pause, with Hermione shaking her head in resigned exasperation, she continued. "Besides, I really would like the chance to talk to Cho Chang, and the opportunity may not come again... and there are other people there who aren't so bad."
"Like Blaise Zabini?" Hermione prodded, and Ginny felt her face burn.
"If it's like you said - if he did actually save me from that curse - then I should at least go and, you know, thank him for it," Ginny said, feeling awkward with embarassment as she struggled to justify the desire to see the handsome boy again.
"I think it would also be a great opportunity for you. Just think - some of the most powerful people in our world are going to be there, you'll get a chance to speak to them, do a little networking, gain an inside into their world. It'll come in handy for you one day," Hermione said with a pointed look.
"My mum would have kittens if she knew what you were suggesting I do," Ginny cried, before checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, and leaned in to whisper. "Cozying up to Slytherins and Death Eaters so I can spy on them? That's the kind of trick they would use. I'd like to think I'm above that."
"And that is exactly why they won the war," Hermione said quietly. "Nothing is above them. They use whatever they can, however they can. If there's ever going to be a chance for the Order to take it back, we need to be more strategic."
"It's devious, slimy and a fairly horrible lie. Befriending these people so that I can use them for information?" Ginny whispered fiercely, her voice filled with disgust. "It was hard enough just pretending I didn't loathe every single one of them and shout out to the world how ridiculous I find them. That's actually the only good thing that has come out of this whole ordeal with Malfoy - I can be myself and say what I like, because even if I don't, I'll still have the same consequences to face, so I might as well just be myself."
"It's just an idea, that's all. If it were me, that is what I would try to do," Hermione said, slightly defensively.
"Well, you're a bit cleverer than I. And good deal more sensible - I'd end up insulting the whole lot of them before too long, and actually worsen my chances to be of any use. If I haven't done that already," Ginny said with an easy smile, leaning back in her chair. Hermione relaxed, and appeared to be about to say something when a large commotion out on the street drew their attention. Frowning, Ginny stood up and walked over to the large store-front windows of the Three Broomsticks, and peered outside. And she felt her heart drop in panic at what she saw. Blood began to pound in her head as the adrenaline began to surge throughout her body. There was a group of about 10 men, dressed in dark robes, wearing hoods and masks. Death Eaters.
She rushed back to her table, barely slowing down as she grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her along with her as she dashed towards the back of the restaurant, ignoring Hermione's protests and questions as she ran. She didn't stop until they were crossed into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut behind her.
"Ginny, what's gotten into you?" Hermione demanded. Ginny waved her question away, peering cautiously through the door's window, feeling her heart beat furiously in her chest. She leaned her ear against the door, and felt a bolt of fear as she heard a number of cries and the smashing of glass out in the street. She turned to look at Hermione, and the older girl could tell by the intensely worried look in her friend's eyes and the panic – bordering on hysteria, that this was something very serious.
"Do you have all your papers here?" Ginny asked frantically. "Because you'd better run and get them." The kitchen staff, who had been busy preparing for that night's dinner service, had stopped when they had burst into the kitchen, and upon Ginny's question, they all started to scatter, dashing towards their lockers or Rosmerta's office, where many of them kept their copies of the important licensing and bloodline papers, which had to be produced on the demand of any "governmental official." Death Eaters who had earned their Marks and Hoods were classified as "governmental officials" and often went around, raiding the village, searching for Muggle-born witches or wizards who were violating the strict restrictions of magical use that were enforced on them.
"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide with panic. She was the only non-pureblood who was employed at the Three Broomsticks, and even if she had all her papers in order, if they entered the restaurant, it would undoubtedly mean trouble for her. Before Ginny could say anything, she heard a magnificent crash out in the lobby accompanied by the shattering of glass and the cacophonous crash of silverware as it fell to the ground.
"Someone find Rosmerta!" Ginny hollered behind her, as she peered out the window, and saw the terrifying sight of six or seven Death Eaters standing in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by a few over-turned tables and an absolute mess of dishes and utensils, outfitted in their full regalia. Madame Rosmerta, as the owner and proprietor of the most popular restaurant in Hogsmeade, had quite a bit of influence that became useful in these types of raids. Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm as the two girls, standing on their tip-toes, strained to see what was happening. An echo of screams had them whipping around, seeing three hooded Death Eaters marching through the kitchen, the kitchen staff scattering out their way, especially as they were roughly leading Rosmerta out in front of them, pushing her along as she muttered about the inconvenience and the mess.
"You lot of trolls had better ensure that my establishment is returned to its proper state before you march yourselves out of here, and I expect to see every Sickle of the cost to replace my damaged property," she stated adamantly, even as the three large men - made even more intimidating by their hidden faces and long dark robes that an entire generation had grown up terrified of seeing - forced her along. As they passed, Ginny grabbed Hermione and they ducked behind a counter, and watched in horror as they pushed her forward.
"Order all of your staff out here now. We need to see their papers," one of the Death Eaters demanded gruffly. Ginny felt nauseous as she recognized his voice - he was one of their regular customers, who usually behaved like a decent human being; he was polite, soft-spoken and tipped well. In a bizarre moment of detachment, she wondered what it was about those hoods that could take the most decent person and turn them into a horrible creature filled with hate that is capable of doing such terrible things. Of course, she mused to herself, completely lost in the moment, any decent person would never agree to take the Hood in the first place.
The terrified kitchen staff started to file out of the kitchen, all holding their papers in their hands. One of the Death Eaters stomped towards where Hermione and Ginny were crouching, and looming over them, demanded that they start moving. Ginny, snapped back into the reality and the extreme danger of the moment, stood up, and managed to catch Rosmerta's eye through the door from where she was standing. Rosmerta was looking fiercely at Ginny, and almost imperceptibly, motioned her head towards them. Ginny realized with a start what Rosmerta was trying to tell her - to distract them, to keep their attention away from Hermione.
The Death Eater that had come over to them grabbed them each by the shoulder and pushed them out into the main part of the restaurant, ordering everyone to sit on the ground while they inspected their papers. Hermione shot Ginny a nervous glance, but Ginny just shook her head. She knew the clever girl wouldn't go anything stupid or unwise, especially not in this potentially dangerous situation, but she knew, far better than most, how scared she had to be.
They were going down the line, demanding to see everyone's Magical License and Bloodline Certificates. The leader of their group was interrogating each member of the staff while his henchmen began searching around the restaurant, as if Rosmerta was hiding someone.
"What has brought all this on?" Rosmerta demanded haughtily, watching with furious eyes as one lumbering Death Eater overturned a table, sending it flying with a splintering crash. "I have never given anyone cause to question my loyalty or accuse me of being involved in any criminal activities."
"Escaped convict, Rosmerta, that's all. No one's sure how he managed to escape, so we can't take any chances. He might be able to disguise himself, so no one can really be trusted," one explained, sounding apologetic. "The Dark Lord is absolutely livid and has ordered us all to search every house in Hogsmeade."
"This is most certainly not a house," Rosmerta commented coldly.
"He could be hiding among your staff without you even knowing it," he tried to explain, but she just shook her head in disgust. Seeming chastised, he continued with his interrogations, his tone becoming brusque and rough.
"Papers," he barked at Hermione when he reached where the girls were crouching. Hermione hesitantly reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded pieces of parchment that could mean her life if she ever left her home without them. Bloodline prejudice was a serious threat to anyone who wasn't born to wizarding parents. He snatched them, unfolding the parchment. Ginny watched his eyes scan down the paper, and even with the mask on his face, she could tell the second he read that Hermione had Muggle parents.
"Mudblood, are you? Rosmerta, I'm shocked you'd allow such a thing to work in your restaurant, where she could contaminate your patrons!" he grunted, catching the attention of the other Death Eaters, who stopped rummaging through the dining room, and began to form a little circle around Hermione, their eyes sparkling cruelly behind their masks. Hermione's hand had clutched for Ginny's arm, squeezing it tightly as she stood her ground, looking up at them with a neutral expression, doing her hardest not to betray her fear. The terror in the room had increased exponentially.
"She's an adequate waitress, despite her lack of finer qualities. Besides, what pureblood of any worth would lower themselves to wait on others?" Rosmerta asked with a pointed smile, and her signature charm. They ignored her, and another one of the Death Eaters reached down and grabbed Hermione by the arm, pulling her to her feet, causing her to yelp in surprise and pain. Ginny bolted to her feet, ready to throw herself between her best friend and these terrible men, but luckily for them all, their attention was drawn away by a terrific crash from out in the street, followed by a series of screams, shouting voices and a barking dog.
Cursing under his breath, the Death Eater who had grabbed Hermione released her suddenly, and she dropped to the floor, falling backwards, and stalked towards the door. He threw her papers down to the floor as he crossed the threshold. The others followed behind him, their heavy boots crunching on the broken glass.
"If you see or hear any of your employees doing anything that is even slightly out of the ordinary, you will contact us at once. There's no telling where this fugitive could be hiding," one ordered, before following the rest. As soon as they were gone, and Rosmerta had shut and locked the door behind them, quickly drawing the blinds, the entire staff breathed a giant sight of relief.
Ginny, standing in the middle of the dining room, felt a surge of anger. Eyeing her brilliant friend, who was now trembling as she crouched on the floor, recovering from that fright, having been targeted merely for whom her parents were, then turning to take in all the damage and havoc they'd wreaked on Rosmerta's carefully decorated restaurant, Ginny was overcome with the incredible injustice of it all. Hermione's earlier words rang through her head. "And that is exactly why they won the war...Nothing is above them, they use whatever they can however they can. If there's ever going to be a chance for the Order to take it back, we need to be more strategic."
"Hermione," Ginny said, crouching down next to her after picking up her papers where they’d been tossed by the Death Eater, "I need your help."
"With what?" she asked with a shaky smile, trying to show her concerned friend that she was alright.
"I need you to help me pick out an outfit for Cho Chang's party tomorrow."
It was time to get be a little more strategic.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In front of her was quite possibly the most incredible building she’d ever seen in her entire life. The rich neighborhoods that surrounded the Hogsmeade city proper were an area that Ginny usually avoided as much as possible, mostly because it increased her chances of running into someone she greatly disliked, and therefore, she wasn’t really all that familiar with the pompous display of wealth that seemed to be a prerequisite for any building in that area. Standing at the gates of the Chang mansion, Ginny was awestruck by the level of luxury that was apparent. Wrought iron gates, a massive expanse of luscious gardens and rolling green lawns stood between her and the front door. Squinting in the dark, Ginny tried to estimate how many bedrooms the mansion contained, but shrouded the way it was by nightfall, there was no way to tell.
Looking around her furtively, Ginny stashed her broom – mended so that it was at least able to fly, thanks to a clever charm Hermione had found in one of her many books – in the bushes that surrounded the stone walls near the gate. Just as she was double-checking to ensure that she had her invitation with her, knowing that there would be nothing but problems for her should she forget it, the gates swung open, and a carriage with shaded windows turned up the long driveway. Ginny followed behind them, her eyes wide with wonder as stared up at the house ahead of her, tugging at her outfit uncomfortably as she went. Pansy had said it was a casual occasion, but despite this, she and Hermione had spent hours poring over both of their wardrobes, before finally settling on what they believed “casual” meant for a Slytherin occasion. Under her cloak, Ginny wore a simple black skirt, a beautiful emerald green silk top that Hermione had loaned her, and at Hermione’s insistence, a rather delicate pair of shoes with a decent yet still sensible two inch heel. After wrestling with her long hair for about twenty minutes, they’d just let it lay loose, shaping a few curls to frame her face.
Holding her breath, Ginny rang the door bell and waited, steeling herself for all manner of greetings she may receive. An unusually distinguished-looking house elf answered the door, and after spotting the invitation in her hand, ushered her through the main hall, and into what he called the ballroom. Ginny had been too busy gaping at the marble floors, gilded portraits on the wall and the spectacular crystal chandelier that hung over the magnificent staircase to notice the disdain that was clearly evident on the house elf’s face as he took in her outfit. Before showing her through the door, he relieved her of her cloak, and hustled her through the door, before she even had a chance to check and see if the mascara and lip gloss Rosmerta had advised her to wear was smudged.
It seemed she had made her entrance during a lull in the music, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor seemed to draw the attention of the occupants of the room. She was standing in front of a crowd of about 300 people, who were all staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. After the few seconds that it took for her to recover from the shock, Ginny realized why. Everyone in the room was decked out in very formal dress robes and she was incredibly underdressed. Feeling her face burn with embarrassment, Ginny fought the urge to escape through the door behind her, and forced herself to step forward. Luckily, at that moment, the orchestra began to play again, and slowly, the eyes that were staring at her found other things to focus their attention on.
“Weasley, what on earth are you wearing? I understand that you’re a bit of a whore, but there is no need to advertise the fact that you’re a classless cheap whore,” Pansy Parkinson said dryly, even as she smirked at Ginny. Parkinson was wearing beautiful dress robes in a pale pink silk, and knowing her parents’ connections, Ginny had no doubt they were custom made by a famous designer.
“You did tell me that it was a casual event,” Ginny said, forcing a bright smile as a few older wizards walked past, nodding in greeting towards Pansy.
“I had no idea you’d take me seriously! I was only joking. Imagine a casual party for the World Championship Quidditch team hosted by the Changs? Unbelievable!” Pansy chortled.
“Which one of us is really the one without any class?” Ginny fumed under her breath. The smirk on Pansy’s face slowly faded, replaced by anger, indicating that she’d heard what Ginny had said. She opened her mouth, preparing to fling another nasty comment, but a chorus of gasps ran through the crowd, and her attention was drawn the entrance. Ginny followed her gaze, and stiffened significantly as Draco Malfoy, followed by his two brainless minions, Crabbe and Goyle, entered the ballroom. As the other guests cleared a path for them as they walked past, Ginny started when Malfoy’s eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly, determined to avoid making eye contact, even as her heat began to beat wildly. She was still feeling rather raw from their encounter the day before, and had skived off her classes that day just to avoid having to see him, and was not prepared to have to deal with him quite yet.
“Even though Cho hasn’t made her entrance yet, the party has really started now. Don’t get caught trying to lift any of the silverware, Weasel,” Pansy chortled, before she trotted off, swaying precariously on her ridiculous spiked heels. Breathing a sigh of relief as she felt a bit of the tension in her shoulders drain away, as Malfoy and his groupies had passed her by without any incident, Ginny looked around. Everyone in the room was standing in little groups, talking amongst themselves, and none looked even vaguely inviting. Standing alone in the room rather awkwardly, she tried to find something to occupy herself.
She spotted Crabbe and Goyle leaning rather conspicuously against one of the marble pillars that were interspersed throughout the room. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she watched as Goyle acted as a look-out while Crabbe levitated an object before affixing it, out of sight for anyone who wasn’t watching them, to the pillar. Smiling wickedly at each other once their task was complete, they slyly walked away, without drawing any attention from any other guests, who were far too occupied with schmoozing with each other to notice. Curious, Ginny walked towards the pillar, trying to figure out what it was they’d placed up there and what they had planned. When she finally got close enough to see what it was, she nearly started to laugh herself.
She remembered the disastrous Christmas, before she’d started attending Hogwarts, when the twins had unveiled their first device in the art of practical jokes. A fairly innocuous piece of mistletoe had hung over the doorway, but little did everyone know that it had been charmed with a surprisingly powerful bit of magic that forced any two people standing underneath for longer than a few seconds to kiss. Three incidents later, including one with Aunt Mildred and her famous Bat Bogey Hex – which she’d since passed on to Ginny, figuring as the only girl in a family of boys, she’d need the advantage, and her mum had finally discovered what was causing all the spontaneous snogging. And now, before her very eyes, was that same product. She could tell by shape, size and the fact that the berries were distinctly orange in color. They’d mentioned looking around to find a vendor for it, and she guessed they must have found one, if Crabbe and Goyle had managed to get their hands on it.
She was busy giggling fondly to herself, remembering the giant row her mum and the twins had had after she’d discovered what they’d invented (even though most would consider it amazing, given the advanced magic they’d figured out at their young age), when a young lady was about to pass under it at the same time as an older wizard, whom she recognized as one of the more lecherous guests at the party she’d hostessed for Malfoy. Without even thinking, she grabbed her arm, pulling her back just in the nick of time.
“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Ginny said knowingly. By a sheer stroke of luck, Millicent Bulstrode also happened to be nearby, and was the unfortunate victim of the charmed mistletoe as it worked its magic, to the complete astonishment of the old man. “See?”
“How did you know that was going to happen?” the girl asked with a shocked laugh. Her words were spoken in very careful English, and even though her accent was almost spot-on, Ginny could tell that English was not her first language. Smiling back at her, Ginny pointed up near the top of the pillar.
“It’s someone’s idea of a practical joke. It’s charmed to work on any two people who happen to be caught underneath it at the same time,” Ginny said. The girl laughed again, her deep blue eyes wide with amusement as they both watched a flustered Millicent Bulstrode attempt to regain her composure as the outraged wizard demanded an explanation. A quick glance at her new companion revealed that she was a rather glamorous witch, wearing incredible dress robes in a mint green and was glittering from the jewels at her wrist and throat, and Ginny expected her to excuse herself before she was caught talking to the underdressed witch who obviously didn’t belong.
“I thank you very much from preventing me from experiencing its effects first hand,” she said emphatically, before holding out her hand for Ginny to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Angelique Aristide. And you are?”
“Ginny Weasley. It’s nice to meet you,” Ginny said, pretending that she wasn’t completely shocked, especially as she recognized her surname. Aristide was one of the most prominent wizarding families in France – a magical line descended from French nobility! And she was talking to little Ginny Weasley as if she were an actual person!
“Ginny, why don’t you come with me and meet a few friends of mine? I’m sure they’d love to be warned about that little trick,” Angelique suggested. Ginny stared at her in open shock for about a second, before she remembered her decision to become more strategic before smiling and agreeing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As her captive audience's laughter filled her ears, Ginny was having such a good time she almost didn't stop to consider how surreal the whole situation had been; how easy it had been to be standing, feeling like a complete outsider, one moment, to be surrounded by 9 or 10 people who comprised the next generation of the most powerful people in her world. Angelique had indeed introduced her to a group of her friends - a group of people who did not attend Hogwarts and had no idea who she was. After Angelique had recounted her story of how Ginny had saved her from certain mortification, they had demanded to know how she had recognized the joke in progress. Before she really knew it, she had recounted the entire Christmas Incident, as well as a litany of other exploits she'd collected over the years, her family being the constant subject of their experiments. They were simply devouring everything she had to say, laughing uncontrollably at her imitation of Ron's reaction to the time the twins had changed his teddy bear into a spider, and she felt strangely exhilarated by their attention to her. It was almost intoxicating, the feeling of acceptance, and even admiration from a group of people who, if she had met them at school, would normally have shunned her.
“You are quite the interesting character, Miss Ginny Weasley,” Daniel Jacobs, a seventh year from Durmstrang, said with a flirtatious smile, leaning closer to her. Ginny threw her head back and laughed, unable to contain the giddy energy that this situation was sending coursing through her veins.
“Yes, she is quite the interesting character. Surely you’ve all heard about Ginny Weasley, the dirt poor blood traitor who tries to disguise herself as a respectable Hogwarts students while prostituting herself just to pay her tuition?” the sneering voice of Pansy Parkinson called out, causing an shocked laugh to travel throughout the group. Ginny’s smile faded as she turned to glare at Pansy, who’d pushed her way through the circle of people who had gathered around Ginny and was wearing a satisfied smirk on her face. A quick glance around the group indicated that Pansy’s words had struck a chord with most of them, and they were all looking at completely differently now. She glared at Pansy, her blood boiling even as her face burned with the same feeling of shame she’d felt the day those posters had been hung around the school.
“Ah, so it was you who was responsible for the poster and those pictures,” Ginny said, her voice calm and falsely bright, determined to maintain some semblance of a cheerful demeanor and not lose her temper, given her current audience. “It was so incredibly unimaginative and tacky; I should have known it could only have come from you.”
She felt a flare of triumph as Pansy’s face turned purple as Angelique erupted into giggles and felt some of her previous giddy energy return. She saw Millicent Bulstrode striding toward their group, moving in to stand behind Pansy, apparently having recovered from the mistletoe incident.
“You deserved it,” Pansy spat at her. Ginny felt her irritation flare, and her desire to keep her genial candor faded as her temper clouded her common sense.
“In what possible way could I have deserved having lies that questioned my reputation? I’ve never done anything to you!” Ginny cried. Pansy’s eyes were practically snapping at her, she was glaring at Ginny so fiercely.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just the fact that you walk around my school like you have a right to be there. The fact that you’re here right now when you’re nothing more than common street trash offends me. And I've seen the way you moon over Blaise Zabini, and I can't stand it!" Pansy declared, taking another step towards Ginny. The crowd around them was starting to grow, curious about the scene that Ginny was causing. "You have no idea the lengths that girls like us go to attract his attention and for a girl like you to think you are even in the same league is disgusting!"
"Strangely enough, Parkinson, I feel exactly the same way. Just the thought of being grouped into the same category as a girl like you is enough to make me ill," Ginny answered stonily, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment at her insinuation that she 'mooned' over Blaise Zabini.
"Your pathetic efforts to win his attention by making him feel sorry for your pathetic life are completely in vain. He already has a girlfriend; someone like you could never even dream of competing against her," Millicent Bulstrode shrieked. Pansy cut a vicious glance at her friend for interrupting, before turning back towards Ginny with triumphant eyes. A murmur had run through the crowd, starting by the entrance, working its way to where they were standing,
"Look, you can see them together right now," Pansy said triumphantly, as Ginny turned to see what was causing the commotion. The celebrity of the hour, Cho Chang, had just entered the ballroom on the arm of none other than Blaise Zabini. Pansy moved in beside Ginny as she craned her neck to see them walk past. "How could he ever notice something like you when he's in love with a girl like that?"
Ginny felt as if she'd been struck in the stomach, and it had nothing to do with what Pansy was saying. Her eyes were fixed on Blaise, looking as handsome as ever in his black dress robes. But it was the magnificent smile on his face, and the soft glow about his eyes that really had her attention. In that moment, as he smiled down at Cho Chang, looking fantastic in her red silk dress robes, the shroud of mystery that was always around him seemed to have faded away completely, and what he was thinking and feeling at that exact second in time was clear for everyone to see. And that was that he only had eyes for Cho, and could probably care less about every other person in the world, so long as she was the one beside him.
Until that moment, she’d largely felt that her little crush on Blaise Zabini was nothing more than that – simple admiration for the quiet and beautiful boy who’d shown her some small amount of kindness despite the fact that his natural predilection should have been to sneer at her, like the rest of his group of friends. But the way her stomach twisted when she saw this whole other side of him was an instant of realization. She wanted him to look at her that way, and it was an utter shock to realize that when she was watching him stare at such a beautiful girl who could very well be the love of his life.
A stunning sensation of cold dropping suddenly on her head made her shriek in surprise, twisting around to see Pansy’s nasty smirk as she held an empty glass in her hand. Sticky liquid was running down Ginny’s neck and dripping into her eyes, splashing to the floor around her, as Pansy had emptied the contents of her drink over her head.
“How very clumsy of you! You should really be going – it wouldn’t be very wise of you to stick around the party looking like that, you know. Although, it is an improvement on that outfit,” Pansy laughed nastily, as Ginny looked down, almost blinded by rage, at the vivid green silk shirt that was now stained. She was about to open her mouth to start shouting at Pansy, but the older girl snapped at her before she could. “Don’t make a scene and ruin Cho’s party, Weasel!”
She took a quick glance around her; the group of people that had been her appreciative audience not ten minutes before were now looking at her with varying looks of amusement, horror or pity. She could barely raise her head to meant Angelique’s eyes, not wanting to see what she was thinking about this whole mess. Her eyes caught for a moment as she spotted Draco Malfoy striding towards the huddled crowd purposefully, and she felt herself stiffened immediately as she met his eyes for a split second. But that split second was enough to remind her of what had happened earlier - the challenge he’d issued and the unfortunate results their race around the Whomping Willow had had for her. And as terrible as it had been, it didn’t compare to this, because then, she’d been fighting back. But now, she was standing there, letting bloody Pansy Parkinson push her around without even reacting with anything more than a few sarcastic comments? The hell with that! She’d just pulled out her wand, her mind searching through its catalogue of curses trying to find something suitable for the sneering girl when the cool and completely disarming voice of Blaise Zabini caused a complete shutdown of her high brain functions and cognitive abilities.
“Weasley. You’re looking a little damp,” he said, causing her to jump, surprised to find him behind her. She gaped at him stupidly, unsure of what to say. She just nodded, more aware than ever of the many pairs of eyes that were on her, especially because they now included his.
“Pansy! I’m so glad you could make it to the party,” Cho Chang’s voice rang out, as she stepped into the middle of the crowd, carrying a large champagne bottle with her. Pansy’s face instantly shifted from her nasty glare in Ginny’s direction to a mask of sweetness. “I was just looking around for someone to help me out with something. Would you mind?”
“Oh, of course not Cho! Anything you need!” Pansy said, practically tripping over herself, her efforts to embarrass and harass Ginny completely forgotten as she basked in Cho’s attention.
“I was just about to make a toast, in honor of my teammates and our successful year. Could you just hold this glass for me while I open the bottle? It’s being a little difficult,” Cho said, handing Pansy a crystal champagne flute while continuing to fiddle with the champagne bottle, shaking it around as she tried in vain to pop the cork out. Ginny stepped back from the scene upon seeing, to her shock, Cho wink at her. Then, without warning, the cork popped right out of the bottle in an explosion of liquid erupted forth, spraying anyone who happened to be in its path – such as the unfortunately positioned Pansy Parkinson. Laughing in surprise as she held the bottle away from her body as the carbonated liquid sprayed directly into Pansy’s face as her shrieks filled the air, Cho met Ginny’s eyes as she gave her a sly grin.
Handing the bottle off to a rather frazzled-looking house elf once the eruption had tapered off, Cho grabbed Ginny by the arm.
“Thanks Pansy, you were a great help,” she called over her shoulder, as she lead Ginny away from the scene. Giving Ginny an appraising look, who was still feeling slightly shocked, she smiled. “Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up a bit. Can’t have you feeling out of place because of a wanker like Pansy.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Thank you,” Ginny said sincerely from behind a silk dressing screen. Her eyes had practically bugged out of her head as Cho had led her up to her bedroom, ushering her into the shower to clean the sticky liquid out of her hair, then ordering her behind the screen as she tossed dozens of dress robes over to the overwhelmed girl, declaring that she wanted to find suitably “fabulous” for her to make up for the rude actions of her guest. “I mean, for what you did to Pansy.”
“It’s something I’ve been waiting to do for years now! The only reason I’ve been friends with her is because I’ve done some modeling for her mother’s fashion line. But this season’s designs are just terrible, so that’s no longer a concern,” Cho said, her laughter a delicate tinkling-type noise. She threw another set of robes over the screen to Ginny. “Try that one! I think it might be perfect!”
Ginny picked up the brilliant green fabric, a beautiful green color that reminded her of the very green grass in the summer. Holding it out in front of her, she drew a shaky breath as she examined it. It was made a flowing, silky fabric, and was an elegant take on a Grecian toga. Slipping into it, she admired the way it wrapped around her, falling in folds to the ground from the waist, where a golden cord twisted about her torso, cinching the dress at her waist. She took a few tentative steps out from behind the silk screen, reveling in the feel of the dress as it trailed behind her, the filmy material swaying as she moved.
“Definitely perfect. Come look at yourself!” Cho cried out, her eyes wide with pleasure, dragging Ginny over to the full length mirror. “Oh Ginny, it’s fantastic!”
Ginny was trying to speak, to articulate just how much she appreciated her help, but she was too busy staring at herself. Unable to believe that the girl standing in such an amazing set of dress robes which cost more than two year’s tuition to Hogwarts, looking very much like she belonged in ancient Greece, was actually her, she just stared blankly at her. Cho was behind her, smiling indulgently at her amazement.
“It’s the perfect color for you,” she said, glancing at the range of black dresses she’d laid out as possibilities disdainfully. “You are definitely not a simple black dress. From everything Blaise has told me about you, you could be nothing other than a brilliantly colored one-of-a-kind dress.”
“I don’t know what Blaise has told you about me,” Ginny cried out, laughing. She watched Cho walk over to her closet, searching through the many shelves of shoes, trying to pick out a pair to match the dress.
“He’s told me quite a bit. That’s why I really wanted to meet you, it’s so rare that he ever talks about any of the girls he meets,” Cho said distractedly. Ginny felt her stomach leap into her throat, the thrill of excitement overwhelming her senses. “That’s how I know you had to be really unusual. And he was right, you are rather full of spirit and you have a very honest nature about you.”
“He said that?” Ginny breathed. Cho turned around, smiling at her as she handed her a flat pair of sandals that were so delicate, they looks as though they were nothing more than a few strips of tan leather to hold the sole to her foot.
“I think these will be perfect – very earthy. It will go quite nicely with the Greek thing we’ve got going on. I think we should leave your hair alone – it’s so lovely loose, and use just a small touch of makeup,” she said, motioning for Ginny to put the shoes on. Ginny slid them on to her foot, and remarked at how well they fit. Cho grabbed her arm, and led her towards the vanity table.
“This dress, these shoes… it’s all so incredible,” Ginny said, still overwhelmed by Cho’s comments regarding Blaise Zabini and what he’d said about her. “I really appreciate how kind you’re being.”
“Really, I owe you a favor. I worry about Blaise sometimes, especially when I’m so far away from him all the time, traveling with the team or with other commitments. He’s always been such a serious boy, and he avoids interacting with people far too much, especially girls. You seem to have broken through that shell of his a bit, which makes me very happy,” she said, laying out an array of cosmetics for Ginny to choose from. Ginny was far too distracted by her words to notice anything else. It sounded as if Cho was thanking her for spending time with Blaise, which given the way they were looking at each other as they’d walked into the ballroom, seemed rather odd to Ginny. If Blaise was her boyfriend, she wouldn’t want any other girl to get too close to him, especially if she had to be away from him a lot like Cho was.
“He talks about you a lot, too,” Ginny said tentatively. Cho paused, her dark eyes growing serious as she smiled sadly.
“He’s a really good friend. I hope he can find himself a nice girl to look after him after I leave again,” she said, her voice soft. Ginny frowned, surprised, but if Cho noticed her facial expression, she ignored it. “There, I think you’re ready!”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Not exactly the elegant affair Cho’s parents had in mind,” Goyle laughed, watching as yet another unsuspecting couple paused for a split second too long under the trick mistletoe they’d planted.
“Keeps it from being dull, mate. Did you catch the scene with the Weasel girl and Cho earlier? They really got Pansy!” Crabbe asked Draco, his voice enthusiastic, trying to drag his friend out of the gloomy stoicism that had been hanging around him for over a day. Draco was leaning idly against a marble pillar, glaring alternately across the room where Blaise was busy speaking to Cho’s parents and to the grand entranceway, as if he were waiting for someone to arrive.
“Why hasn’t Blaise come over here at all?” Goyle asked Draco pointedly. His friend glared at him coldly, and returned to watching the doors. “Did you two have a row or something? Haven’t seen you two talk at all since that other day by the Whomping Willow.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Draco mumbled, sounding bored. At that moment, the doors swung open, and Cho entered, leading a very reluctant-looking Ginny Weasley into the ballroom. Draco’s demeanor changed instantly, as he straightened up and his face lit up.
The Weasley girl was walking tentatively down the steps, wearing a bright green set of dress robes whose filmy material whispered behind her as she walked. Her bright hair was a tumble of loose curls framing her face, and her eyes seemed to glow brightly. The combination of the bright-colored dress, the brightness of her hair and the way the material moved against her body drew many an admiring glance from the males in the room.
Goyle and Crabbe looked at each other in confusion, as they had both noticed the way that Draco’s eyes had locked onto the girl as soon as she’d entered, and how completely unaware he was that anything else existed, for he only had eyes for her.
“This is going to be interesting,” Crabbe said lowly, eliciting a sly grin from Goyle.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This must be what Cinderella felt like, Ginny thought to herself as she walked into the ballroom alongside Cho. Walking in the first time, surrounded by such a beautiful place and walking into a party filled with people who’d probably spit at her if they met her on the street had been completely surreal, but this time, dressed so finely, was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. All eyes were on her as she and Cho entered. She had no doubt that the majority of the people were trying to figure out who she was, but she felt a thrill when she realized that at least a few of the glances were admiring. The whole thing felt like a dream.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and stood awkwardly for a moment, as the crowd remained still, watching as if waiting for something to happen. She saw Blaise Zabini pushing through the crowd, making his way over to Cho, and she looked away, blushing as she remembered what Cho had told her he’d said about her.
“Weasley!” he exclaimed, his voice low despite the surprise in his voice. He paused on his way over to the radiantly beaming Cho Chang, his dark eyes taking in the sight of Ginny Weasley wearing a magnificent dress. “You look really nice.”
Her heart soared to dizzying heights at his compliment, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. The fact that she was, despite the way she was currently dressed, a complete outsider and that come Monday morning, her dreary life at Hogwarts would return to normal once again – nothing mattered. It all just fell away.
“Zabini!” an irritated voice called out, snapping her out of her reverie. A chill ran down her spine as she spotted Draco Malfoy, his face a stony mask of anger, pushing through the circle of people around them.
“What’s the problem, Malfoy? You disagree?” Blaise asked with a wry smile.
“I happen to think the weasel looked better covered in mud, but that’s beside the point,” Malfoy said, stepping forward slowly, his movements seemingly casual but there was a strain of tension and barely contained anger behind them. Ginny felt her temper ignite at his casual insult. “The problem is the fact that you’re talking to her. You know I sent her a Howler. Who gave you permission to talk to her?”
“I’m not one of your brainless followers, Malfoy. I do what I please,” Blaise said, his voice deadly calm. Ginny, who moments before had felt giddying heights of joy, was now filled with horror. She was watching the only boy who’d ever really been nice to her argue with his best friend – because of her.
“Draco, as usual, you’re being frightfully obtuse and stubborn about this. Just agree with Blaise about how cute Ginny looks, and we can all get back to enjoying the party,” Cho suggested brightly, trying to dispel the sudden tension that filled the room. The stare-down between Blaise and Malfoy was interrupted as Malfoy turned to Cho, his eyes full of rage.
“I won’t let you speak to me like that, even if you are Cho Chang,” he said angrily.
“And I,” Blaise said, his voice commanding, stepping in front of Cho, “will not let you speak to her that way.”
“Stop interfering in matters that have nothing to do with you!” Malfoy spat.
“I’ll stop interfering once you stop acting like a mindless idiot,” Blaise said, his voice remarkably calm, still maintaining the neutral tone it always carried. Despite its neutrality, Malfoy apparently took his words the wrong way. His face flushing red, he pushed his best friend backwards. Blaise, obviously surprised, stumbled backwards a bit, as a chorus of shocked whispered filled the room.
Ginny had seen enough. Stomping forward, heedless of Cho’s delicate sandals that were on her feet and the yards of fabric that trailed after her, she marched over to the two quarreling idiots, and planted herself between them before Blaise could recover and retaliate, even as Malfoy took another step towards his friend, an intent look in his eyes. She intercepted him, and pushed him back as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, and stared at her with a look of anger and surprise on his face. Facing Malfoy, whose eyes were filled with anger, she crossed her arms and stuck her chin out in defiance as she moved closer to him, blocking him against a marble pillar, trying to put his own intimidation tactics to use against him.
“Once again, you bloody idiot, you’ve gotten it all wrong,” she cried out. “The person you have the problem with here is me, not bloody Blaise Zabini and quarreling with him just makes you look like an ass.”
Malfoy stared down at her with a queer look on his face. Too late, she realized why. Looking above her in horror, she spotted the trick mistletoe hanging so innocuously above them. Feeling panicked, her met Malfoy’s, who had a look on his face that indicated that he was at least as equally horrified as she was. She could feel the spell take effect, propelling her forward even as she struggled against it. Within the blink of an eye, before her mind could properly grasp what she was doing and fight against the spell, she’d leaned against him, lifted her face towards his as his hands reached up to her face, guiding her. His face moved towards hers, and she closed her eyes tightly, willing this nightmare to end. She felt his lips press against hers while she struggled internally force her body to pull away, but the spell was too strong and she was unable to do anything but stand still as he kissed her.
After two seconds, the spell dissipated and she was able to move of her own free will. Jumping away from each other as if they’d been burned, Ginny took little comfort in the fact that he appeared as appalled as she felt. She backed away, her eyes locked on his, her heart pounding in her chest, barely able to breathe. She could hear everyone around them laughing in shock and the whispered comments as their audience tried to understand what had just happened. Tearing her eyes away from his intent gaze, she looked around her, at all the eyes on her that had just witnessed the horrible series of events that had just culminated in her very first kiss, courtesy of a piece of bloody spelled mistletoe.
She fled the room, pushing her way through the crowd, desperate to get away from it all; the staring, the mocking laughter, but most of all, that pair of grey eyes that were staring at her so intently, looking almost apologetically.
“Did you see the way she threw herself at Draco Malfoy? I never believed what those posters said about her, but now, I can’t be sure,” she heard a snide voice comment as she rushed past. She found the first set of doors she could find, and throwing them open, bursting outinto the cold night air.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her hasty retreat through the first door she could find had led her outdoors, to one of the Changs’ many gardens. Gasping for breath, placing a shaking hand against her stomach, she looked around her, trying to figure out where she was on their grounds, so that she could blast her way through the hedge out on the street, where she would grab her broken broom and fly as far away from this place as possible. Placing a hand against the smooth marble wall, she leaned against it, needing the support as her knees had grown weak. Her stomach was churning sickeningly, and the very fact that she couldn’t figure out if it was horror or something else completely that was affecting her so deeply did not make her feel any better. That instant, that terrible split-second that had destroyed the perfect image she’d always had about how her first kiss would take place, was replaying through her mind, making it harder to breath even as the cool air caressed her burning skin.
Hermione’s words of warning ran through her head, the way she’d warned her not to become too attached to her romantic notions because real life hardly ever turned out the way one would imagine it, and as her own hopes came crashing down around her, Ginny realized that she was right. “Love isn’t all moonlight and magic fairy gardens – it can be just as ugly and mundane as everything else around us,” Hermione had said. “I just hope that with all these notions and expectations you have about first kisses and such, that you’re not too disappointed with reality.” Well, Hermione had been correct, as always. Reality was terribly disappointing. Feeling tears begin to burn behind her eyes, she exhaled slowly, trying to dispel them. Something as stupid as not taking place the way she’d always hoped was nothing to cry about after all, she kept trying to tell herself.
That was how Draco found her, after he’d followed her out of the ballroom, leaning against the wall, gasping with a hand pressed against her stomach, obviously upset. She’d found her way to the most boasted-about feature of the Changs’ estate – one of the last inhabited fairy gardens in Europe, which explained the way the bushes and trees were lit with soft white light, as the tiny magical creatures emanated a bright glow as they flitted about, from tree to flower. Standing with her back to him, he was struck by the total effect: the soft way the moonlight was reflecting off her bright hair, the way the light of the fairies illuminated the brilliant color of her dress. Looking around him, he decided that this was as good a place as any. He’d seen the devastated look in her eyes once the spell had run its course and they’d regained control of their bodies, and the way it had made him feel uncomfortably guilty had compelled him to follow her out there.
His footsteps as he moved towards her caught her attention, and she turned around, caught off guard. The second she set eyes on him, she started backing away. He paused, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes serious as they met hers. Her heart immediately began to race, and she cursed the talent Draco Malfoy had for continually catching her while she was in her most vulnerable state. She could the feel the tears that had been threatening her earlier welling in her eyes, and she struggled to regain her composure, but it was so hard, with the way he was staring at her and the memory of his lips pressed against hers still making her stomach flutter.
“Was that your first kiss?” he asked, his voice low. Meeting his eyes, she was struck by the way the moonlight altered their color, giving their usual cold grey a silvery sheen. Bristling at that thought, she tossed her head back and relied on her best defense mechanism.
“What, a dirt poor common prostitute like me? Surely you must be joking!” she declared acidly, looking away. He moved in closer, those ever-observant eyes seeing through her weak defense, spotting the telltale shine of unshed tears in her eyes.
“Not exactly the way you’d imagined it,” he said simply, as if he was stating a well known fact. As she stared at him in shock, he leaned in closer, his face a breadth away from hers, forcing her to move back against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaky. He smiled softly.
“Just be a good girl and hold still, and we’ll see if we can’t create something a touch more romantic,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine. Before his words could register, one of his arms had wound itself around her waist, pulling her against him as the other reach up, cupping her face, guiding it towards his as he kissed her.
Shocked beyond all rational thought, she tried to pull away, but his arm was wrapped too tightly around her waist. But then, as his lips moved gently against hers, the strangest thing happened. A thrilling sensation overwhelmed her senses, running down her spine to tingle in her toes, and it rendered her completely unable to resist as she gave into the amazing sensations filling her body. His thumb was gently stroking her skin where he held her, and even though her mind was still sputtering over the fact that Draco Malfoy was kissing her, she felt herself melt against his body and began to respond.
It was all so foreign to her – she didn’t know how to breathe, what to do with her hands, whether or not she should open her eyes or keep them closed. But as she tentatively moved a hand to rest at his waist, his lips still moving gently against hers, he pulled her even closer to him, pressing her body right against him, deepening the kiss, igniting a desperate need within her that left her gasping and startled.
He pulled away gently, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Blinking, she remembered to start breathing again, and the reality of who this was, that the person who had just kissed her in a bloody moonlit fairy garden was someone she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Backing away, struggling out of the grip he had on her, she pushed him away, feeling disoriented as she stumbled away, clutching her shaking hands to her chest as she tried to regain control of her senses, which were still buzzing with excitement.
Malfoy was staring at her, a slightly smug grin on his face and a soft look in his eyes, looking extremely pleased with himself. It was such a change from the furious person who’d earlier fought with his best friend. At the thought of Blaise, Ginny’s hand moved to her lips in horror. What if he’d seen them? After she’d been the cause of a row between him and his friend, it was probably not good form to get caught snogging said best friend. She looked around her, terrified that someone had been watching the entire scene.
“Bloody hell, do you think anyone saw that?” she asked Malfoy, her voice shaky. His face changed slowly, from the smug smile and soft light in his eyes to hard and cold. He stared at her, stone-faced, for a moment while he adjusted his black dress robes.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you,” his said, his voice deadly soft. She was taken aback by the sudden coldness, and felt a strange twist of guilt as he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in a garden that was softly swaying with the light of fairies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N:
Drawn from HYD:
1) pretty much everything that happens during the scenes at the party is inspired by the dorama; the fact that she arrives in the wrong kind of outfit, the way Pansy picks on her, Blaise’s comment, Cho helping her out, dressing her, the fight between Malfoy and Zabini, the accidental kiss (although with my own twist on it). The scene at the end was inspired by a scene in Meteor Garden (Taiwanese version of HYD), where the main boy follows the girl outside afterwards and offers to make the kiss a “little more romantic”. However, my version is very different, and the rest of that scene, such as it is,is my own creation, having been unsatisfied with how that scene ended in the series. Despite these plot points, the characters' motivations, emotions, thoughts and the dialogue are all my own.
I have no idea when the next update will come. Best place to find out is my LJ, where I often post about the fic itself as well as cookies and fic bits as I write the next chapter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8: Reality and the Ideal
“Draco!” Blaise called, spying his best friend’s retreating back as he walked through the main doors of the school. Draco whipped around, his face stony and unreadable.
“What?” he asked, sounding extremely put out for being interrupted at he was preparing to enter the carriage waiting to take him home. Unfazed by his irritated response, Blaise stepped forward, closing the gap between the two.
“Interesting little show you just put on with the Weasley girl,” he said, his voice even. Draco’s face hardened almost imperceptibly – someone who didn’t know him as well as Blaise did would not have been able to see it.
“What difference does it make to you?” Draco asked angrily. “You never get involved. Why now?”
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing with this girl anymore. Bloody hell, you almost cursed her! For what? Refusing to worship the ground you walk on?” Blaise cried out. Draco stepped back, his gray eyes intent and reflecting a deep anger that left Blaise baffled. He strode the three steps’ distance between them.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Draco spat back. “What I’d like to know is what you’re doing. Questioning me like this? Just stay out of it, and we won’t have a problem.”
“Just don’t get the girl killed, alright? Show a little more control, and try to avoid throwing out Unforgivables, will you?” Blaise said, with a deep-suffering sigh. His best friend, glaring at him, ignored his words completely and after climbing into his carriage, left without saying another word.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ginny,” Hermione said, with an intent look in her eyes, “it sounds like Blaise Zabini tried to save you!”
“What do you mean? He just interrupted Malfoy, and I’m not entirely sure he did it purposely. He’d only just arrived, you see,” Ginny scoffed. Saving her from two of Malfoy’s thugs who’d cornered her in an empty class was one thing, but openly interfering, by stepping between her and his best friend? Ginny hardly believed any Slytherin was capable of it, not even Blaise Zabini.
“I’m sure he just made some ridiculous excuse to talk to you in order to interfere without seeming like he was interfering. I’m certain he meant to keep Malfoy from finishing the curse,” she said thoughtfully, flipping through the large textbook she had propped up on their table in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks. Ginny paused, drinking in this new information, feeling an electric thrill run through her at the very possibility that Blaise Zabini could have possibly done what Hermione was suggested he’d done on purpose.
“Do you really think so?” Ginny breathed. Hermione looked up from her textbook, taking in Ginny’s expression as she began to stare off into space. She sighed and then snapped her fingers, bringing Ginny’s attention back to the realm of reality.
“Look at you, mooning over the mere possibility! Honestly, Ginny, I don’t know how someone who has every reason to be completely practical can become such a hopeless romantic over the smallest thing! He just tried to stop that prat Malfoy from using an Unforgivable on you, it’s nothing to start writing poetry about,” she snapped. “And sure, he gave you a handkerchief, but did he even ask you if you were alright?”
“Hermione Granger, you wouldn’t be so quick to judge if you had just a bit of romance in your life,” Ginny declared, annoyed at her friend’s lack of romantic sensibilities. “And do not even try to convince me that your relationship with that Finnegan boy had any semblance of romance about it. I remember your description of your first kiss – stiff and awkward and right outside the owl post office, of all places!”
“It certainly wasn’t romantic, but then, Ginny, most first kisses aren’t. If you ask around, I’m sure you’ll find that most share the same awkward experience,” Hermione laughed.
“I could never settle for anything so incredibly disappointing. You only get one first kiss with someone, and if it were awkward and unromantic, I don’t think I could ever look at that person again, let alone continue dating them. I don’t know how you dated that boy for three months after he kissed in front of an owlery!” Ginny cried passionately. Hermione just looked at her, a sad smile on her face.
“For a girl who grew up in the wizarding world, there hasn’t been much magic in your life, has there, Gin?” Hermione asked softly. “I think that’s why you are such a hopeless romantic and can think that a boy refraining from bullying you is actually romantic. Love isn’t all moonlight and magic fairy gardens – it can be just as ugly and mundane as everything else around us. I just hope that with all these notions and expectations you have about first kisses and such, that you’re not too disappointed with reality.”
“You’re putting far too much thought into this, Hermione,” Ginny said with a laugh, despite the sad light in her eyes. “Can’t we just be teenaged girls who giggle every once in a while about boys and kisses and romance without it having to be a serious reflection on what this world has stolen from us?”
“If you were taking Arithmancy by correspondence, too, you’d be thinking along the same lines, just for a little intellectual stimulation,” Hermione scoffed. “These courses have frightfully low academic expectations.”
Ginny chuckled for Hermione’s benefit, and a companionable silence fell over the two, as Hermione returned to her textbook, and Ginny to her thoughts. She kept replaying the events of the afternoon over in her head, trying to decide whether she believed what Hermione thought about Blaise, that his interference was intentional and calculated to appear casual. It certainly would be very Slytherin of him. Her thoughts slowly shifted from a careful consideration of Blaise Zabini’s motives for helping her to the even more perplexing question of why Draco Malfoy had healed her wrist. As much as she tried to concentrate on the memory of Blaise Zabini stepping between her and Malfoy just as he was about to curse her, the vision kept transforming to the intent expression in Malfoy’s eyes as he gently examined her injured arm. Lost in thought, Ginny absently flexed the fingers of her right hand, rotating her wrist as she did so.
"Is it bothering you at all?" Hermione asked quietly. Ginny, startled out of her thoughts, looked down at her hand, remembering how only a few hours ago, it was hideously swollen, and shook her head.
"No, I’m fine," she answered. Hermione watched her friend carefully as Ginny gazed down at her hand, obviously perplexed. She looked up at Hermione, her brow furrowed. "I just don't know why he did it."
"Why he challenged you to a stupid race when you had a broken broom and led you straight to the Whomping Willow? To get you killed, obviously. Or, is it why he almost used an Unforgivable on you? Or, why he stopped?" Hermione asked acidly, her eyes flashing with anger as she recited the wrongs that Draco Malfoy had conducted against her best friend.
"Why he fixed my wrist," Ginny said softly. "It was so... unusual. He was still a conceited prat the whole time, but he just seemed... different, in the way he spoke to me and such. Almost as if he was looking at me like an equal. But even aside from that, just the fact that he did in the first place. I don't understand it."
"Because he's like a child, Ginny. A spoiled, temperamental child who broke its favorite toy," Hermione said with authority. "The Nott children are exactly like that whenever I look after them. They play too rough with their bloody toy broomsticks, and end up smashing them. At first, they sit there, like they're in shock, as if they can't believe what has just happened. Then, they start to try to fix it - calmly at first, then they get very frantic, and if it doesn't work, they end up tossing a giant tantrum. I really wish their parents would stop repairing them when they come home, it would save me a lot of headaches."
"So I'm Malfoy's favorite toy?" Ginny asked, dryly.
"What he's doing goes beyond just revenge for insulting him. I think he finds you entertaining. I was watching carefully when they were here for that reception, and he was always watching you with this smile on his face. You're a source of entertainment to him, and like a spoiled child, when you ended up with a broken wrist and looked like you weren't going to play any more, he did what he could to fix his favorite toy," Hermione explained, her eyes sparkling with concentration as they always did when her mind was spinning quickly to answer a question. "He wasn't speaking to you as an equal; it's just another example of how he looks down on you."
Ginny was quiet after Hermione finished speaking, her eyes fixed on her wrist. Even with the spell he'd used to heal her, there was still a small bruise where the bone had actually snapped, although it was fading quickly. She'd listened to what Hermione had said, and had to admit to herself that it seemed to fit what she knew about Draco Malfoy. Plus, Hermione was generally always right about just about every subject, so there was no reason to believe that she was wrong. But she hadn't been there, hadn't seen the strange look in his eyes or heard the edged gentleness in his voice. It made her shiver just to think about it.
"Prat or no, I'm relieved he healed my wrist. I couldn’t have worked like that," Ginny said, tearing her eyes away from her wrist and her thoughts away from her most recent encounter with Malfoy.
"You are incredibly lucky you didn't get caught. It would have been the end for you, for goodness knows you'd be blamed," Hermione said, her voice slightly shrill with her indignation. Then you'd better hope, for your sake, that we don't get caught, he'd said, with that tone of amusement in his voice that sounded almost as if he were gently teasing her. Ginny shook her head, trying to expel thoughts of Draco Malfoy from her head, along with the memory of his touch from tingling on her skin.
"Are you going to go to that party?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards the crumpled invitation that lay on the table between them. Ginny sighed heavily, trying to weigh her options. If her world were anything resembling normal, she should have been pleased to be invited to a party, especially by a celebrity and national hero. But the reality of the situation was nothing to be excited about.
"I haven't decided yet. Well, I told Parkinson that I'd go, but that was only because she practically dared me to do it and -"
"-You're far too stubborn and head-strong to turn down any thing you think of as a challenge," Hermione cut in, with a knowing smile.
"She questioned my courage, Hermione! How could I face going to school every day if they think I'm a coward?" Ginny cried. After a pause, with Hermione shaking her head in resigned exasperation, she continued. "Besides, I really would like the chance to talk to Cho Chang, and the opportunity may not come again... and there are other people there who aren't so bad."
"Like Blaise Zabini?" Hermione prodded, and Ginny felt her face burn.
"If it's like you said - if he did actually save me from that curse - then I should at least go and, you know, thank him for it," Ginny said, feeling awkward with embarassment as she struggled to justify the desire to see the handsome boy again.
"I think it would also be a great opportunity for you. Just think - some of the most powerful people in our world are going to be there, you'll get a chance to speak to them, do a little networking, gain an inside into their world. It'll come in handy for you one day," Hermione said with a pointed look.
"My mum would have kittens if she knew what you were suggesting I do," Ginny cried, before checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, and leaned in to whisper. "Cozying up to Slytherins and Death Eaters so I can spy on them? That's the kind of trick they would use. I'd like to think I'm above that."
"And that is exactly why they won the war," Hermione said quietly. "Nothing is above them. They use whatever they can, however they can. If there's ever going to be a chance for the Order to take it back, we need to be more strategic."
"It's devious, slimy and a fairly horrible lie. Befriending these people so that I can use them for information?" Ginny whispered fiercely, her voice filled with disgust. "It was hard enough just pretending I didn't loathe every single one of them and shout out to the world how ridiculous I find them. That's actually the only good thing that has come out of this whole ordeal with Malfoy - I can be myself and say what I like, because even if I don't, I'll still have the same consequences to face, so I might as well just be myself."
"It's just an idea, that's all. If it were me, that is what I would try to do," Hermione said, slightly defensively.
"Well, you're a bit cleverer than I. And good deal more sensible - I'd end up insulting the whole lot of them before too long, and actually worsen my chances to be of any use. If I haven't done that already," Ginny said with an easy smile, leaning back in her chair. Hermione relaxed, and appeared to be about to say something when a large commotion out on the street drew their attention. Frowning, Ginny stood up and walked over to the large store-front windows of the Three Broomsticks, and peered outside. And she felt her heart drop in panic at what she saw. Blood began to pound in her head as the adrenaline began to surge throughout her body. There was a group of about 10 men, dressed in dark robes, wearing hoods and masks. Death Eaters.
She rushed back to her table, barely slowing down as she grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her along with her as she dashed towards the back of the restaurant, ignoring Hermione's protests and questions as she ran. She didn't stop until they were crossed into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut behind her.
"Ginny, what's gotten into you?" Hermione demanded. Ginny waved her question away, peering cautiously through the door's window, feeling her heart beat furiously in her chest. She leaned her ear against the door, and felt a bolt of fear as she heard a number of cries and the smashing of glass out in the street. She turned to look at Hermione, and the older girl could tell by the intensely worried look in her friend's eyes and the panic – bordering on hysteria, that this was something very serious.
"Do you have all your papers here?" Ginny asked frantically. "Because you'd better run and get them." The kitchen staff, who had been busy preparing for that night's dinner service, had stopped when they had burst into the kitchen, and upon Ginny's question, they all started to scatter, dashing towards their lockers or Rosmerta's office, where many of them kept their copies of the important licensing and bloodline papers, which had to be produced on the demand of any "governmental official." Death Eaters who had earned their Marks and Hoods were classified as "governmental officials" and often went around, raiding the village, searching for Muggle-born witches or wizards who were violating the strict restrictions of magical use that were enforced on them.
"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide with panic. She was the only non-pureblood who was employed at the Three Broomsticks, and even if she had all her papers in order, if they entered the restaurant, it would undoubtedly mean trouble for her. Before Ginny could say anything, she heard a magnificent crash out in the lobby accompanied by the shattering of glass and the cacophonous crash of silverware as it fell to the ground.
"Someone find Rosmerta!" Ginny hollered behind her, as she peered out the window, and saw the terrifying sight of six or seven Death Eaters standing in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by a few over-turned tables and an absolute mess of dishes and utensils, outfitted in their full regalia. Madame Rosmerta, as the owner and proprietor of the most popular restaurant in Hogsmeade, had quite a bit of influence that became useful in these types of raids. Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm as the two girls, standing on their tip-toes, strained to see what was happening. An echo of screams had them whipping around, seeing three hooded Death Eaters marching through the kitchen, the kitchen staff scattering out their way, especially as they were roughly leading Rosmerta out in front of them, pushing her along as she muttered about the inconvenience and the mess.
"You lot of trolls had better ensure that my establishment is returned to its proper state before you march yourselves out of here, and I expect to see every Sickle of the cost to replace my damaged property," she stated adamantly, even as the three large men - made even more intimidating by their hidden faces and long dark robes that an entire generation had grown up terrified of seeing - forced her along. As they passed, Ginny grabbed Hermione and they ducked behind a counter, and watched in horror as they pushed her forward.
"Order all of your staff out here now. We need to see their papers," one of the Death Eaters demanded gruffly. Ginny felt nauseous as she recognized his voice - he was one of their regular customers, who usually behaved like a decent human being; he was polite, soft-spoken and tipped well. In a bizarre moment of detachment, she wondered what it was about those hoods that could take the most decent person and turn them into a horrible creature filled with hate that is capable of doing such terrible things. Of course, she mused to herself, completely lost in the moment, any decent person would never agree to take the Hood in the first place.
The terrified kitchen staff started to file out of the kitchen, all holding their papers in their hands. One of the Death Eaters stomped towards where Hermione and Ginny were crouching, and looming over them, demanded that they start moving. Ginny, snapped back into the reality and the extreme danger of the moment, stood up, and managed to catch Rosmerta's eye through the door from where she was standing. Rosmerta was looking fiercely at Ginny, and almost imperceptibly, motioned her head towards them. Ginny realized with a start what Rosmerta was trying to tell her - to distract them, to keep their attention away from Hermione.
The Death Eater that had come over to them grabbed them each by the shoulder and pushed them out into the main part of the restaurant, ordering everyone to sit on the ground while they inspected their papers. Hermione shot Ginny a nervous glance, but Ginny just shook her head. She knew the clever girl wouldn't go anything stupid or unwise, especially not in this potentially dangerous situation, but she knew, far better than most, how scared she had to be.
They were going down the line, demanding to see everyone's Magical License and Bloodline Certificates. The leader of their group was interrogating each member of the staff while his henchmen began searching around the restaurant, as if Rosmerta was hiding someone.
"What has brought all this on?" Rosmerta demanded haughtily, watching with furious eyes as one lumbering Death Eater overturned a table, sending it flying with a splintering crash. "I have never given anyone cause to question my loyalty or accuse me of being involved in any criminal activities."
"Escaped convict, Rosmerta, that's all. No one's sure how he managed to escape, so we can't take any chances. He might be able to disguise himself, so no one can really be trusted," one explained, sounding apologetic. "The Dark Lord is absolutely livid and has ordered us all to search every house in Hogsmeade."
"This is most certainly not a house," Rosmerta commented coldly.
"He could be hiding among your staff without you even knowing it," he tried to explain, but she just shook her head in disgust. Seeming chastised, he continued with his interrogations, his tone becoming brusque and rough.
"Papers," he barked at Hermione when he reached where the girls were crouching. Hermione hesitantly reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded pieces of parchment that could mean her life if she ever left her home without them. Bloodline prejudice was a serious threat to anyone who wasn't born to wizarding parents. He snatched them, unfolding the parchment. Ginny watched his eyes scan down the paper, and even with the mask on his face, she could tell the second he read that Hermione had Muggle parents.
"Mudblood, are you? Rosmerta, I'm shocked you'd allow such a thing to work in your restaurant, where she could contaminate your patrons!" he grunted, catching the attention of the other Death Eaters, who stopped rummaging through the dining room, and began to form a little circle around Hermione, their eyes sparkling cruelly behind their masks. Hermione's hand had clutched for Ginny's arm, squeezing it tightly as she stood her ground, looking up at them with a neutral expression, doing her hardest not to betray her fear. The terror in the room had increased exponentially.
"She's an adequate waitress, despite her lack of finer qualities. Besides, what pureblood of any worth would lower themselves to wait on others?" Rosmerta asked with a pointed smile, and her signature charm. They ignored her, and another one of the Death Eaters reached down and grabbed Hermione by the arm, pulling her to her feet, causing her to yelp in surprise and pain. Ginny bolted to her feet, ready to throw herself between her best friend and these terrible men, but luckily for them all, their attention was drawn away by a terrific crash from out in the street, followed by a series of screams, shouting voices and a barking dog.
Cursing under his breath, the Death Eater who had grabbed Hermione released her suddenly, and she dropped to the floor, falling backwards, and stalked towards the door. He threw her papers down to the floor as he crossed the threshold. The others followed behind him, their heavy boots crunching on the broken glass.
"If you see or hear any of your employees doing anything that is even slightly out of the ordinary, you will contact us at once. There's no telling where this fugitive could be hiding," one ordered, before following the rest. As soon as they were gone, and Rosmerta had shut and locked the door behind them, quickly drawing the blinds, the entire staff breathed a giant sight of relief.
Ginny, standing in the middle of the dining room, felt a surge of anger. Eyeing her brilliant friend, who was now trembling as she crouched on the floor, recovering from that fright, having been targeted merely for whom her parents were, then turning to take in all the damage and havoc they'd wreaked on Rosmerta's carefully decorated restaurant, Ginny was overcome with the incredible injustice of it all. Hermione's earlier words rang through her head. "And that is exactly why they won the war...Nothing is above them, they use whatever they can however they can. If there's ever going to be a chance for the Order to take it back, we need to be more strategic."
"Hermione," Ginny said, crouching down next to her after picking up her papers where they’d been tossed by the Death Eater, "I need your help."
"With what?" she asked with a shaky smile, trying to show her concerned friend that she was alright.
"I need you to help me pick out an outfit for Cho Chang's party tomorrow."
It was time to get be a little more strategic.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In front of her was quite possibly the most incredible building she’d ever seen in her entire life. The rich neighborhoods that surrounded the Hogsmeade city proper were an area that Ginny usually avoided as much as possible, mostly because it increased her chances of running into someone she greatly disliked, and therefore, she wasn’t really all that familiar with the pompous display of wealth that seemed to be a prerequisite for any building in that area. Standing at the gates of the Chang mansion, Ginny was awestruck by the level of luxury that was apparent. Wrought iron gates, a massive expanse of luscious gardens and rolling green lawns stood between her and the front door. Squinting in the dark, Ginny tried to estimate how many bedrooms the mansion contained, but shrouded the way it was by nightfall, there was no way to tell.
Looking around her furtively, Ginny stashed her broom – mended so that it was at least able to fly, thanks to a clever charm Hermione had found in one of her many books – in the bushes that surrounded the stone walls near the gate. Just as she was double-checking to ensure that she had her invitation with her, knowing that there would be nothing but problems for her should she forget it, the gates swung open, and a carriage with shaded windows turned up the long driveway. Ginny followed behind them, her eyes wide with wonder as stared up at the house ahead of her, tugging at her outfit uncomfortably as she went. Pansy had said it was a casual occasion, but despite this, she and Hermione had spent hours poring over both of their wardrobes, before finally settling on what they believed “casual” meant for a Slytherin occasion. Under her cloak, Ginny wore a simple black skirt, a beautiful emerald green silk top that Hermione had loaned her, and at Hermione’s insistence, a rather delicate pair of shoes with a decent yet still sensible two inch heel. After wrestling with her long hair for about twenty minutes, they’d just let it lay loose, shaping a few curls to frame her face.
Holding her breath, Ginny rang the door bell and waited, steeling herself for all manner of greetings she may receive. An unusually distinguished-looking house elf answered the door, and after spotting the invitation in her hand, ushered her through the main hall, and into what he called the ballroom. Ginny had been too busy gaping at the marble floors, gilded portraits on the wall and the spectacular crystal chandelier that hung over the magnificent staircase to notice the disdain that was clearly evident on the house elf’s face as he took in her outfit. Before showing her through the door, he relieved her of her cloak, and hustled her through the door, before she even had a chance to check and see if the mascara and lip gloss Rosmerta had advised her to wear was smudged.
It seemed she had made her entrance during a lull in the music, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor seemed to draw the attention of the occupants of the room. She was standing in front of a crowd of about 300 people, who were all staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. After the few seconds that it took for her to recover from the shock, Ginny realized why. Everyone in the room was decked out in very formal dress robes and she was incredibly underdressed. Feeling her face burn with embarrassment, Ginny fought the urge to escape through the door behind her, and forced herself to step forward. Luckily, at that moment, the orchestra began to play again, and slowly, the eyes that were staring at her found other things to focus their attention on.
“Weasley, what on earth are you wearing? I understand that you’re a bit of a whore, but there is no need to advertise the fact that you’re a classless cheap whore,” Pansy Parkinson said dryly, even as she smirked at Ginny. Parkinson was wearing beautiful dress robes in a pale pink silk, and knowing her parents’ connections, Ginny had no doubt they were custom made by a famous designer.
“You did tell me that it was a casual event,” Ginny said, forcing a bright smile as a few older wizards walked past, nodding in greeting towards Pansy.
“I had no idea you’d take me seriously! I was only joking. Imagine a casual party for the World Championship Quidditch team hosted by the Changs? Unbelievable!” Pansy chortled.
“Which one of us is really the one without any class?” Ginny fumed under her breath. The smirk on Pansy’s face slowly faded, replaced by anger, indicating that she’d heard what Ginny had said. She opened her mouth, preparing to fling another nasty comment, but a chorus of gasps ran through the crowd, and her attention was drawn the entrance. Ginny followed her gaze, and stiffened significantly as Draco Malfoy, followed by his two brainless minions, Crabbe and Goyle, entered the ballroom. As the other guests cleared a path for them as they walked past, Ginny started when Malfoy’s eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly, determined to avoid making eye contact, even as her heat began to beat wildly. She was still feeling rather raw from their encounter the day before, and had skived off her classes that day just to avoid having to see him, and was not prepared to have to deal with him quite yet.
“Even though Cho hasn’t made her entrance yet, the party has really started now. Don’t get caught trying to lift any of the silverware, Weasel,” Pansy chortled, before she trotted off, swaying precariously on her ridiculous spiked heels. Breathing a sigh of relief as she felt a bit of the tension in her shoulders drain away, as Malfoy and his groupies had passed her by without any incident, Ginny looked around. Everyone in the room was standing in little groups, talking amongst themselves, and none looked even vaguely inviting. Standing alone in the room rather awkwardly, she tried to find something to occupy herself.
She spotted Crabbe and Goyle leaning rather conspicuously against one of the marble pillars that were interspersed throughout the room. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she watched as Goyle acted as a look-out while Crabbe levitated an object before affixing it, out of sight for anyone who wasn’t watching them, to the pillar. Smiling wickedly at each other once their task was complete, they slyly walked away, without drawing any attention from any other guests, who were far too occupied with schmoozing with each other to notice. Curious, Ginny walked towards the pillar, trying to figure out what it was they’d placed up there and what they had planned. When she finally got close enough to see what it was, she nearly started to laugh herself.
She remembered the disastrous Christmas, before she’d started attending Hogwarts, when the twins had unveiled their first device in the art of practical jokes. A fairly innocuous piece of mistletoe had hung over the doorway, but little did everyone know that it had been charmed with a surprisingly powerful bit of magic that forced any two people standing underneath for longer than a few seconds to kiss. Three incidents later, including one with Aunt Mildred and her famous Bat Bogey Hex – which she’d since passed on to Ginny, figuring as the only girl in a family of boys, she’d need the advantage, and her mum had finally discovered what was causing all the spontaneous snogging. And now, before her very eyes, was that same product. She could tell by shape, size and the fact that the berries were distinctly orange in color. They’d mentioned looking around to find a vendor for it, and she guessed they must have found one, if Crabbe and Goyle had managed to get their hands on it.
She was busy giggling fondly to herself, remembering the giant row her mum and the twins had had after she’d discovered what they’d invented (even though most would consider it amazing, given the advanced magic they’d figured out at their young age), when a young lady was about to pass under it at the same time as an older wizard, whom she recognized as one of the more lecherous guests at the party she’d hostessed for Malfoy. Without even thinking, she grabbed her arm, pulling her back just in the nick of time.
“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Ginny said knowingly. By a sheer stroke of luck, Millicent Bulstrode also happened to be nearby, and was the unfortunate victim of the charmed mistletoe as it worked its magic, to the complete astonishment of the old man. “See?”
“How did you know that was going to happen?” the girl asked with a shocked laugh. Her words were spoken in very careful English, and even though her accent was almost spot-on, Ginny could tell that English was not her first language. Smiling back at her, Ginny pointed up near the top of the pillar.
“It’s someone’s idea of a practical joke. It’s charmed to work on any two people who happen to be caught underneath it at the same time,” Ginny said. The girl laughed again, her deep blue eyes wide with amusement as they both watched a flustered Millicent Bulstrode attempt to regain her composure as the outraged wizard demanded an explanation. A quick glance at her new companion revealed that she was a rather glamorous witch, wearing incredible dress robes in a mint green and was glittering from the jewels at her wrist and throat, and Ginny expected her to excuse herself before she was caught talking to the underdressed witch who obviously didn’t belong.
“I thank you very much from preventing me from experiencing its effects first hand,” she said emphatically, before holding out her hand for Ginny to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Angelique Aristide. And you are?”
“Ginny Weasley. It’s nice to meet you,” Ginny said, pretending that she wasn’t completely shocked, especially as she recognized her surname. Aristide was one of the most prominent wizarding families in France – a magical line descended from French nobility! And she was talking to little Ginny Weasley as if she were an actual person!
“Ginny, why don’t you come with me and meet a few friends of mine? I’m sure they’d love to be warned about that little trick,” Angelique suggested. Ginny stared at her in open shock for about a second, before she remembered her decision to become more strategic before smiling and agreeing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As her captive audience's laughter filled her ears, Ginny was having such a good time she almost didn't stop to consider how surreal the whole situation had been; how easy it had been to be standing, feeling like a complete outsider, one moment, to be surrounded by 9 or 10 people who comprised the next generation of the most powerful people in her world. Angelique had indeed introduced her to a group of her friends - a group of people who did not attend Hogwarts and had no idea who she was. After Angelique had recounted her story of how Ginny had saved her from certain mortification, they had demanded to know how she had recognized the joke in progress. Before she really knew it, she had recounted the entire Christmas Incident, as well as a litany of other exploits she'd collected over the years, her family being the constant subject of their experiments. They were simply devouring everything she had to say, laughing uncontrollably at her imitation of Ron's reaction to the time the twins had changed his teddy bear into a spider, and she felt strangely exhilarated by their attention to her. It was almost intoxicating, the feeling of acceptance, and even admiration from a group of people who, if she had met them at school, would normally have shunned her.
“You are quite the interesting character, Miss Ginny Weasley,” Daniel Jacobs, a seventh year from Durmstrang, said with a flirtatious smile, leaning closer to her. Ginny threw her head back and laughed, unable to contain the giddy energy that this situation was sending coursing through her veins.
“Yes, she is quite the interesting character. Surely you’ve all heard about Ginny Weasley, the dirt poor blood traitor who tries to disguise herself as a respectable Hogwarts students while prostituting herself just to pay her tuition?” the sneering voice of Pansy Parkinson called out, causing an shocked laugh to travel throughout the group. Ginny’s smile faded as she turned to glare at Pansy, who’d pushed her way through the circle of people who had gathered around Ginny and was wearing a satisfied smirk on her face. A quick glance around the group indicated that Pansy’s words had struck a chord with most of them, and they were all looking at completely differently now. She glared at Pansy, her blood boiling even as her face burned with the same feeling of shame she’d felt the day those posters had been hung around the school.
“Ah, so it was you who was responsible for the poster and those pictures,” Ginny said, her voice calm and falsely bright, determined to maintain some semblance of a cheerful demeanor and not lose her temper, given her current audience. “It was so incredibly unimaginative and tacky; I should have known it could only have come from you.”
She felt a flare of triumph as Pansy’s face turned purple as Angelique erupted into giggles and felt some of her previous giddy energy return. She saw Millicent Bulstrode striding toward their group, moving in to stand behind Pansy, apparently having recovered from the mistletoe incident.
“You deserved it,” Pansy spat at her. Ginny felt her irritation flare, and her desire to keep her genial candor faded as her temper clouded her common sense.
“In what possible way could I have deserved having lies that questioned my reputation? I’ve never done anything to you!” Ginny cried. Pansy’s eyes were practically snapping at her, she was glaring at Ginny so fiercely.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just the fact that you walk around my school like you have a right to be there. The fact that you’re here right now when you’re nothing more than common street trash offends me. And I've seen the way you moon over Blaise Zabini, and I can't stand it!" Pansy declared, taking another step towards Ginny. The crowd around them was starting to grow, curious about the scene that Ginny was causing. "You have no idea the lengths that girls like us go to attract his attention and for a girl like you to think you are even in the same league is disgusting!"
"Strangely enough, Parkinson, I feel exactly the same way. Just the thought of being grouped into the same category as a girl like you is enough to make me ill," Ginny answered stonily, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment at her insinuation that she 'mooned' over Blaise Zabini.
"Your pathetic efforts to win his attention by making him feel sorry for your pathetic life are completely in vain. He already has a girlfriend; someone like you could never even dream of competing against her," Millicent Bulstrode shrieked. Pansy cut a vicious glance at her friend for interrupting, before turning back towards Ginny with triumphant eyes. A murmur had run through the crowd, starting by the entrance, working its way to where they were standing,
"Look, you can see them together right now," Pansy said triumphantly, as Ginny turned to see what was causing the commotion. The celebrity of the hour, Cho Chang, had just entered the ballroom on the arm of none other than Blaise Zabini. Pansy moved in beside Ginny as she craned her neck to see them walk past. "How could he ever notice something like you when he's in love with a girl like that?"
Ginny felt as if she'd been struck in the stomach, and it had nothing to do with what Pansy was saying. Her eyes were fixed on Blaise, looking as handsome as ever in his black dress robes. But it was the magnificent smile on his face, and the soft glow about his eyes that really had her attention. In that moment, as he smiled down at Cho Chang, looking fantastic in her red silk dress robes, the shroud of mystery that was always around him seemed to have faded away completely, and what he was thinking and feeling at that exact second in time was clear for everyone to see. And that was that he only had eyes for Cho, and could probably care less about every other person in the world, so long as she was the one beside him.
Until that moment, she’d largely felt that her little crush on Blaise Zabini was nothing more than that – simple admiration for the quiet and beautiful boy who’d shown her some small amount of kindness despite the fact that his natural predilection should have been to sneer at her, like the rest of his group of friends. But the way her stomach twisted when she saw this whole other side of him was an instant of realization. She wanted him to look at her that way, and it was an utter shock to realize that when she was watching him stare at such a beautiful girl who could very well be the love of his life.
A stunning sensation of cold dropping suddenly on her head made her shriek in surprise, twisting around to see Pansy’s nasty smirk as she held an empty glass in her hand. Sticky liquid was running down Ginny’s neck and dripping into her eyes, splashing to the floor around her, as Pansy had emptied the contents of her drink over her head.
“How very clumsy of you! You should really be going – it wouldn’t be very wise of you to stick around the party looking like that, you know. Although, it is an improvement on that outfit,” Pansy laughed nastily, as Ginny looked down, almost blinded by rage, at the vivid green silk shirt that was now stained. She was about to open her mouth to start shouting at Pansy, but the older girl snapped at her before she could. “Don’t make a scene and ruin Cho’s party, Weasel!”
She took a quick glance around her; the group of people that had been her appreciative audience not ten minutes before were now looking at her with varying looks of amusement, horror or pity. She could barely raise her head to meant Angelique’s eyes, not wanting to see what she was thinking about this whole mess. Her eyes caught for a moment as she spotted Draco Malfoy striding towards the huddled crowd purposefully, and she felt herself stiffened immediately as she met his eyes for a split second. But that split second was enough to remind her of what had happened earlier - the challenge he’d issued and the unfortunate results their race around the Whomping Willow had had for her. And as terrible as it had been, it didn’t compare to this, because then, she’d been fighting back. But now, she was standing there, letting bloody Pansy Parkinson push her around without even reacting with anything more than a few sarcastic comments? The hell with that! She’d just pulled out her wand, her mind searching through its catalogue of curses trying to find something suitable for the sneering girl when the cool and completely disarming voice of Blaise Zabini caused a complete shutdown of her high brain functions and cognitive abilities.
“Weasley. You’re looking a little damp,” he said, causing her to jump, surprised to find him behind her. She gaped at him stupidly, unsure of what to say. She just nodded, more aware than ever of the many pairs of eyes that were on her, especially because they now included his.
“Pansy! I’m so glad you could make it to the party,” Cho Chang’s voice rang out, as she stepped into the middle of the crowd, carrying a large champagne bottle with her. Pansy’s face instantly shifted from her nasty glare in Ginny’s direction to a mask of sweetness. “I was just looking around for someone to help me out with something. Would you mind?”
“Oh, of course not Cho! Anything you need!” Pansy said, practically tripping over herself, her efforts to embarrass and harass Ginny completely forgotten as she basked in Cho’s attention.
“I was just about to make a toast, in honor of my teammates and our successful year. Could you just hold this glass for me while I open the bottle? It’s being a little difficult,” Cho said, handing Pansy a crystal champagne flute while continuing to fiddle with the champagne bottle, shaking it around as she tried in vain to pop the cork out. Ginny stepped back from the scene upon seeing, to her shock, Cho wink at her. Then, without warning, the cork popped right out of the bottle in an explosion of liquid erupted forth, spraying anyone who happened to be in its path – such as the unfortunately positioned Pansy Parkinson. Laughing in surprise as she held the bottle away from her body as the carbonated liquid sprayed directly into Pansy’s face as her shrieks filled the air, Cho met Ginny’s eyes as she gave her a sly grin.
Handing the bottle off to a rather frazzled-looking house elf once the eruption had tapered off, Cho grabbed Ginny by the arm.
“Thanks Pansy, you were a great help,” she called over her shoulder, as she lead Ginny away from the scene. Giving Ginny an appraising look, who was still feeling slightly shocked, she smiled. “Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up a bit. Can’t have you feeling out of place because of a wanker like Pansy.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Thank you,” Ginny said sincerely from behind a silk dressing screen. Her eyes had practically bugged out of her head as Cho had led her up to her bedroom, ushering her into the shower to clean the sticky liquid out of her hair, then ordering her behind the screen as she tossed dozens of dress robes over to the overwhelmed girl, declaring that she wanted to find suitably “fabulous” for her to make up for the rude actions of her guest. “I mean, for what you did to Pansy.”
“It’s something I’ve been waiting to do for years now! The only reason I’ve been friends with her is because I’ve done some modeling for her mother’s fashion line. But this season’s designs are just terrible, so that’s no longer a concern,” Cho said, her laughter a delicate tinkling-type noise. She threw another set of robes over the screen to Ginny. “Try that one! I think it might be perfect!”
Ginny picked up the brilliant green fabric, a beautiful green color that reminded her of the very green grass in the summer. Holding it out in front of her, she drew a shaky breath as she examined it. It was made a flowing, silky fabric, and was an elegant take on a Grecian toga. Slipping into it, she admired the way it wrapped around her, falling in folds to the ground from the waist, where a golden cord twisted about her torso, cinching the dress at her waist. She took a few tentative steps out from behind the silk screen, reveling in the feel of the dress as it trailed behind her, the filmy material swaying as she moved.
“Definitely perfect. Come look at yourself!” Cho cried out, her eyes wide with pleasure, dragging Ginny over to the full length mirror. “Oh Ginny, it’s fantastic!”
Ginny was trying to speak, to articulate just how much she appreciated her help, but she was too busy staring at herself. Unable to believe that the girl standing in such an amazing set of dress robes which cost more than two year’s tuition to Hogwarts, looking very much like she belonged in ancient Greece, was actually her, she just stared blankly at her. Cho was behind her, smiling indulgently at her amazement.
“It’s the perfect color for you,” she said, glancing at the range of black dresses she’d laid out as possibilities disdainfully. “You are definitely not a simple black dress. From everything Blaise has told me about you, you could be nothing other than a brilliantly colored one-of-a-kind dress.”
“I don’t know what Blaise has told you about me,” Ginny cried out, laughing. She watched Cho walk over to her closet, searching through the many shelves of shoes, trying to pick out a pair to match the dress.
“He’s told me quite a bit. That’s why I really wanted to meet you, it’s so rare that he ever talks about any of the girls he meets,” Cho said distractedly. Ginny felt her stomach leap into her throat, the thrill of excitement overwhelming her senses. “That’s how I know you had to be really unusual. And he was right, you are rather full of spirit and you have a very honest nature about you.”
“He said that?” Ginny breathed. Cho turned around, smiling at her as she handed her a flat pair of sandals that were so delicate, they looks as though they were nothing more than a few strips of tan leather to hold the sole to her foot.
“I think these will be perfect – very earthy. It will go quite nicely with the Greek thing we’ve got going on. I think we should leave your hair alone – it’s so lovely loose, and use just a small touch of makeup,” she said, motioning for Ginny to put the shoes on. Ginny slid them on to her foot, and remarked at how well they fit. Cho grabbed her arm, and led her towards the vanity table.
“This dress, these shoes… it’s all so incredible,” Ginny said, still overwhelmed by Cho’s comments regarding Blaise Zabini and what he’d said about her. “I really appreciate how kind you’re being.”
“Really, I owe you a favor. I worry about Blaise sometimes, especially when I’m so far away from him all the time, traveling with the team or with other commitments. He’s always been such a serious boy, and he avoids interacting with people far too much, especially girls. You seem to have broken through that shell of his a bit, which makes me very happy,” she said, laying out an array of cosmetics for Ginny to choose from. Ginny was far too distracted by her words to notice anything else. It sounded as if Cho was thanking her for spending time with Blaise, which given the way they were looking at each other as they’d walked into the ballroom, seemed rather odd to Ginny. If Blaise was her boyfriend, she wouldn’t want any other girl to get too close to him, especially if she had to be away from him a lot like Cho was.
“He talks about you a lot, too,” Ginny said tentatively. Cho paused, her dark eyes growing serious as she smiled sadly.
“He’s a really good friend. I hope he can find himself a nice girl to look after him after I leave again,” she said, her voice soft. Ginny frowned, surprised, but if Cho noticed her facial expression, she ignored it. “There, I think you’re ready!”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Not exactly the elegant affair Cho’s parents had in mind,” Goyle laughed, watching as yet another unsuspecting couple paused for a split second too long under the trick mistletoe they’d planted.
“Keeps it from being dull, mate. Did you catch the scene with the Weasel girl and Cho earlier? They really got Pansy!” Crabbe asked Draco, his voice enthusiastic, trying to drag his friend out of the gloomy stoicism that had been hanging around him for over a day. Draco was leaning idly against a marble pillar, glaring alternately across the room where Blaise was busy speaking to Cho’s parents and to the grand entranceway, as if he were waiting for someone to arrive.
“Why hasn’t Blaise come over here at all?” Goyle asked Draco pointedly. His friend glared at him coldly, and returned to watching the doors. “Did you two have a row or something? Haven’t seen you two talk at all since that other day by the Whomping Willow.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Draco mumbled, sounding bored. At that moment, the doors swung open, and Cho entered, leading a very reluctant-looking Ginny Weasley into the ballroom. Draco’s demeanor changed instantly, as he straightened up and his face lit up.
The Weasley girl was walking tentatively down the steps, wearing a bright green set of dress robes whose filmy material whispered behind her as she walked. Her bright hair was a tumble of loose curls framing her face, and her eyes seemed to glow brightly. The combination of the bright-colored dress, the brightness of her hair and the way the material moved against her body drew many an admiring glance from the males in the room.
Goyle and Crabbe looked at each other in confusion, as they had both noticed the way that Draco’s eyes had locked onto the girl as soon as she’d entered, and how completely unaware he was that anything else existed, for he only had eyes for her.
“This is going to be interesting,” Crabbe said lowly, eliciting a sly grin from Goyle.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This must be what Cinderella felt like, Ginny thought to herself as she walked into the ballroom alongside Cho. Walking in the first time, surrounded by such a beautiful place and walking into a party filled with people who’d probably spit at her if they met her on the street had been completely surreal, but this time, dressed so finely, was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. All eyes were on her as she and Cho entered. She had no doubt that the majority of the people were trying to figure out who she was, but she felt a thrill when she realized that at least a few of the glances were admiring. The whole thing felt like a dream.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and stood awkwardly for a moment, as the crowd remained still, watching as if waiting for something to happen. She saw Blaise Zabini pushing through the crowd, making his way over to Cho, and she looked away, blushing as she remembered what Cho had told her he’d said about her.
“Weasley!” he exclaimed, his voice low despite the surprise in his voice. He paused on his way over to the radiantly beaming Cho Chang, his dark eyes taking in the sight of Ginny Weasley wearing a magnificent dress. “You look really nice.”
Her heart soared to dizzying heights at his compliment, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. The fact that she was, despite the way she was currently dressed, a complete outsider and that come Monday morning, her dreary life at Hogwarts would return to normal once again – nothing mattered. It all just fell away.
“Zabini!” an irritated voice called out, snapping her out of her reverie. A chill ran down her spine as she spotted Draco Malfoy, his face a stony mask of anger, pushing through the circle of people around them.
“What’s the problem, Malfoy? You disagree?” Blaise asked with a wry smile.
“I happen to think the weasel looked better covered in mud, but that’s beside the point,” Malfoy said, stepping forward slowly, his movements seemingly casual but there was a strain of tension and barely contained anger behind them. Ginny felt her temper ignite at his casual insult. “The problem is the fact that you’re talking to her. You know I sent her a Howler. Who gave you permission to talk to her?”
“I’m not one of your brainless followers, Malfoy. I do what I please,” Blaise said, his voice deadly calm. Ginny, who moments before had felt giddying heights of joy, was now filled with horror. She was watching the only boy who’d ever really been nice to her argue with his best friend – because of her.
“Draco, as usual, you’re being frightfully obtuse and stubborn about this. Just agree with Blaise about how cute Ginny looks, and we can all get back to enjoying the party,” Cho suggested brightly, trying to dispel the sudden tension that filled the room. The stare-down between Blaise and Malfoy was interrupted as Malfoy turned to Cho, his eyes full of rage.
“I won’t let you speak to me like that, even if you are Cho Chang,” he said angrily.
“And I,” Blaise said, his voice commanding, stepping in front of Cho, “will not let you speak to her that way.”
“Stop interfering in matters that have nothing to do with you!” Malfoy spat.
“I’ll stop interfering once you stop acting like a mindless idiot,” Blaise said, his voice remarkably calm, still maintaining the neutral tone it always carried. Despite its neutrality, Malfoy apparently took his words the wrong way. His face flushing red, he pushed his best friend backwards. Blaise, obviously surprised, stumbled backwards a bit, as a chorus of shocked whispered filled the room.
Ginny had seen enough. Stomping forward, heedless of Cho’s delicate sandals that were on her feet and the yards of fabric that trailed after her, she marched over to the two quarreling idiots, and planted herself between them before Blaise could recover and retaliate, even as Malfoy took another step towards his friend, an intent look in his eyes. She intercepted him, and pushed him back as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, and stared at her with a look of anger and surprise on his face. Facing Malfoy, whose eyes were filled with anger, she crossed her arms and stuck her chin out in defiance as she moved closer to him, blocking him against a marble pillar, trying to put his own intimidation tactics to use against him.
“Once again, you bloody idiot, you’ve gotten it all wrong,” she cried out. “The person you have the problem with here is me, not bloody Blaise Zabini and quarreling with him just makes you look like an ass.”
Malfoy stared down at her with a queer look on his face. Too late, she realized why. Looking above her in horror, she spotted the trick mistletoe hanging so innocuously above them. Feeling panicked, her met Malfoy’s, who had a look on his face that indicated that he was at least as equally horrified as she was. She could feel the spell take effect, propelling her forward even as she struggled against it. Within the blink of an eye, before her mind could properly grasp what she was doing and fight against the spell, she’d leaned against him, lifted her face towards his as his hands reached up to her face, guiding her. His face moved towards hers, and she closed her eyes tightly, willing this nightmare to end. She felt his lips press against hers while she struggled internally force her body to pull away, but the spell was too strong and she was unable to do anything but stand still as he kissed her.
After two seconds, the spell dissipated and she was able to move of her own free will. Jumping away from each other as if they’d been burned, Ginny took little comfort in the fact that he appeared as appalled as she felt. She backed away, her eyes locked on his, her heart pounding in her chest, barely able to breathe. She could hear everyone around them laughing in shock and the whispered comments as their audience tried to understand what had just happened. Tearing her eyes away from his intent gaze, she looked around her, at all the eyes on her that had just witnessed the horrible series of events that had just culminated in her very first kiss, courtesy of a piece of bloody spelled mistletoe.
She fled the room, pushing her way through the crowd, desperate to get away from it all; the staring, the mocking laughter, but most of all, that pair of grey eyes that were staring at her so intently, looking almost apologetically.
“Did you see the way she threw herself at Draco Malfoy? I never believed what those posters said about her, but now, I can’t be sure,” she heard a snide voice comment as she rushed past. She found the first set of doors she could find, and throwing them open, bursting outinto the cold night air.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her hasty retreat through the first door she could find had led her outdoors, to one of the Changs’ many gardens. Gasping for breath, placing a shaking hand against her stomach, she looked around her, trying to figure out where she was on their grounds, so that she could blast her way through the hedge out on the street, where she would grab her broken broom and fly as far away from this place as possible. Placing a hand against the smooth marble wall, she leaned against it, needing the support as her knees had grown weak. Her stomach was churning sickeningly, and the very fact that she couldn’t figure out if it was horror or something else completely that was affecting her so deeply did not make her feel any better. That instant, that terrible split-second that had destroyed the perfect image she’d always had about how her first kiss would take place, was replaying through her mind, making it harder to breath even as the cool air caressed her burning skin.
Hermione’s words of warning ran through her head, the way she’d warned her not to become too attached to her romantic notions because real life hardly ever turned out the way one would imagine it, and as her own hopes came crashing down around her, Ginny realized that she was right. “Love isn’t all moonlight and magic fairy gardens – it can be just as ugly and mundane as everything else around us,” Hermione had said. “I just hope that with all these notions and expectations you have about first kisses and such, that you’re not too disappointed with reality.” Well, Hermione had been correct, as always. Reality was terribly disappointing. Feeling tears begin to burn behind her eyes, she exhaled slowly, trying to dispel them. Something as stupid as not taking place the way she’d always hoped was nothing to cry about after all, she kept trying to tell herself.
That was how Draco found her, after he’d followed her out of the ballroom, leaning against the wall, gasping with a hand pressed against her stomach, obviously upset. She’d found her way to the most boasted-about feature of the Changs’ estate – one of the last inhabited fairy gardens in Europe, which explained the way the bushes and trees were lit with soft white light, as the tiny magical creatures emanated a bright glow as they flitted about, from tree to flower. Standing with her back to him, he was struck by the total effect: the soft way the moonlight was reflecting off her bright hair, the way the light of the fairies illuminated the brilliant color of her dress. Looking around him, he decided that this was as good a place as any. He’d seen the devastated look in her eyes once the spell had run its course and they’d regained control of their bodies, and the way it had made him feel uncomfortably guilty had compelled him to follow her out there.
His footsteps as he moved towards her caught her attention, and she turned around, caught off guard. The second she set eyes on him, she started backing away. He paused, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes serious as they met hers. Her heart immediately began to race, and she cursed the talent Draco Malfoy had for continually catching her while she was in her most vulnerable state. She could the feel the tears that had been threatening her earlier welling in her eyes, and she struggled to regain her composure, but it was so hard, with the way he was staring at her and the memory of his lips pressed against hers still making her stomach flutter.
“Was that your first kiss?” he asked, his voice low. Meeting his eyes, she was struck by the way the moonlight altered their color, giving their usual cold grey a silvery sheen. Bristling at that thought, she tossed her head back and relied on her best defense mechanism.
“What, a dirt poor common prostitute like me? Surely you must be joking!” she declared acidly, looking away. He moved in closer, those ever-observant eyes seeing through her weak defense, spotting the telltale shine of unshed tears in her eyes.
“Not exactly the way you’d imagined it,” he said simply, as if he was stating a well known fact. As she stared at him in shock, he leaned in closer, his face a breadth away from hers, forcing her to move back against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaky. He smiled softly.
“Just be a good girl and hold still, and we’ll see if we can’t create something a touch more romantic,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine. Before his words could register, one of his arms had wound itself around her waist, pulling her against him as the other reach up, cupping her face, guiding it towards his as he kissed her.
Shocked beyond all rational thought, she tried to pull away, but his arm was wrapped too tightly around her waist. But then, as his lips moved gently against hers, the strangest thing happened. A thrilling sensation overwhelmed her senses, running down her spine to tingle in her toes, and it rendered her completely unable to resist as she gave into the amazing sensations filling her body. His thumb was gently stroking her skin where he held her, and even though her mind was still sputtering over the fact that Draco Malfoy was kissing her, she felt herself melt against his body and began to respond.
It was all so foreign to her – she didn’t know how to breathe, what to do with her hands, whether or not she should open her eyes or keep them closed. But as she tentatively moved a hand to rest at his waist, his lips still moving gently against hers, he pulled her even closer to him, pressing her body right against him, deepening the kiss, igniting a desperate need within her that left her gasping and startled.
He pulled away gently, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Blinking, she remembered to start breathing again, and the reality of who this was, that the person who had just kissed her in a bloody moonlit fairy garden was someone she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Backing away, struggling out of the grip he had on her, she pushed him away, feeling disoriented as she stumbled away, clutching her shaking hands to her chest as she tried to regain control of her senses, which were still buzzing with excitement.
Malfoy was staring at her, a slightly smug grin on his face and a soft look in his eyes, looking extremely pleased with himself. It was such a change from the furious person who’d earlier fought with his best friend. At the thought of Blaise, Ginny’s hand moved to her lips in horror. What if he’d seen them? After she’d been the cause of a row between him and his friend, it was probably not good form to get caught snogging said best friend. She looked around her, terrified that someone had been watching the entire scene.
“Bloody hell, do you think anyone saw that?” she asked Malfoy, her voice shaky. His face changed slowly, from the smug smile and soft light in his eyes to hard and cold. He stared at her, stone-faced, for a moment while he adjusted his black dress robes.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you,” his said, his voice deadly soft. She was taken aback by the sudden coldness, and felt a strange twist of guilt as he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in a garden that was softly swaying with the light of fairies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N:
Drawn from HYD:
1) pretty much everything that happens during the scenes at the party is inspired by the dorama; the fact that she arrives in the wrong kind of outfit, the way Pansy picks on her, Blaise’s comment, Cho helping her out, dressing her, the fight between Malfoy and Zabini, the accidental kiss (although with my own twist on it). The scene at the end was inspired by a scene in Meteor Garden (Taiwanese version of HYD), where the main boy follows the girl outside afterwards and offers to make the kiss a “little more romantic”. However, my version is very different, and the rest of that scene, such as it is,is my own creation, having been unsatisfied with how that scene ended in the series. Despite these plot points, the characters' motivations, emotions, thoughts and the dialogue are all my own.
I have no idea when the next update will come. Best place to find out is my LJ, where I often post about the fic itself as well as cookies and fic bits as I write the next chapter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leave a Review