Ginny Weasley wiped sweat off her face with the sleeve of her Quidditch robes, anger bubbling inside of her as she slowly spiraled to the ground on her second-hand broom.

"Look who it is," a deep voice drawled behind her. "The baby weasel."

The Gryffindor Chaser turned to discover Draco Malfoy, trademark smirk firmly in place on his admittedly handsome face, flying past her with the sun glinting triumphantly on his white-blond hair.

Ginny's blazing red hair was tangled by the wind, she was sweaty and sure she smelled like wet monkey. Malfoy on the other hand, looked cool and breezy as ever, with not a platinum blond hair out of place as he paraded around on his Firebolt. Damn him.

"How does it feel to be completely flattened?" he inquired casually. The Golden Snitch was still fluttering between his gloved fingers, she noted bitterly.

"How does it feel to be a smug bastard?" Ginny shot back.

"Manners, Weasley," Malfoy replied softly, pausing for the briefest of moments to fix her with a steely gaze. "That's no way to speak to your superiors."

Ginny stared after the Slytherin Quidditch captain's receding form for a moment – not failing to notice his athletic build and the broadness of his shoulders – before making a very rude gesture involving her forearms and a closed fist.

"I saw that!" Malfoy called back as he flew away.

"I meant you to!" she snapped. "Greasy ferret…"

To her dismay, he actually laughed.

Ginny gritted her teeth as she watched him fly off. No matter how hard she tried to rile him up, it never seemed to work; Malfoy never appeared to take her seriously. She'd always be weasel junior to him – or baby weasel, as was the case – and it was doubtful whether he even knew her name.

For reasons she didn't care to explore, this made her blood boil with rage – maybe because it was obvious he found her amusing, like a trained poodle might be.

Screw him, Ginny thought angrily.

Resolving to make sure he'd be the completely flattened one on their next match, the redheaded Gryffindor made her way to the locker room for a much needed shower.

***

"I can't believe that smug bastard won," Ginny muttered at dinner, angrily dumping beef casserole onto her plate.

The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed to be silently echoing her sentiments; there hadn't been much talk at the table that night.

"It doesn't matter if Malfoy won – we lost," Hermione declared sensibly, seemingly oblivious to the glares her comment earned her. "What's the matter with Neville?"

Neville Longbottom was sitting alone at the far end of the table, dejectedly swirling his soup with a now soggy bread stick.

"He got another owl from Trevor," Ron supplied matter-of-factly.

Neville Longbottom's pet toad, Trevor, had escaped a week before, and had since been sending his former owner long and decidedly insulting letters celebrating his newfound freedom.

"Assuming Trevor could write, I doubt he'd ever call Neville a noob," Harry offered, and everyone turned to look at him; it was the first he'd spoken all day, since Gryffindor's embarrassing defeat to Slytherin. "I'm pretty sure that git Malfoy's behind this," the Boy-Who-Lived continued, narrowing his emerald green eyes behind his glasses, "though he claims he's got nothing to do with it. It's probably his idea of an April Fool's joke."

The surrounding Gryffindors, including Ginny, turned to glare at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini could be seen sitting shoulder to shoulder. Their behavior was deemed suspicious by even Hermione, as they were clearly laughing and shooting frequent glances at Neville. That they were both exceptionally good-looking and seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves only made it all the more annoying.

And then Malfoy's silvery gray eyes met Ginny's from across the room. For an odd moment, she found herself caught in his intense gaze, unable to tear her eyes away from his. Malfoy continued to look at her levelly and then had the gall to actually wink, his arrogant smirk once again making its appearance.

Ginny felt her cheeks flush with heat and quickly turned back in her seat. "Someone's got to teach that greasy ferret a lesson," she grumbled, not wanting to analyze the weird flop her stomach had just done.

"That stupid ferret. He's the noob," Ron said darkly, stabbing at his beef casserole. (Let it be noted that the Gryffindor Keeper was more upset about the recent Quidditch loss than he was about the welfare of Neville's toad.)

"Let's just get Neville's toad back, never mind Malfoy," Hermione stated. "Custard cream?"

Ginny stared at the tray of pastries the brunette held in front of her, and her scowl turned into a mischievous grin. "We'll get Neville's toad back… and I know exactly how."

"Ginny, let it go. You're just angry at Malfoy because he beat you at Quidditch. And lifted your skirt over your head when term started," Hermione whispered sternly. "The best thing to do is ask a teacher for help. It's not worth starting a war with Malfoy over some toad."

But Ginny was shaking her head, unbeknownst to her making her copper-colored hair catch the light of the floating candles – a fact that was not lost on a certain blond Slytherin seated across the hall.

"A teacher won't help. Malfoy will just deny it," Ginny said firmly. "Look at Neville, Hermione. He's really upset about Trevor. Devastated, really. The boy needs help."

Satisfied with her own reasoning, the redhead popped a custard cream into her mouth. April Fool's Day was on Monday, and it would be one Malfoy would never forget.

***

The following Monday, Ginny Weasley made her way down to Snape's dungeon, where she knew for a fact a certain sixth year Slytherin would be tutoring. Draco Malfoy was well known for his abilities in potions, another reason for Ginny to hate him; she positively adored Snape – don't ask – and knew that, were it not for Malfoy, she would be his star pupil.

In her hands she carried an unassuming box of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Canary Creams, which she intended to persuade Malfoy to eat. She wasn't exactly sure how yet – she would figure that part out as she went.

Right.

Steeling herself, she slipped through the doors of the potions lab.

The large dungeon room was empty save for Malfoy himself, and if he was at all surprised to see her, he hid it well. The Slytherin looked up from the gillyroot he was neatly cutting and glanced at the redhead with the utmost indifference.

Losing some of her steam at his underwhelming reaction to her presence, Ginny shifted from one foot to the other, conscious that against her better judgment she was waiting to be acknowledged by him. They had never really interacted socially, and she was unsure of the rules.

"And what are you doing here?" he asked finally in a deep, silky voice.

Again confronted by his steel gray eyes, the redhead felt her Gryffindor courage waver.

"Um…I… need tutoring," she lied, realizing how ill prepared she really was for this meeting.

Malfoy raised a delicate eyebrow. "You're the best in your year in potions, Weasley. What are you really here for?"

Ginny felt herself blush deeply for some reason. "Actually...I'm here…"

Wait a minute, what was going on? Where was all the anger, the cunning, the plans? Where was this tingly feeling in her face coming from? And why had she taken extra care in combing her coppery tresses, and making sure her lips were properly glossed? Gah!

And now something even stranger happened; alone together indoors for the first time, the fact that there was an unspoken sort of energy between them became more apparent than ever. And to her surprise, Ginny seemed to be the worse for it; she discovered she was nervous.

"Well?" the Slytherin in question demanded, setting down his cutting knife and putting a hand on his slender hip. He looked somewhere between bored and half-heartedly expectant.

"We know you took Neville's toad," Ginny blurted. "Give it back…"

Lame!

Malfoy did not appear to be impressed. With his characteristic feline sort of grace he advanced the steps that separated them, and stood before her in all his arrogant splendor.

"No," he said flatly.

Dang.

"Give back the toad, Malfoy. If you do, you can have these custard creams. They're… they're lemon flavored." Ginny opened the box to reveal the pastries, and in that moment realized just how stupid her plan was.

"Right," Malfoy replied, grabbing the box out of her hands. "If you want the toad back, you're going to have to do better than that, Weasley."

"You don't like custard creams?" she inquired stiffly, thinking hard.

How to get him to eat one?

"I'm more of a chocolate man, myself," he drawled, looking at her evenly. "Tell you what, though – I'll have one if you do." And he smirked.

That annoying little smirk again!

Ginny glared at him and opened her mouth to reply, when all of a sudden Snape barged into the lab.

"Ms. Weasley," he greeted, giving her a curt nod.

"Hullo, Professor," she breathed, while Malfoy discreetly rolled his eyes. Ginny prided herself in being one of the few Gryffindors in Snape's good graces.

"Are the roots minced?" Snape demanded of his pupil.

"Yes, Professor," the blond replied, setting the box of pastries on the counter.

"Good. Mix them into the boiling cauldron." The Potions Master observed as his student did as he was told, then turned to the open box of Canary Creams. "Don't mind if I help myself to one of these custard creams, Draco. I missed lunch because of that oaf Longbottom nearly blowing himself up again. I'm about to collapse from hypoglycemia…"

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak in the same moment Ginny did. The two students exchanged a look of horror as their Potions teacher popped a Canary Cream into his mouth.

"Professor, NO!"

"Wait, don't—"

But it was too late. A moment later, Snape had turned into a large, brightly colored bird.

"Wow," Malfoy breathed.

The giant canary glared at the Slytherin, who slowly edged away.

Ginny held back a giggle with all her might; to laugh would be disastrous now.

Canary Creams lasted a full minute, she knew from self experience.

"Any minute now, Professor," she said nervously, "any…minute…now…"

But the bird's bright yellow plumage looked nowhere near molten. She and Draco both stared expectantly at the giant canary, and it glared right back.

They waited tensely for a few minutes more, avoiding each other's gaze. But the giant canary seemed to be here to stay.

"He's not changing back!" Ginny shrieked frantically.

"I can see that, Weasley!" Malfoy snapped, turning his pale eyes on her.

"Merlin's balls! That batch of Canary Creams was in my trunk for ages! Maybe it went bad or something…maybe he'll stay like that forever!"

"Calm down, Weasley," the blond commanded grimly, his eyes on Snape. "You know what we have to do."

***

An hour later Draco and Ginny left the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, their ears still ringing with Madam Pomfrey's recriminations.

The injured party, Snape, had seemed eerily calm upon regaining his human form. The sight of his molten feathers gently falling off to reveal his sullen, aquiline features would have normally been hilarious, but neither Draco nor Ginny had been inclined to laugh.

In a quiet sort of voice, the Potions Master had then begun listing the tasks they'd have to complete during their detentions.

"If you ask me, un-sliming Albanian slugs and gutting bullfrogs is getting off easy," Ginny commented soberly as they made their way down the hall.

"Good thing I didn't ask you, Weasley," the Slytherin replied, turning to glare at her. "But you did get off easy. I still can't believe you fed jinxed custard creams to Snape and I have to serve detention."

"ME? It was your fault, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped, jabbing her index finger into his chest.

Wow, his muscles are rock hard…

Still scowling, she risked looking up into his pewter-colored eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and calmly stared back.

Focus, Ginny!

"I would never jinx Professor Snape, he knows that. You were supposed to eat the Canary Creams, you git, not Snape."

They were now nose to nose – or rather, nose to chin – and from this distance Ginny could appreciate every angle of his sharply defined aristocratic features. He really was handsome, the wanker. And his eyes, his eyes were changing shades of gray, like quicksilver.

Draco was looking at her with a curious expression and, for a paranoid moment, Ginny wondered if he could hear her heart thundering in her chest.

"Well, the joke's on you, isn't it, Ginevra?" he murmured, looking her up and down.

"Whaaa?" Ginny mumbled, distracted by his use of her given name and the way his pale gray eyes were roving over her.

"What made you think that I'd eat those Canary Creams?" he inquired, taking another step towards her.

His body gently drove her back, until she felt the cool contact of the stone wall against her back.

"I, uh… Well…" she fumbled, her eyes once again drawn to his as if by magnets. "I noticed you have a sweet tooth."

Draco stared at her with obvious surprise, and then the corners of his lips curved halfway between a smile and a smirk.

"Yes," he said softly, his eyes on her plump, cherry-red lips.

Ginny gulped, desperate to think of ways to fill in the silence. The way he was looking at her, his proximity, the clean scent of fresh parchment and boy – it was making her feel strangely lightheaded. "If I wanted to jinx you...it had to be – "

"It had to be..?" Draco prodded, lifting her chin with one long, slender finger.

"It had to be something sweet," Ginny finished, feeling her legs tremble as if they were made of jelly.

"I see. Well, if you wanted to give me something sweet," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, "why didn't you try…this?"

Ginny's eyelids fluttered closed just before Draco's soft, warm lips brushed against hers. She found herself yielding to his full lips as a current of electricity seemed to make its way through her body. Their tongues met and tangled, and the salty sweet taste of him invaded her senses. Soon her fingers were slipping through the silky threads of his pale hair, then tracing the firm line of his jaw and sculpted cheeks. She could feel Draco's hands circle her waist as he drew her closer and deepened the kiss, taking her breath away.

They soon found an unoccupied broom closet, and it was hours before they emerged.

"You're right," Ginny said shakily, once she'd regained the power to speak. "I should have definitely tried that first."

Draco smiled and brushed her fingers with his lips.

They continued to walk down the hall hand in hand, and for once, Ginny didn't find his little smirk annoying.

***