The note had been delivered quite early in the day; Ginny had just woken up when a school owl started tapping insistently on the dorm room window. The other girls in the dorm crowded around and took the note off the owl’s outstretched leg. An excited silence descended, followed by a disappointed murmur. Ginny, who had just finished dressing, walked over. “What does it say?”

It was with a sigh that her roommate replied. “The next Hogsmeade weekend has been set back a week until the 24th at the request of some teachers, in order for further preparation and concentration on assessment tasks.”

“What?” Ginny asked furiously. “This is Snape’s doing, you mark my words. Let me see that. We’ll fight it all the way to the Headmaster if we have to.”

She snatched the paper from her roommate to see the note for herself. As she watched, however, the official note changed. Some of the letters faded, others changed and still more appeared. The note rearranged itself to something entirely different.

The girls stared at her. “What happened to ‘we’ll fight it all the way to the Headmaster if we have to’?”

She blushed and shrugged awkwardly. “Nothing, just…let’s go, shall we?”

They must think she was mental, but since they were used to the Weasleys by now, they just shrugged and kept getting ready.

The hours until seven dragged by. She must have filled her time with something, but when she tried to remember exactly what is was that she’d done, she drew a total blank. Vaguely, she could recall talking to Hermione and laughing with Ron. She was pretty sure she’d done some kind of work, but when she thought about what, nothing came to mind.

She was caught in an agony of suspense. Their confrontation the day before had been, well, frightening and revealing in its intensity. When she had kissed him; there’d been no thought of revenge there. Merlin help her, all she’d thought about was how much she wanted to keep kissing him.

She had to stop it. So he was a good kisser. A really good kisser. Just because he knew exactly how to kiss her to draw the most reaction didn’t mean she would spend all her time thinking about his lips on hers, the way his hands had gripped her arms, the way his chest had felt under her hands… No, she wouldn’t waste her time. She would not lose sight of her goal. He was an arrogant prat, a bastard, a little shit, and it was time he got his comeuppance.

With that in mind, she set off to the Quidditch pitch at exactly ten past seven. It wouldn’t do for him to think that she was eager or anything.

He was standing alone when she first caught glimpse of him. His hair was silver in the moonlight, though she knew that by day there would always be that faint tinge of yellow. His skin was pale and almost ethereal, which caught her off guard and made her almost wary. She didn’t want him to look otherworldly or angelic. She wanted him to look exactly like he was – a twerp.

“You know Weasley,” he remarked as she approached. “I’m not sure your parents would be too happy to hear about you meeting strange boys in deserted places.”

She raised an eyebrow as she strolled over, ever so nonchalantly. “I’m not sure that your parents would be too happy to hear about your secret meetings with girls who are actually, you know…decent,” she retorted, “but then, it’s quite hard to get in contact with prisoners, I’ve heard.”

He gave no outward reaction. She ignored, again, how utterly handsome he looked in this light. Generally, blondes were not her type at all. They were far too open and readable, with far too little depth and too much of the ‘good boy’ feeling emanating from them. Draco, on the other hand, was different. His expressions were carefully guarded, and there was an air of mystery around him that she found irresistibly attractive. He was one of those boys who had a brooding, smouldering thing about them – now that was the kind of guy she was attracted to. Harry had it; Tom Riddle had had it, even Michael had it, to some extent.

She definitely enjoyed a good mystery.

And while Draco was a terrible person and she was going to enjoy crushing him, it came as a relief that she would be able to stomach the necessary physical side of the plan. Not that she would sleep with him just to further her plan, oh no, but she would most definitely encourage any physical attraction he held towards her. Everyone knew that the way to a man’s heart was through, not his stomach, but the thing that occupied his mind much, much more.

“So what did you invite me down here for, Malfoy?”

“Mostly to see if you’d come,” he replied. “Tell me, Weasley, how does it feel to know that you’ve put yourself at my beck and call?”

“One meeting is not at your beck and call, Malfoy, although I’d suppose that you’d know all about that, right? Tell me, when the Dark Lord summons, how much does your arm burn?” She grinned as she asked the question, pleased with her performance in this game so far. Parry. Thrust.

She hadn’t considered his reaction to her statement.

An unbecoming mauve hue stained his cheeks, his jaw clenched and his eyes turned cold. “How dare you speak to me like that?” His hands grasped her upper arms like a painful vice. “You make assumptions that you know nothing about,” he clipped out through clenched teeth. “My family could burn yours, and yet here you are, standing here, daring me to hurt you. You are full of asinine bravado, Weasley.”

Despite the fear in her chest and the pain in her arms, she grinned. “But that’s what you like about me, Malfoy.”

As his face, as it descended towards hers, was full of annoyance. His lips were soft and she could feel herself melting again. The night had grown chilly; the kiss was anything but. His hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, engulfing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck once more trying to get closer to him. They were so close that she felt as if she couldn’t pull away; Merlin help her, she didn’t want to. She was sucked down and under, like a drowned person giving their last gasping breath before succumbing to the overpowering undertow.

It was Malfoy who pulled away first. “We can’t do this here,” he said with a little grimace. Ginny licked her lips and nodded absently. She was still shaken and he looked so adorable mussed. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and she could almost feel them again, his mouth slanting over hers, rough and gentle and warm...

He groaned and kissed her quickly, then grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the Slytherin changing rooms.

“Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly, trailing a step behind him.

He looked back at her, one eyebrow arched sardonically. “We’re going somewhere a little more private than the middle of the Quidditch pitch, if that’s all right with you?”

She was a little put out about the fact that while she was swept up into the moment, he was perfectly able to keep his wits about him. “Maybe we should just leave it here, Malfoy?”

He gave a little shudder. “Princess, if you think I’m just going to let you walk away, knowing that you’ll be thinking about me as much as I will about you, then you really are crazy.”

She should have been upset about his presumption that she’d be thinking about him, but instead she felt a thrill shoot through her. “You’d be thinking about me?” He let out a grunt, which she assumed was an agreement. Ginny couldn’t help but smile to herself, in a pleased, flattered sort of way. Her ego demanded that she kept fishing. “What would you be thinking?”

He entered the room, pulled her aside and at the same time twirled her so she was flush against the wall next to the door. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice a husky tenor, “and I’ll show you…”

How could she resist such temptation?

It was many minutes before she could think again. He’d pulled himself away from her, or perhaps she’d pushed him. Regardless, the end result was, he was leaning against a locker barely a metre away from her, breathing hard, and she was desperately trying to keep her knees for collapsing underneath her.

Her lips trembled as she sucked in a breath. He licked his lips and looked towards the ceiling, as if deep in prayer. “What is it about you?” he asked idly. “How is it that when I’m around you I can’t keep my hands off you?” She bit her lip to keep from smiling. He sent her an annoyed glance. “It’s not funny. It’s like you’re electric. A simple touch and I have to have more.”

“Somehow,” she said with a trembling smile, “I can relate to that.”

“I never thought I’d ever suggest this, ever,” he muttered. “But perhaps we could...ban...snogging while we...get to know each other better?” She giggled. When he’d realised what he’d said, he went white. “Oh, Merlin, Weasley, you’ve turned me into a woman.”

There was a genuine grin on her face, and she folded her arms over her chest, enjoying the sudden knock to his confidence. “Maybe I’m just helping you get in touch with your feminine side, Malfoy.”

A suggestive leer came over his face, and his eyes looked her up and down, moving towards her deliberately. “Frankly, princess, I’d rather get in touch with your feminine side.”

Laughing, she put her hands on his chest, pushing him, ineffectively, away. “This is getting ridiculous. We need to...” she dodged his lips so that he ended up kissing her cheek. He didn’t seem to mind much, trailing little kisses along her cheekbone until he reached her ear. “...to concentrate on getting to know each other...”

“Yes,” he whispered, and she shivered as she felt his hot breath on her air. “I think it’s very important to get to know each other much better.” He kissed just below her ear and she lost her train of thought for a second.

“That’s not...not what I meant, and you know it. We have to...” concentrate on not getting in too deep. “Stop,” she demanded, more forcefully that she thought was possible.

He pulled away from her, sighed and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He took her hand, led her over to a bench and sat down on a seat facing – but about a metre and a half away from – her. When she bit her lip at such distance between them, he looked at her as if to say, Well? You wanted us to stop.

“So,” she said hesitantly. “Um...when...were...you born?”

He snorted. “5th of June. And if this is the best you can do, perhaps we could get back to more important things.”

She blushed. “Well, I don’t know, I can’t come up with conversation on demand, you know!”

He laughed softly to himself. “This is verging on the ridiculous, Weasley, and I have other things I ought to be doing.”

She nodded resolutely. “I do too. And meeting with you, in secret, all this – it’s ridiculous. We should just call it quits now. But, thanks for everything, Malfoy.” She stood and start to walk out the door.

He caught her wrist with a growl. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just not going to answer a damned survey to assuage your need to ‘know’ me. I’m not going to let you walk away from this yet. Meet me this weekend, we’ll set an off-limits rule and we’ll enjoy each other’s company.”

Ginny smiled and it lit up her whole face. “That sounds...nice.” She said, nodding. “Well,...bye.”

Again, he caught her wrist and turned her around. “Kiss me goodbye.” She looked at him warily, not wanting to get held up again by a full on snogging session. He just grinned mischievously. Who would have thought that Malfoy could be mischievous? His hand was still around her wrist, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t let her go until she complied.

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. Not quite a peck, but certainly nothing a torrid as their previous exchanges, to her it seemed almost...sweet. She pulled away and smiled up at him. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

He just nodded.