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The Mischief Maker
Three heavy books thudded loudly onto her table but Ginny didn’t bother to look up. She already knew who it was. Pestering her was one of Malfoy’s favourite hobbies and he knew the library was the only place she couldn’t retaliate. As usual, the moment after he sat down he tangled their legs together. “Aren’t you sick of this game yet?” she demanded.
“Not even nearly,” he replied. She pulled her legs up, crossing them beneath her.
“As you will. The show should be starting soon anyway.”
“What show?”
He gestured vaguely to the bookshelf nearest them. There was a series of large gaps, the books and scrolls in boxes beneath it. There was a crack in the wood, running down the vertical slats.
“Did you do that?”
“I admit nothing,” he replied, whilst making exaggerated nodding motions of his head.
She played with her quill distractedly until Filch appeared and began pushing putty into the crack. Madam Pince arrived at the same time, rearranging the books and the two worked silently, side by side. Every line of their bodies communicated tension and every little, yearning side-long glance so absurd that their two observers were in fits of silent giggles.
She would admit that Malfoy had produced some decent pranks in his time. The outrageous incident with the absinthe in Professor Flitwick’s morning juice had already passed into school legend. This mischievous bout of matchmaking showed his subtlety but only proved that mischief was his only use. The next week, he broke the fireplace – somehow – and, while watching the two old folk do their polite little dance of seduction was amusing if mean-spirited, it was cold that day.
“Stop shivering or they’ll notice us,” Malfoy muttered, craning his neck to try and see around a stone pillar.
“I’m sure they can see us,” Ginny replied. She was huddled up very small in her chair. That day had been the first time that she hadn’t pulled away the moment he started trying to play footsie with her.
“I’m sure they can, but whether or not they realise we’re gawping at them is another matter entirely.”
Ginny made no reply, shivering so hard that she made a small unhappy noise. He was smiling. “Shut up,” she ordered unhappily.
“I can’t help it. I’ve never seen you quite so pathetic.”
He got up out of his chair and came around to her other side, stripping his outer robe as he went. When he draped it over her, she almost moaned for the delicious warmth of it. She didn’t even stop to question that it was Malfoy’s, tucking it around herself gratefully. He sat in the seat next to her, leaning towards her slightly to see what was going on at the fireplace.
He seemed so much bigger in close proximity. She could see far too many details. Details were bad. Malfoy was far too easy on the eyes to think about in physical terms. Well, she thought he was anyway. He didn’t really have classic good looks, but there was something about him that was so dangerously attractive. Some girls abused his looks terribly but then, they were all scorned lovers. Ginny liked that his smile was lopsided and thought his hair rakish rather than unkempt.
“Why are you looking at me?” he demanded. “It’s very rude of you, what with me setting up this spectacle purely for your enjoyment.”
“You set it up for your enjoyment. Either that or you’re a closet matchmaker.”
“Oh please. I believe if two people can’t find their way to each other then they probably don’t belong together in the first place.”
“You believe in romance,” she said, smirking.
“I believe in little more than the ultimate redundancy of life,” he replied as if she had hurt his feelings with the mere suggestion of romance.
Their chatter had done what Ginny’s shivering had not. “You two,” snapped Madam Pince, leaving Filch’s side for a moment. “It’s almost curfew. Go to your dorms.”
You didn’t argue with Madam Pince. She took exception to any defiance, hugely threatened by any student she suspected may be smarter than her.
“Ten galleons say they go at it the moment we leave,” he muttered to her as they left.
“No way. I wouldn’t take that bet if I had the money to back it up.”
“You really do bring my torment down on yourself, don’t you?” His voice was louder now that they’d reached the corridor. There was a torch set to either side of the library door but most of them had been turned down for the night. It was very close indeed to curfew. If they didn’t know Filch’s whereabouts, they would have been in serious danger of losing house points.
“I do not. A decent person would have let go of that blatant opportunity for comment on my poverty. Besides, it would be so easy a taunt that it’d be beneath you.”
“When did I give you the impression I was decent? I suppose I’d better walk you to your common room.”
He was apparently unaware of the dichotomy of his words, falling into step beside her. “Why so chivalrous, Malfoy?”
He shrugged. “Tonight’s theme. Lord knows you don’t need an escort. If anything attacks us, you’re more likely to be the one protecting me.”
It was very dark. The torches gave up tiny glows from their embers but nothing more. In the middle of the castle, there was not even moonlight for them to see by. Ginny told herself that that was why they were close. Close enough for their hands to brush every once and a while. By the dim light, she could just make out the outline of his face. He really was very tall. She came to his chin, and she was by no means short.
The light, insulting banter between them came to an end as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. The next time their fingers brushed, Malfoy caught her pinky, holding it, caressing the back of her hand. She didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. She found that her breath was racing and one of her fingers slid across his palm of its own accord. Suddenly, he seized her whole arm and dragged her into the mouth of another corridor, pushing her none too gently against the wall.
“Malfoy,” she said in warning, but nothing was happening. She could hear him breathing hard, but could see very little of him in the dark. She gasped as his lips touched hers, feather-light. She was paralysed. Soft, hot kisses, the pressure of his lean body against hers, the excitement roiling in her belly, it was more than she could bear. Just as his fingers burrowed into her hair, she pushed him away. He didn’t go very far. “Malfoy, no,” she said quite firmly. There was more regret in her voice than she would have liked to admit. Her knees were shaking.
“Weasley, I... I want to make it clear that I’m after you. I figured you hadn’t realised.... May as well steal a kiss at the same time.”
“You’re after me?” she repeated, not believing it even as she said it. “Why?”
“Because. You’re sexy and clever and wicked and bright and so beautiful I could cry. You sometimes do this cute little crinkly thing with your nose. It drives me insane.”
His teeth were bared as his lower lip brushed over her nose, then her cheek. She had to stop him before he bit her earlobe. Then she’d be in trouble.
She put her hand on his chest, pushing gently but firmly. “Malfoy....”
“What?” He was panting, steeling himself for rejection; she could tell.
“I can’t... it isn’t viable,” she told him, trying desperately to order her thoughts and feelings into words and sentences. It was difficult. She didn’t want to offend him, but didn’t want to give him hope. It wasn’t likely he’d take a scorning gracefully.
“Isn’t viable?” he repeated as if the phrase amused him. “Why not? I’m a man, you’re a woman, both of us in perfect health.”
“If you recall we’re at opposite ends of the social spectrum with vastly different beliefs, ideals and bank accounts. My brother would be very happy if you died, and I don’t know if you know, but your father once tried to kill me. And while you do have your charms, I don’t trust that this isn’t some sort of scheme designed to humiliate me if I agree to anything.”
“Why do you have to be so logical?” he pouted.
“One of us has to be. I do a crinkly thing with my nose? What kind of basis is that for any sort of action?”
“You’re not supposed to take it like that. You’re supposed to say ‘oh, Malfoy, you think my queer habits are cute? How handsome of you.’”
She couldn’t help giggling. In the meantime, he buried his face against her neck. She had to admit that it was nice being in his arms. She often felt alone, bored or depressed, but never when Malfoy was tormenting her. The thought made her smile. He must have felt this and took the opportunity to kiss her again. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the simple and immense pleasure of it, before she realised what she was doing and pushed him off her entirely.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She had been glad to think that it was the end of it, and that it had all gone so easily. There was such a capacity for disaster with Malfoy. Even though she’d been happy that he’d gotten the message, she didn’t sleep much that night, mind playing over the things he said, the stolen kisses, and the feel of his strong arms around her, his breath hot against her neck.
The next morning, it was difficult to know what to do at breakfast. On the one hand, she didn’t want him to catch her looking at him. But on the other hand, he had sounded awfully keen on her, and she wanted to see him, just to gauge how hard he was taking it. It was vain that she was so flattered, and it was stupid, very stupid that she was disappointed when he didn’t come to breakfast.
When she exited the Hall for Transfiguration, a shape peeled itself away from the wall, attaching to her. It was him, of course. She did nothing other than raise her eyebrows at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”
“Oh?” she said as if she was uninterested.
“I did call it logical at the time, but the more I think about it, the less I give a shit.”
“How sweet of you to say so,” she remarked sarcastically.
“I’m after you,” he said as if it were a threat. He was wearing a mischievous smile that put dimples in his cheeks, leaving after giving her hair a short, affectionate tug.
“What was that about?” Luna caught up with her as she continued on her way.
“He’s found a new way to pester me. I’m waiting until he gets bored.”
It was almost the truth.
She didn’t really know how long she had expected him to take to hit this period of boredom she had such faith in. But, by the aggressive way he pursued her over the following weeks, she didn’t think it was going to be soon.
He wasn’t conventional about it, in fact he was still perfectly happy to row with her, to say cruel things to her friends and generally be the gigantic git that he had always had been. He didn’t offer to carry her books, ever, which was the usual way for a boy to mark his territory at that time at Hogwarts. Although, he did once punch out an obnoxious housemate of his who bothered her even more than he did. That was sort of sweet.
He did continue to sit with her whenever he found her in the library, and would even help her with her homework if she needed it. If he saw her at all during their free time, he would follow her around like a puppy, pestering her into conversation. People may not have even noticed; their fights were as much of a fixture of the school as Harry Potter. However, the pursuit part of this new game came in a tactile form. Sometimes it wasn’t much, just a little tug on the end of her plait or the sleeve of her robe. Occasionally he’d pat her on the bottom, just to get a reaction, and often he’d grab her into a hug which she admitted to enjoying as much as she did wrestling out of them. Ron had to witness him kissing her on the cheek before he realised that something was off.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, stomping over to them.
“Nothing much. I was just going to take your sister off for an afternoon of hot, steamy sex. See you.” He began dragging her away.
“See you at dinner, Ron. Wait-" She pretended to be fooled by Malfoy’s playful ruse, making him snigger. “What would you have done if I had gone along with it the whole way?”
“I’d start at the back of your knee,” he began with a feral look in his eyes. Ginny was thankful that Ron shut him up with a drawn wand. Having him say sexy things, or even the word bad in his aristocratic accent usually did worrying things to her knees.
“Shut your filthy mouth!” Ron roared.
“Take it easy, Weasel, I was only playing around. Except about the back of her knee. And the... okay I wasn’t playing around.” He glanced at Ron and then turned back to Ginny. “What do I say now? He’s turning all purple.”
“It's all right, Ron. Malfoy’s got a pathetic new game where he pretends he fancies me and uses it as an excuse to sexually harass me.”
“That’s mean,” Malfoy said, and sounded as if he meant it. He had managed to angle his body in such a way that Ron became excluded from the conversation. Ron retreated to the sidelines. He’d learned by now not to interfere in Ginny’s affairs.
“Its true, isn’t it? Maybe not the pretending bit, maybe you think you might feel something for me, but I’m right about it being a game.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is. It’s the chase. Before you deny it again, take a look at that long line of conquests and that slutty reputation you have behind you.”
His eyes were hot with anger as he started forward as if to brush past her. He stopped at her shoulder, however, and looked behind him with deliberate slowness. “I don’t see anything,” he said, lips a whisper from her ear, tone dangerous. “All I see is you.”
For a moment, Ginny couldn’t move. She let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “That was such a good line,” she whispered to no one. The corridors were emptying. She was there all alone.
Three heavy books thudded loudly onto her table but Ginny didn’t bother to look up. She already knew who it was. Pestering her was one of Malfoy’s favourite hobbies and he knew the library was the only place she couldn’t retaliate. As usual, the moment after he sat down he tangled their legs together. “Aren’t you sick of this game yet?” she demanded.
“Not even nearly,” he replied. She pulled her legs up, crossing them beneath her.
“As you will. The show should be starting soon anyway.”
“What show?”
He gestured vaguely to the bookshelf nearest them. There was a series of large gaps, the books and scrolls in boxes beneath it. There was a crack in the wood, running down the vertical slats.
“Did you do that?”
“I admit nothing,” he replied, whilst making exaggerated nodding motions of his head.
She played with her quill distractedly until Filch appeared and began pushing putty into the crack. Madam Pince arrived at the same time, rearranging the books and the two worked silently, side by side. Every line of their bodies communicated tension and every little, yearning side-long glance so absurd that their two observers were in fits of silent giggles.
She would admit that Malfoy had produced some decent pranks in his time. The outrageous incident with the absinthe in Professor Flitwick’s morning juice had already passed into school legend. This mischievous bout of matchmaking showed his subtlety but only proved that mischief was his only use. The next week, he broke the fireplace – somehow – and, while watching the two old folk do their polite little dance of seduction was amusing if mean-spirited, it was cold that day.
“Stop shivering or they’ll notice us,” Malfoy muttered, craning his neck to try and see around a stone pillar.
“I’m sure they can see us,” Ginny replied. She was huddled up very small in her chair. That day had been the first time that she hadn’t pulled away the moment he started trying to play footsie with her.
“I’m sure they can, but whether or not they realise we’re gawping at them is another matter entirely.”
Ginny made no reply, shivering so hard that she made a small unhappy noise. He was smiling. “Shut up,” she ordered unhappily.
“I can’t help it. I’ve never seen you quite so pathetic.”
He got up out of his chair and came around to her other side, stripping his outer robe as he went. When he draped it over her, she almost moaned for the delicious warmth of it. She didn’t even stop to question that it was Malfoy’s, tucking it around herself gratefully. He sat in the seat next to her, leaning towards her slightly to see what was going on at the fireplace.
He seemed so much bigger in close proximity. She could see far too many details. Details were bad. Malfoy was far too easy on the eyes to think about in physical terms. Well, she thought he was anyway. He didn’t really have classic good looks, but there was something about him that was so dangerously attractive. Some girls abused his looks terribly but then, they were all scorned lovers. Ginny liked that his smile was lopsided and thought his hair rakish rather than unkempt.
“Why are you looking at me?” he demanded. “It’s very rude of you, what with me setting up this spectacle purely for your enjoyment.”
“You set it up for your enjoyment. Either that or you’re a closet matchmaker.”
“Oh please. I believe if two people can’t find their way to each other then they probably don’t belong together in the first place.”
“You believe in romance,” she said, smirking.
“I believe in little more than the ultimate redundancy of life,” he replied as if she had hurt his feelings with the mere suggestion of romance.
Their chatter had done what Ginny’s shivering had not. “You two,” snapped Madam Pince, leaving Filch’s side for a moment. “It’s almost curfew. Go to your dorms.”
You didn’t argue with Madam Pince. She took exception to any defiance, hugely threatened by any student she suspected may be smarter than her.
“Ten galleons say they go at it the moment we leave,” he muttered to her as they left.
“No way. I wouldn’t take that bet if I had the money to back it up.”
“You really do bring my torment down on yourself, don’t you?” His voice was louder now that they’d reached the corridor. There was a torch set to either side of the library door but most of them had been turned down for the night. It was very close indeed to curfew. If they didn’t know Filch’s whereabouts, they would have been in serious danger of losing house points.
“I do not. A decent person would have let go of that blatant opportunity for comment on my poverty. Besides, it would be so easy a taunt that it’d be beneath you.”
“When did I give you the impression I was decent? I suppose I’d better walk you to your common room.”
He was apparently unaware of the dichotomy of his words, falling into step beside her. “Why so chivalrous, Malfoy?”
He shrugged. “Tonight’s theme. Lord knows you don’t need an escort. If anything attacks us, you’re more likely to be the one protecting me.”
It was very dark. The torches gave up tiny glows from their embers but nothing more. In the middle of the castle, there was not even moonlight for them to see by. Ginny told herself that that was why they were close. Close enough for their hands to brush every once and a while. By the dim light, she could just make out the outline of his face. He really was very tall. She came to his chin, and she was by no means short.
The light, insulting banter between them came to an end as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. The next time their fingers brushed, Malfoy caught her pinky, holding it, caressing the back of her hand. She didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. She found that her breath was racing and one of her fingers slid across his palm of its own accord. Suddenly, he seized her whole arm and dragged her into the mouth of another corridor, pushing her none too gently against the wall.
“Malfoy,” she said in warning, but nothing was happening. She could hear him breathing hard, but could see very little of him in the dark. She gasped as his lips touched hers, feather-light. She was paralysed. Soft, hot kisses, the pressure of his lean body against hers, the excitement roiling in her belly, it was more than she could bear. Just as his fingers burrowed into her hair, she pushed him away. He didn’t go very far. “Malfoy, no,” she said quite firmly. There was more regret in her voice than she would have liked to admit. Her knees were shaking.
“Weasley, I... I want to make it clear that I’m after you. I figured you hadn’t realised.... May as well steal a kiss at the same time.”
“You’re after me?” she repeated, not believing it even as she said it. “Why?”
“Because. You’re sexy and clever and wicked and bright and so beautiful I could cry. You sometimes do this cute little crinkly thing with your nose. It drives me insane.”
His teeth were bared as his lower lip brushed over her nose, then her cheek. She had to stop him before he bit her earlobe. Then she’d be in trouble.
She put her hand on his chest, pushing gently but firmly. “Malfoy....”
“What?” He was panting, steeling himself for rejection; she could tell.
“I can’t... it isn’t viable,” she told him, trying desperately to order her thoughts and feelings into words and sentences. It was difficult. She didn’t want to offend him, but didn’t want to give him hope. It wasn’t likely he’d take a scorning gracefully.
“Isn’t viable?” he repeated as if the phrase amused him. “Why not? I’m a man, you’re a woman, both of us in perfect health.”
“If you recall we’re at opposite ends of the social spectrum with vastly different beliefs, ideals and bank accounts. My brother would be very happy if you died, and I don’t know if you know, but your father once tried to kill me. And while you do have your charms, I don’t trust that this isn’t some sort of scheme designed to humiliate me if I agree to anything.”
“Why do you have to be so logical?” he pouted.
“One of us has to be. I do a crinkly thing with my nose? What kind of basis is that for any sort of action?”
“You’re not supposed to take it like that. You’re supposed to say ‘oh, Malfoy, you think my queer habits are cute? How handsome of you.’”
She couldn’t help giggling. In the meantime, he buried his face against her neck. She had to admit that it was nice being in his arms. She often felt alone, bored or depressed, but never when Malfoy was tormenting her. The thought made her smile. He must have felt this and took the opportunity to kiss her again. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the simple and immense pleasure of it, before she realised what she was doing and pushed him off her entirely.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She had been glad to think that it was the end of it, and that it had all gone so easily. There was such a capacity for disaster with Malfoy. Even though she’d been happy that he’d gotten the message, she didn’t sleep much that night, mind playing over the things he said, the stolen kisses, and the feel of his strong arms around her, his breath hot against her neck.
The next morning, it was difficult to know what to do at breakfast. On the one hand, she didn’t want him to catch her looking at him. But on the other hand, he had sounded awfully keen on her, and she wanted to see him, just to gauge how hard he was taking it. It was vain that she was so flattered, and it was stupid, very stupid that she was disappointed when he didn’t come to breakfast.
When she exited the Hall for Transfiguration, a shape peeled itself away from the wall, attaching to her. It was him, of course. She did nothing other than raise her eyebrows at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”
“Oh?” she said as if she was uninterested.
“I did call it logical at the time, but the more I think about it, the less I give a shit.”
“How sweet of you to say so,” she remarked sarcastically.
“I’m after you,” he said as if it were a threat. He was wearing a mischievous smile that put dimples in his cheeks, leaving after giving her hair a short, affectionate tug.
“What was that about?” Luna caught up with her as she continued on her way.
“He’s found a new way to pester me. I’m waiting until he gets bored.”
It was almost the truth.
She didn’t really know how long she had expected him to take to hit this period of boredom she had such faith in. But, by the aggressive way he pursued her over the following weeks, she didn’t think it was going to be soon.
He wasn’t conventional about it, in fact he was still perfectly happy to row with her, to say cruel things to her friends and generally be the gigantic git that he had always had been. He didn’t offer to carry her books, ever, which was the usual way for a boy to mark his territory at that time at Hogwarts. Although, he did once punch out an obnoxious housemate of his who bothered her even more than he did. That was sort of sweet.
He did continue to sit with her whenever he found her in the library, and would even help her with her homework if she needed it. If he saw her at all during their free time, he would follow her around like a puppy, pestering her into conversation. People may not have even noticed; their fights were as much of a fixture of the school as Harry Potter. However, the pursuit part of this new game came in a tactile form. Sometimes it wasn’t much, just a little tug on the end of her plait or the sleeve of her robe. Occasionally he’d pat her on the bottom, just to get a reaction, and often he’d grab her into a hug which she admitted to enjoying as much as she did wrestling out of them. Ron had to witness him kissing her on the cheek before he realised that something was off.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, stomping over to them.
“Nothing much. I was just going to take your sister off for an afternoon of hot, steamy sex. See you.” He began dragging her away.
“See you at dinner, Ron. Wait-" She pretended to be fooled by Malfoy’s playful ruse, making him snigger. “What would you have done if I had gone along with it the whole way?”
“I’d start at the back of your knee,” he began with a feral look in his eyes. Ginny was thankful that Ron shut him up with a drawn wand. Having him say sexy things, or even the word bad in his aristocratic accent usually did worrying things to her knees.
“Shut your filthy mouth!” Ron roared.
“Take it easy, Weasel, I was only playing around. Except about the back of her knee. And the... okay I wasn’t playing around.” He glanced at Ron and then turned back to Ginny. “What do I say now? He’s turning all purple.”
“It's all right, Ron. Malfoy’s got a pathetic new game where he pretends he fancies me and uses it as an excuse to sexually harass me.”
“That’s mean,” Malfoy said, and sounded as if he meant it. He had managed to angle his body in such a way that Ron became excluded from the conversation. Ron retreated to the sidelines. He’d learned by now not to interfere in Ginny’s affairs.
“Its true, isn’t it? Maybe not the pretending bit, maybe you think you might feel something for me, but I’m right about it being a game.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is. It’s the chase. Before you deny it again, take a look at that long line of conquests and that slutty reputation you have behind you.”
His eyes were hot with anger as he started forward as if to brush past her. He stopped at her shoulder, however, and looked behind him with deliberate slowness. “I don’t see anything,” he said, lips a whisper from her ear, tone dangerous. “All I see is you.”
For a moment, Ginny couldn’t move. She let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “That was such a good line,” she whispered to no one. The corridors were emptying. She was there all alone.
Author notes: Reviews are always appreciated. They make my day.
The End.
Saskia_181 is the author of 5 other stories.
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