MAJOR DISCLAIMER (will not be posted in other chapters, but applies to entire story): Harry Potter and the characters used in my story are the properties of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. By using these characters, I am NOT claiming them as my own. I also do not claim to own the parts of Rowling's series that I will refer to occasionally. However, the plot and writing are mine.
they tell you where you need to go
tell you when you'll need to leave
tell you what you need to know
tell you who you need to be
but everything inside you knows
there’s more than what you've heard
there’s so much more than empty conversations
filled with empty words
- Switchfoot
More than Meets the Eye
Matthew Edwards leaned against the building that was formally known as the King’s Cross Station, enjoying a cigarette in peace. With a sanguine expression, he watched people parking their cars and entering the station. Lovers kissed their goodbyes, parents embraced their children, and friends hugged each other amiably. In a momentary lull in the traffic of people entering the station, Matthew noticed a very odd-looking blue car. It was zipping back and forth between the rows of cars, as though the owner was fervently searching for a parking spot. As Matthew exhaled a steady stream of smoke, he saw the car barely squeeze into a small spot between a van and a very sturdy concrete barrier. All four of the car doors opened the minute the vehicle had pulled to a stop. Out tumbled four redheads of varying ages and a black-haired boy. All of them seemed to be in a dreadful rush, pulling out a multitude of trunks. Matthew frowned in confusion; the car was awfully small to fit three black trunks, a cage with a bird – no, it was an owl – and various sundry packages. Hang on, who used trunks for their luggage these days, anyways? Matthew was only pulled out of his reverie when his cigarette burned itself to ash in his fingertips. Checking his watch, he shook his head as though clearing it, and re-entered the station.
As usual, the Weasleys were running late for the Hogwarts Express. Arthur and Molly Weasley rushed across the street, ahead of Ginny and Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and secured trolley for each of the children. Although Harry and Ron were in their sixth year, and Ginny was in her fifth, Mrs. Weasley still regarded the three of them as a mother hen watches her little chicks.
“Here you go dears. Hurry up now, or you’ll be late for the train!” Molly urged.
Ginny sighed as she pulled and tugged on her trunk until it sat properly upon the trolley. By the time she had thrown on her other parcels, Ron and Harry were racing towards the train platforms, pushing their trolleys and their tickets in hand. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were behind them, jogging in an effort to keep up. Once again, they had forgotten about Ginny in their rush. She grabbed hold of the trolley’s handlebar and raced in the same direction, towards platform nine.
After Ginny had rushed through the platform’s barrier, she was kissed and hugged fiercely by her parents, who obviously hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t with them. Harry and Ron lugged her trunk towards the train, barely avoiding a collision with an Egyptian wizard with a fez and multi-colored robes, who was shaking his fist furiously at someone else in the crowd.
“Now be good dear –“ Mrs. Weasley began, as she had ever since Ginny was a first-year.
“Yes, Mum.” Ginny said, automatically.
“And keep an eye out for Ron –“
“Yes, Mum.” Ginny’s impatience was growing.
“And have a good year!” Arthur Weasley interrupted, and hugged his daughter. “Now go, before you miss the train!”
With another hug from her mother and a fleeting smile at both of her parents, Ginny boarded the train and sought a compartment. To her right, she could see Harry, Ron and their best friend Hermione Granger in the hallway, laughing and discussing their summers excitedly. Ginny immediately turned to the left and slipped away quickly from the trio, unnoticed as usual.
She looked into the windowed door of each compartment that she passed, hoping to find one that was empty. Of course, she had boarded the train too late, so she knew she would have to settle for one that was occupied by a couple of people. She also did not worry about her trunk, knowing that Harry and Ron had probably stored it with theirs. She knew that they would expect her to join them in their compartment, so that she could sit and stare out of the window while they laughed at their own private jokes and generally enjoyed themselves. Ginny stopped in her tracks, half-horrified at the resentment bubbling through her, and half-shrugging in disdain for her brother and his friends.
Miraculously, she had stopped in front of a compartment that was empty. No, Ginny saw with disappointment that someone had left their cloak in there, and a trunk was already stored within. She sighed, and shrugged again as she entered the compartment.
By the time Ginny took a seat and stared out of the window, the train had begun moving. She felt the familiar jerk as the train started, and then the smooth movement of the pistons beneath her as the Hogwarts Express left the train station. As she watched the scenery rush by, Ginny’s thoughts returned to her summer.
As usual, Fred and George Weasley had used her and Ron as guinea pigs for their newest inventions in their Diagon Alley shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Ginny honestly did not know how the twins had managed to open the shop in Diagon Alley, but she did not care. She looked down at her robes and smiled absently. The twins had made enough money in the short time that their store was open that they had bought Ginny a new cloak and one new robe. She shook her head slightly with disbelief, still admiring her cloak. After years of using hand-me-downs, she finally owned clothes that were rightfully hers.
With a slight smirk, Ginny was about to look out of the window again when her eyes caught the cloak that was draped over the back of the opposite seat. Curiosity got the best of her, and she got up to lift the cloak from the seat, searching for a nametag of some sort.
Ginny was so intent on what she was doing that she did not hear the door of the compartment softly slide open, and close again. Nor did she hear the stealthy footsteps behind her. Instead, Ginny gave up on her search and was just about to return the cloak to its original position, when she nearly had a heart attack.
Someone was so close behind her that she could feel their breath on the left side of her neck. They must have been frighteningly close to her if she could feel the heat of their breath through her long, thick red hair. But the real cause of the near coronary was the words that this mysterious person uttered.
“What’s this? A Weasley, discontent with being nobly poor, has now turned to thievery?” The words were bemused but menacing, and so quiet that they could have been mistaken as soothing and comforting. It was this strange paradox of emotions conveyed by these words that startled Ginny and made her jump. Her shoulders tensed and shuddered reflexively, while the heels of her shoes rose up an inch or so for a split second.
Ginny half-turned her body, and turned her face abruptly to her left shoulder. Standing behind her was a boy who seemed her age or a year older. He had dark brown hair like Harry’s, but his eyes were a light, startling blue. Those eyes were framed by unusually long eye lashes. His chin was rounded, but his face was generally lean, with high cheekbones. As Ginny’s eyes traveled down, she could see that he was dressed in silver and green, the colors of a Slytherin.
He was smiling at her, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched her expression. “But – I wasn’t sure – so I checked – name…” Ginny stuttered, wide-eyed.
He stepped back from her, and shrugged. “If you were so interested, you could have asked. My name is Blaise Zabini.” He extended his hand towards her and asked, “So, may I have my cloak back?” His grin was wider now, but this time the smile seemed to reach his eyes. Ginny’s mouth opened in astonishment. Was he actually asking her for his cloak?
Blaise chuckled a little, which forced Ginny to shut her mouth with a snap. She extended the cloak to him mutely. “Thanks,” he said sincerely, and moved towards his seat. Ginny mutely moved back towards her seat and sat down, confused and shocked beyond belief. Blaise was seated directly in front of her.
They sat staring at each other for a minute or so, until Blaise spoke again. “You know, I may be in Slytherin, but I don’t bite.” He was watching her bemusedly.
Ginny flushed, and turned her gaze to the floor as she muttered, “I never thought you’d bite me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Blaise rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, as though trying to catch her face. “I’m well aware of the reputation we have.”
His sudden closeness to her brought Ginny’s head up with a start. Her brown eyes were speculative, but they soften when she saw the expression on his face. His blue eyes were still amused, but there was an earnestness there that she had only seen on her brothers’ faces. She raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Well, if you won’t bite me, then why are you talking to me?”
Blaise sat up again, and counted on his fingers, “Well, let’s see. We’re in a train compartment that’s only occupied by… oh, the two of us.” He continued counting, “Plus, I’m a teenage male, and you’re a beautiful teenage female. Oh yeah, it’s also a long trip to Hogwarts and I don’t plan on sleeping when I get to see your lovely face.” He crossed his arms against his chest, smirking at her.
As Blaise stated these reasons, an unfamiliar warmth had threaded its way inside Ginny’s chest and throughout her limbs. She could not deny that he was handsome, and the minute she thought about it she began to blush a deeper shade of red. She turned her face towards the window to compose herself, then turned to him and stated “Thank you for the compliment, but I highly doubt that I’m so beautiful. Anyway, you know that I’m a Weasley.” She paused and tilted her head to the side, as though considering him. “Why would you want to be seen with trash like me?” she asked, harshly.
“Because…” Blaise began, rolling his eyes as though she had asked a stupid question. But he was not allowed to finish that sentence. Someone, who was obviously in a rush, had opened their compartment door. This blur of blonde hair and black robes entered the compartment, but stuck their head out of the doorway; they whipped their head to the left and right to check up and down the deserted corridor, and then pulled back and slid the door shut. This mysterious blonde turned around and leaned against it with closed eyes, releasing a sigh of relief. Ginny immediately recognized his pointy chin, pale skin, and tall, lean figure as those belonging to Draco Malfoy.
Draco opened his eyes, and looked to his left. He stood up straight and said with pleasure, “Zabini! Thank Merlin I found you! I never thought I’d escape from that cow…” Draco’s eyes turned towards his right, and rested on Ginny. “Weasley?” he asked with surprise.
Draco’s surprise quickly turned to a sneer, as he told her, “I suggest you run back to little Potty. We men have some things –“
Blaise cut him off. “Oh, where are my manners? Ms. Weasley, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Draco Malfoy,” Blaise gestured towards Draco while watching Ginny. Blaise turned towards Draco and said, “Draco, let me introduce you to Ms… err, sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name,” Blaise said innocently, once more turning towards Ginny.
Ginny sighed, but answered, “It’s Ginevra, but everyone just calls me Ginny.”
That statement caught both boys’ attentions, albeit for different reasons. Draco, who was now sitting next to Blaise, snorted and started to laugh derisively. Blaise, on the other hand, was thoughtfully gazing at Ginny with his bright blue eyes, his right hand lightly scratching his dark head. Blaise tilted his head head, as though sizing Ginny up, and said, “You know, that Ginny thing is ridiculous. You’re much more of a Ginevra.”
Draco stopped laughing suddenly, and stared at Blaise incredulously. Ginny raised an eyebrow in surprise, and was speechless; the only answer that she could come up with was, “Oh.”
Draco elbowed Blaise in the ribs and hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you, Zabini?”
“What?” Blaise asked defensively, turning to his right to look at Draco. “She really looks like a Ginevra to me. I mean, look at her!”
Draco gritted his teeth, and still looking at Blaise, replied, “Since when did you give a shit about a Weasley?”
“Honestly, Draco, your language! And to answer your question, I’ve cared about her since we became friends,” Blaise answered innocently. He turned to Ginny and asked, “Isn’t that right, Ginevra? Aren’t we friends?”
Ginny, still recovering from shock, only nodded her head mutely.
Draco stood up, his hands in fists at his sides, and glared down at Blaise. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted. Glancing at Ginny, he turned back to Blaise and lowered his voice to a hiss, “What happens when they find out?”
Blaise snorted, “Really, Draco, I keep telling you. My parents and the rest of Slytherin can kiss You-Know-Who’s ass anytime they want. That doesn’t mean that I have to. And anyway, what are you so worried about?” Blaise was grinning up at Draco mischievously. “Wouldn’t this be a great way to get rid of ‘that cow’?”
Draco stood still, his silver eyes now wide with disbelief. Gingerly, he sat down again, still glaring at Blaise. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on Draco, and his turned his attention to Ginny with a smirk. “Well, then in that case…” Draco nodded at Ginny, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ginevra.”
Note: A HUGE shout-out to dracoslytheringal from fanfiction.net. She was the one who a) encouraged me to write a fanfic of my own, and b) beta-ed this chapter. She’s also the author of a wonderful fanfic of her own, Fallen which is also D/G. I’m beta-ing that one, so if you’re reading this, check hers out too!
tell you when you'll need to leave
tell you what you need to know
tell you who you need to be
but everything inside you knows
there’s more than what you've heard
there’s so much more than empty conversations
filled with empty words
- Switchfoot
More than Meets the Eye
Matthew Edwards leaned against the building that was formally known as the King’s Cross Station, enjoying a cigarette in peace. With a sanguine expression, he watched people parking their cars and entering the station. Lovers kissed their goodbyes, parents embraced their children, and friends hugged each other amiably. In a momentary lull in the traffic of people entering the station, Matthew noticed a very odd-looking blue car. It was zipping back and forth between the rows of cars, as though the owner was fervently searching for a parking spot. As Matthew exhaled a steady stream of smoke, he saw the car barely squeeze into a small spot between a van and a very sturdy concrete barrier. All four of the car doors opened the minute the vehicle had pulled to a stop. Out tumbled four redheads of varying ages and a black-haired boy. All of them seemed to be in a dreadful rush, pulling out a multitude of trunks. Matthew frowned in confusion; the car was awfully small to fit three black trunks, a cage with a bird – no, it was an owl – and various sundry packages. Hang on, who used trunks for their luggage these days, anyways? Matthew was only pulled out of his reverie when his cigarette burned itself to ash in his fingertips. Checking his watch, he shook his head as though clearing it, and re-entered the station.
As usual, the Weasleys were running late for the Hogwarts Express. Arthur and Molly Weasley rushed across the street, ahead of Ginny and Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and secured trolley for each of the children. Although Harry and Ron were in their sixth year, and Ginny was in her fifth, Mrs. Weasley still regarded the three of them as a mother hen watches her little chicks.
“Here you go dears. Hurry up now, or you’ll be late for the train!” Molly urged.
Ginny sighed as she pulled and tugged on her trunk until it sat properly upon the trolley. By the time she had thrown on her other parcels, Ron and Harry were racing towards the train platforms, pushing their trolleys and their tickets in hand. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were behind them, jogging in an effort to keep up. Once again, they had forgotten about Ginny in their rush. She grabbed hold of the trolley’s handlebar and raced in the same direction, towards platform nine.
After Ginny had rushed through the platform’s barrier, she was kissed and hugged fiercely by her parents, who obviously hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t with them. Harry and Ron lugged her trunk towards the train, barely avoiding a collision with an Egyptian wizard with a fez and multi-colored robes, who was shaking his fist furiously at someone else in the crowd.
“Now be good dear –“ Mrs. Weasley began, as she had ever since Ginny was a first-year.
“Yes, Mum.” Ginny said, automatically.
“And keep an eye out for Ron –“
“Yes, Mum.” Ginny’s impatience was growing.
“And have a good year!” Arthur Weasley interrupted, and hugged his daughter. “Now go, before you miss the train!”
With another hug from her mother and a fleeting smile at both of her parents, Ginny boarded the train and sought a compartment. To her right, she could see Harry, Ron and their best friend Hermione Granger in the hallway, laughing and discussing their summers excitedly. Ginny immediately turned to the left and slipped away quickly from the trio, unnoticed as usual.
She looked into the windowed door of each compartment that she passed, hoping to find one that was empty. Of course, she had boarded the train too late, so she knew she would have to settle for one that was occupied by a couple of people. She also did not worry about her trunk, knowing that Harry and Ron had probably stored it with theirs. She knew that they would expect her to join them in their compartment, so that she could sit and stare out of the window while they laughed at their own private jokes and generally enjoyed themselves. Ginny stopped in her tracks, half-horrified at the resentment bubbling through her, and half-shrugging in disdain for her brother and his friends.
Miraculously, she had stopped in front of a compartment that was empty. No, Ginny saw with disappointment that someone had left their cloak in there, and a trunk was already stored within. She sighed, and shrugged again as she entered the compartment.
By the time Ginny took a seat and stared out of the window, the train had begun moving. She felt the familiar jerk as the train started, and then the smooth movement of the pistons beneath her as the Hogwarts Express left the train station. As she watched the scenery rush by, Ginny’s thoughts returned to her summer.
As usual, Fred and George Weasley had used her and Ron as guinea pigs for their newest inventions in their Diagon Alley shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Ginny honestly did not know how the twins had managed to open the shop in Diagon Alley, but she did not care. She looked down at her robes and smiled absently. The twins had made enough money in the short time that their store was open that they had bought Ginny a new cloak and one new robe. She shook her head slightly with disbelief, still admiring her cloak. After years of using hand-me-downs, she finally owned clothes that were rightfully hers.
With a slight smirk, Ginny was about to look out of the window again when her eyes caught the cloak that was draped over the back of the opposite seat. Curiosity got the best of her, and she got up to lift the cloak from the seat, searching for a nametag of some sort.
Ginny was so intent on what she was doing that she did not hear the door of the compartment softly slide open, and close again. Nor did she hear the stealthy footsteps behind her. Instead, Ginny gave up on her search and was just about to return the cloak to its original position, when she nearly had a heart attack.
Someone was so close behind her that she could feel their breath on the left side of her neck. They must have been frighteningly close to her if she could feel the heat of their breath through her long, thick red hair. But the real cause of the near coronary was the words that this mysterious person uttered.
“What’s this? A Weasley, discontent with being nobly poor, has now turned to thievery?” The words were bemused but menacing, and so quiet that they could have been mistaken as soothing and comforting. It was this strange paradox of emotions conveyed by these words that startled Ginny and made her jump. Her shoulders tensed and shuddered reflexively, while the heels of her shoes rose up an inch or so for a split second.
Ginny half-turned her body, and turned her face abruptly to her left shoulder. Standing behind her was a boy who seemed her age or a year older. He had dark brown hair like Harry’s, but his eyes were a light, startling blue. Those eyes were framed by unusually long eye lashes. His chin was rounded, but his face was generally lean, with high cheekbones. As Ginny’s eyes traveled down, she could see that he was dressed in silver and green, the colors of a Slytherin.
He was smiling at her, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched her expression. “But – I wasn’t sure – so I checked – name…” Ginny stuttered, wide-eyed.
He stepped back from her, and shrugged. “If you were so interested, you could have asked. My name is Blaise Zabini.” He extended his hand towards her and asked, “So, may I have my cloak back?” His grin was wider now, but this time the smile seemed to reach his eyes. Ginny’s mouth opened in astonishment. Was he actually asking her for his cloak?
Blaise chuckled a little, which forced Ginny to shut her mouth with a snap. She extended the cloak to him mutely. “Thanks,” he said sincerely, and moved towards his seat. Ginny mutely moved back towards her seat and sat down, confused and shocked beyond belief. Blaise was seated directly in front of her.
They sat staring at each other for a minute or so, until Blaise spoke again. “You know, I may be in Slytherin, but I don’t bite.” He was watching her bemusedly.
Ginny flushed, and turned her gaze to the floor as she muttered, “I never thought you’d bite me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Blaise rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, as though trying to catch her face. “I’m well aware of the reputation we have.”
His sudden closeness to her brought Ginny’s head up with a start. Her brown eyes were speculative, but they soften when she saw the expression on his face. His blue eyes were still amused, but there was an earnestness there that she had only seen on her brothers’ faces. She raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Well, if you won’t bite me, then why are you talking to me?”
Blaise sat up again, and counted on his fingers, “Well, let’s see. We’re in a train compartment that’s only occupied by… oh, the two of us.” He continued counting, “Plus, I’m a teenage male, and you’re a beautiful teenage female. Oh yeah, it’s also a long trip to Hogwarts and I don’t plan on sleeping when I get to see your lovely face.” He crossed his arms against his chest, smirking at her.
As Blaise stated these reasons, an unfamiliar warmth had threaded its way inside Ginny’s chest and throughout her limbs. She could not deny that he was handsome, and the minute she thought about it she began to blush a deeper shade of red. She turned her face towards the window to compose herself, then turned to him and stated “Thank you for the compliment, but I highly doubt that I’m so beautiful. Anyway, you know that I’m a Weasley.” She paused and tilted her head to the side, as though considering him. “Why would you want to be seen with trash like me?” she asked, harshly.
“Because…” Blaise began, rolling his eyes as though she had asked a stupid question. But he was not allowed to finish that sentence. Someone, who was obviously in a rush, had opened their compartment door. This blur of blonde hair and black robes entered the compartment, but stuck their head out of the doorway; they whipped their head to the left and right to check up and down the deserted corridor, and then pulled back and slid the door shut. This mysterious blonde turned around and leaned against it with closed eyes, releasing a sigh of relief. Ginny immediately recognized his pointy chin, pale skin, and tall, lean figure as those belonging to Draco Malfoy.
Draco opened his eyes, and looked to his left. He stood up straight and said with pleasure, “Zabini! Thank Merlin I found you! I never thought I’d escape from that cow…” Draco’s eyes turned towards his right, and rested on Ginny. “Weasley?” he asked with surprise.
Draco’s surprise quickly turned to a sneer, as he told her, “I suggest you run back to little Potty. We men have some things –“
Blaise cut him off. “Oh, where are my manners? Ms. Weasley, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Draco Malfoy,” Blaise gestured towards Draco while watching Ginny. Blaise turned towards Draco and said, “Draco, let me introduce you to Ms… err, sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name,” Blaise said innocently, once more turning towards Ginny.
Ginny sighed, but answered, “It’s Ginevra, but everyone just calls me Ginny.”
That statement caught both boys’ attentions, albeit for different reasons. Draco, who was now sitting next to Blaise, snorted and started to laugh derisively. Blaise, on the other hand, was thoughtfully gazing at Ginny with his bright blue eyes, his right hand lightly scratching his dark head. Blaise tilted his head head, as though sizing Ginny up, and said, “You know, that Ginny thing is ridiculous. You’re much more of a Ginevra.”
Draco stopped laughing suddenly, and stared at Blaise incredulously. Ginny raised an eyebrow in surprise, and was speechless; the only answer that she could come up with was, “Oh.”
Draco elbowed Blaise in the ribs and hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you, Zabini?”
“What?” Blaise asked defensively, turning to his right to look at Draco. “She really looks like a Ginevra to me. I mean, look at her!”
Draco gritted his teeth, and still looking at Blaise, replied, “Since when did you give a shit about a Weasley?”
“Honestly, Draco, your language! And to answer your question, I’ve cared about her since we became friends,” Blaise answered innocently. He turned to Ginny and asked, “Isn’t that right, Ginevra? Aren’t we friends?”
Ginny, still recovering from shock, only nodded her head mutely.
Draco stood up, his hands in fists at his sides, and glared down at Blaise. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted. Glancing at Ginny, he turned back to Blaise and lowered his voice to a hiss, “What happens when they find out?”
Blaise snorted, “Really, Draco, I keep telling you. My parents and the rest of Slytherin can kiss You-Know-Who’s ass anytime they want. That doesn’t mean that I have to. And anyway, what are you so worried about?” Blaise was grinning up at Draco mischievously. “Wouldn’t this be a great way to get rid of ‘that cow’?”
Draco stood still, his silver eyes now wide with disbelief. Gingerly, he sat down again, still glaring at Blaise. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on Draco, and his turned his attention to Ginny with a smirk. “Well, then in that case…” Draco nodded at Ginny, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ginevra.”
Note: A HUGE shout-out to dracoslytheringal from fanfiction.net. She was the one who a) encouraged me to write a fanfic of my own, and b) beta-ed this chapter. She’s also the author of a wonderful fanfic of her own, Fallen which is also D/G. I’m beta-ing that one, so if you’re reading this, check hers out too!
Leave a Review