“The independent girl is a person before whose wrath only the most rash dare stand, and, they, it must be confessed, with much fear and trembling” – Lou Henry Hoover

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Draco Malfoy is – sort of, not really, and it certainly wouldn’t appear that way to others, because there’s no reason for it to, because he’s not actually scared.

He’s no Gryffindor, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plenty brave. He’s just not stupid about it; he can recognize when it’s fine to keep on worsening Longbottom’s lack of self-esteem, but he also knows when it’s better to tell Filch about Potter rather than actually sneaking out to engage in an idiotic duel.

Which is not to say he’d pull anything like the latter ever again. He’s moved far beyond such childish stunts.

In any case: at this particular point in time, despite being perfectly well equipped in the courage department, Draco is just slightly (and very logically)… frightened.

By a girl.

Of course, she’s not any normal girl, Draco’s known that for years. She’s a special girl, and as such far more frightening than any twelve normal girls together. For one thing, she’s feisty on any normal occasion. In the past Draco’s admired this, along with her zest and biting tongue. He’s even been attracted to the way that she has no trouble standing up to him or anyone else who bothers her.

He’s even, he realizes with horror, witnessed an instance of her fury and thought it sexy.

Of course, that was when she was angry with her brother, not him. But still, Draco had never thought that merely switching roles would change the situation so dramatically; enough to actually make him fear for his life.

He tries to remember that he’s a year older, and could definitely outmatch her in any fight, magical or physical. Probably.

In the future, Draco will have to remember to stay away during this time of month. And whenever she’s got that expression on her face. And to never greet her with a cheeky smirk and a wink, just in case.

…Actually, he’s really not sure what he did wrong. Draco had thought he was flirting. And, yes, perhaps Ginny Weasley is the one girl in the castle who might not find this an appealing thought (something Draco is privately determined to remedy), but this reaction is a bit out of line. A bit off-putting, too. She’ll regret this when Draco never flirts with her again (because he’s so likely to follow through on that).

“Well?” she demands, as he notices with dismay that his back is literally at a wall. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Draco has his pride. He is a strong man who values his principles above all else. Staying true to them now will require great finesse and caution, as currently two are in an all-out war: never lose to a Weasley and do whatever it takes to stay alive.

“I have several things to say for myself,” Draco says accordingly, after a moment’s pause, “namely that I do not have to answer to you, Weaselette. None of what I do is your business; now quit loitering before I dock House points.”

Because really, mocking Weasleys is far more important than survival, especially since when his father found out, as he always did, he would just end up killing Draco anyway.

Draco regrets his choice moments later when Ginny slams forward until her nose is practically smushing his own, fury written in every line of her body.

It’s rather funny, actually, if one thought about it detachedly: here Draco is, slammed against the wall by a very pretty girl, and his reaction is far from pleased. Her body moves forward with her head, feet crowding next to his – Draco jams his heels hard into the wall and presses every point of his spine back into it, too. Her nose is as previously stated, right up in the space of his own, which also means that her mouth is directly beneath both noses, along with his own. He can feel her hot, angry breath on his lips – he holds his breath. Her intense eyes are right in front of his own, glaring with all the heat of the sun – he doesn’t smile but instead stares back, trying not to blink and show weakness so much that his vision blurs and her eyes merge into one large frightening orb in front of him.

In short, Draco does not enjoy this even though he by all means should. Ginny does not appear to enjoy this either, by the way she’s shouting at him: “You bastard Draco, how dare you talk to me about your life being none of my business when you’re always going out of your way to insult me and butt your nose into my life – and my nose is NOT BUMPY, by the way!”

She pauses, and Draco opens his mouth – but the break was just for a breath, and she runs right over his unformed words, “And while we’re talking about it” – they aren’t talking so far as Draco knows, much less about bumpy noses or whatever the mental leap Ginny made from there might turn out to be, but he doesn’t really have a chance to protest – “how dare you try to date Astoria? She’s my friend, and she’s a whole two years younger than you! Leave her alone! And me, too! Leave me alone! Do you understand, Malfoy? I want you to leave me alone and never talk to me again, especially not about Astoria and whatever you’re doing, which you shouldn’t, by the way!”

With one last, fervent huff, Ginny whirls on her feet – they are in such close proximity that her hair slams into Draco’s face and also his open mouth and he is fairly certain he chokes but she does not seem to notice or care about his fate – and storms away. Draco is left behind, pressed up against the wall in utter confusion, and it is only when she is far away and turning the corner that he recovers enough to shout, “Twenty points from Gryffindor for harassing a Prefect, Weasley!”

He still feels like he came out worse.

Not lost, because Malfoys don’t lose to Weasleys, but… Ginny was the one who vented her emotions and walked away with her head held high. Draco just sort of stood there and let her yell at him.

Next time he will respond –no, next time he will anticipate her and either make a tactical retreat or strike the first debilitating blow. Either way, he will engineer it so that he is clearly the victor, as he should be.

Yes. That sounds good.

However, as Draco peels himself off the wall and tries to remember his original destination, he can’t really feel satisfied. It takes him a few moments to pinpoint the feeling and when he does, a very un-winner-like bewilderment settles over him once more.

What exactly did he do to set her off in the first place?

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It is one of Draco’s personal rules to always go to bed in a good mood – i.e., smug in some way or another. It’s normally no problem for him to dig something up that makes him smirk disgustingly as he drifts away – in the past anything from his popularity and good grades to recalling the day’s firstie-torturing to winning a Quidditch game to even just reminding himself that he was rich had all sufficed.

Even if he didn’t do anything particularly interesting or smirk-worthy, Draco has a knack for putting himself on a pedestal. It is a skill encouraged from birth in the Malfoy Manor, and Draco has completely mastered it.

And this is why it comes as such a surprise to Draco that today, none of his failsafes seem to work. Remembering how he secretly Accioed McMillan’s ‘lucky’ quill in the two seconds before an important test in Charms and snickered at his bewildered and crestfallen face for the rest of the period does not work. Draco works through all the applicable events of his day, and is shocked when even thinking of Potter receiving another failing grade in Potions as Snape praised him in front of class doesn’t do a thing to boost his spirits.

Eventually, it all comes down to this – Draco is fairly certain despite whatever he says that today he was both afraid of and lost to a Weasley. The fact that is the female one only makes this slightly more acceptable, and until this is fixed he will not be able to sleep.

It takes him twenty minutes, several exclamations of confusion, and one rant about what was so wrong with winking in greeting anyway, before one thing stood out to Draco. Greengrass – Astoria that is, the young pretty one he went to Hogsmeade with over the weekend. He remembers it mostly as the day he saw the Weaselette doused head-to-foot in obnoxious green paint (classic), but the half-date with the younger student is hovering around in his memory as well.

More importantly, it is certainly on Ginny Weasley’s mind. Enough so that she is going out of her way to scream at Draco about the other girl in a fit of – perhaps? – jealousy.

Draco thinks on this for two seconds, then falls asleep, smirking broadly.

This should be fun.