by Jae
The characters, settings, and other sundry aspects of Harry Potter the Series do not belong to me nor am I using said objects for anything beyond personal amusement.
Chapter Two
Draco picked up a butter pie from the breakfast table. He had started eating them when he realised that Ginny was obsessed with them. Draco took his research seriously. And they were quite tasty. He also suspected it unnerved Ginny to have anything in common with him, and he enjoyed that fact even more. He nibbled while he scanned the Great Hall. He liked getting there early. Especially for breakfast. People were sluggish and slow, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They said and did things they would not normally do. They were vulnerable. And all for his viewing pleasure. The Slytherin table was nearly empty. Slytherins were not generally morning people. Draco missed the extra hour of sleep, true, but breakfast was too good an opportunity to pass up. Draco sniggered as Harry and Ron bumped into each other. The two boys rubbed their foreheads and grunted. Yes, far too good an opportunity to pass up. Hermione walked behind them, pausing only to roll her eyes at their backs. Ginny said nothing, but her dimple popped up for a brief moment.
Draco sighed as he continued nibbling on the cold part of his butter pie. Who was he kidding? It was absolutely insane to be sitting in the Great Hall at this hour. Of course he had perfectly good motives for being there. But they were confused and complicated, verging on inexplicable. Draco had a revelation this summer. He was surprised it hadn’t occurred to him earlier. Voldemort was up to no good. Draco smirked. No, he was not turning coat. Oh, far from it. Voldemort was up to no good for Draco Malfoy. Voldemort was a fruitcake, no doubt about that. Some of the things Father had been forced to do, well, they just made no sense. And more importantly, if he were in Voldemort’s place, why would he share? Especially with scheming sycophants like his father? Draco snorted. He would take no part in the machinations of a madman. It would only end in death.
But that did not mean Draco had abandoned his vendetta against Harry Potter. Oh no. If anything, it had strengthened his resolve to put that pathetic half blood, the weasel and the frizzy haired, swotty Mudblood in their place. Beneath Draco Malfoy. So he watched Harry, Ron and Hermione whenever he could for weakness. In Potions class. During meals. Including breakfast. He couldn’t lose that precious hour of observation time. Draco bit his lip as he watched Neville spill pumpkin juice on Harry. It didn’t hurt that the Gryffindors were utter buffoons in the morning. Ginny nibbled on a butter pie while she watched Ron and Hermione squabble. Draco rolled his eyes. Those two really needed to be locked in a bloody room together. Ginny turned her gaze to Draco and she jumped in her seat. He smiled slightly, raising his butter pie in salute to her. She blanched slightly and turned empathically to talk with Colin Creevey. The hot part of the butter pie oozed. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, letting the hot part seep into the cold part.
After all, it was at breakfast that he had finally found Ginny Weasley. Oh, he had always known she was there. He had made a point of memorising the name of all the students at Hogwarts. Not because he cared about them. Information was power, and power was everything. He made a special point of keeping tabs on his enemies. The feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys was one of long standing. And who could forget the mysterious circumstances surrounding Ginny Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets? How Father had snarled about the incident, muttering about the genius of slipping little Ginny Weasley the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle, only to be foiled by that bloody Harry Potter. But Father had kept ickle Draco in the dark. Draco narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t forgiven Father. He was not some snot-nosed brat that couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Draco still wasn’t sure what had happened with the diary, but he remembered.
The morning of revelation had been early in the school year, the first or second week they had come back to Hogwarts. Potter had been talking to Ginny and she was staring at him with those moony, adoring eyes, occasionally smiling shyly, her dimple peeping in and out. And Potter was in his usual fine form. Draco rolled his eyes. The git couldn’t even see how she was practically drooling over him. At that moment, Ginny had turned her head and caught him watching. Her eyes grew wide and he remembered that day in Diagon Alley when she had been not quite a first year, still wet behind her ears and it clicked. He could use her. Like Father had. Yes, Ginny Weasley was perfect for so many reasons. For her Weasley name. For her connection with Father. For her meek muteness. For her not so furtive, moon-eyed staring at Harry Potter. Yes, steal Ginny Weasley out from under Potter’s nose. He would break her little heart. He would show Potter and his pathetic friends who ruled this school. As the months passed, he merely confirmed his original hunch. Ginny Weasley was the weak link.
He had started following her then. She did have some friends, giggly, faceless things. But she also savoured her time alone, treading out on the fields or into empty classrooms. These spaces were too open and too public for him to contact her initially. He knew the beginning of his seduction would be difficult, to say the least, and the last thing he needed was to be slapped by Ginny Weasley in front of all of Hogwarts. Humiliation was not part of the plan. When she had started hanging about in that abandoned study cupboard, he thanked Merlin for his good luck. It was a well known fact that seventh years used those cupboards for amourous liaisons and some Slytherins had no qualms about letting their cupboards out to the less fortunate younger students. Not the most romantic of settings, but cramped quarters did promote a certain level of intimacy. All in all, it was a suitable place to make his first contact. And timing was oh so important. Best to contact her when she was most vulnerable. After Potter had been insensitive, perhaps. And that was not so difficult, for Potter was always thick.
So when she fled the Great Hall in tears, Harry and Ron bewildered, Hermione scolding, Draco knew it was his cue to begin pursuit. He waited for her to flee, casually finishing off his butter pie. He’d follow her into the dusty cupboard, a biting greeting followed by sharp, sweet whispers and promises, his cheek brushing against her fiery hair, his lips hovering above her face. Just an impression, leaving her susceptible for later meetings, a small step in his carefully plotted out seduction. However, the first contact hadn’t turned out the way he had expected it to. Who knew that Ginny Weasley was such a firecracker? He had expected her to be drenched with tears, a forgotten rag doll that would bend easily to his will. His observations gave no indication that she was anything but a milquetoast girl. But she was far from milquetoast.
"A little hint, Weasley. Princesses should hide in towers, not dusty cubbyholes, if they wanted to be saved by their heroes. I suspect Potter is far-sighted," Draco had drawled. He had thought it was rather witty.
Instead of gawking at him with shocked eyes, she had spun around and spat him. "I am sick of being ignored, by everyone in this bloody school, and most of all Harry bloody Potter. Why must I stand in the shadows? I am sick of mooning, sick, sick I tell you!"
Draco blinked. She actually wasn’t half bad looking. It was her mute, pale nothingness that dulled her. Now, her nose was red from weeping, but her brown eyes were huge and bright with anger, her red hair flying about her flushed face. The only thing missing was the dimple. Draco suspected if Pansy had a dimple he really could tolerate her presence. Well, no, he wouldn’t, but he could at least tolerate looking at her vapid face. He smirked. At least Weasley had the honesty to admit that she was a lovesick calf. Unlike the other squealing girls that trailed Potter in the hallways. Draco took a step forward to get a better look at her freckles. Fascinating how they seemed to be everywhere. Her nose, her cheeks, the backs of her hands, the hollow spot where her neck met her collarbone. Ginny waved her arms about, her words growing more incensed and passionate, and Harry was mentioned all the more frequently. It was really quite amusing to watch her rant, but he wondered what it would do to his little scheme. He sighed inwardly, giving himself a moment to recalibrate his plan.
And that was when he saw the hand coming towards his face. The bird had gone completely batty. She was slapping him because she was angry with bloody Potter? This was becoming absolutely ludicrous. Yet another wild card slipped into his hand. He started to turn, disgusted at all those lost hours of sleep, but then Ginny’s hand reached around his neck, pulling him in for an impromptu snogging session. If you could call Weasley’s mouth mashed upon his chin to be a kiss, that is. Draco bit his lip. Even now the memory of that first mashing still amused him. He snuck yet another glance at Ginny, who was still ignoring him while talking with Colin.
At that point, she had pulled away, her eyes now wide with shock. Draco had instinctively wrapped his arms around her, smirking happily at the confused Ginny. Ginny turned her face to look at the ground, but she did not struggle against his grip. Definitely a wild card. But one he could use to his advantage. He would alter his plans accordingly. He cupped his hand against her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.
"Silly Weasley, a snog requires the lips to meet. Like this." Draco leaned forward, just letting his lips brush against hers. He waited for her to struggle, to flee. He did not want to force anything upon her. Better to have her crawl to him. Besides, he had a reputation to maintain here. Who ever heard of a Malfoy having to force his attentions upon a woman? Ginny froze for a moment before she leaned into the kiss; her lips parted slightly as though she were focusing all her concentration on this moment, pulling him towards her urgently. Draco laughed against her, letting his teeth graze her lips. It was too easy, too easy. Wild rebellious child. She had met his teeth, his tongue, his lips, with an eagerness that surprised him. His practice with Pansy hadn’t been in vain. Draco kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and her jaw, trailing his way down Ginny’s throat. Ginny reached for his perfect blonde hair, mussing it, threading it between her fingers. At that moment, she opened her eyes, looking at the blonde head resting against her chest. She had then proceeded to slap him, calling him all sorts of tame, but not so nice names, conveniently forgetting that she had intiated all of this. Draco merely crossed his arms, looking down his nose at her, admiring the redness left by his kisses. Unable to get a response out of him, Ginny left, promising bloody murder if he did not keep his slimy lips shut.
And now, the fun began. He had spent the last few days smirking at her. Ron had nagged her at both luncheon and supper that day in particular. Thick oaf probably asking her if she had drunken some off pumpkin juice, else why would she be covered in hives? Ginny had carefully avoided looking at the Slytherin table and for the next few days, she was always with someone, never alone. In the meanwhile, Draco had toyed with the idea of recruiting Ginny as a partner in his mission to put Harry Potter in his place. She was not to be trusted, of course. Merely an instrument that furthered his cause. There was also something deliciously wrong about having Weasley help him break her heart. Ginny Weasley was perfect: head over heels puppy love mixed with that fiery temper and just a hint of resentment. And she would eat up his plan. Star cross’d lovers were always a compelling conflict. Shakespeare was the most cunning of writers and had only gone over to the Muggle court for the money. That, and he had so deeply offended the faerie court with his satirical piece; he had no choice, the poor fool. Perhaps Draco was letting his sense of humour decide too much, but he could not resist. And he had not forgotten who had kissed whom first.
So here he was again, sitting at breakfast, another hour working on his lovely scheme. Draco discreetly scribbled a note and gave it to his owl under the table. The owl flew over to Ginny, dropping the parchment in her lap. No identifying seal, no name, but who else could it be? She unfurled it quickly.
Have you considered my offer? Meet me in the cupboard after supper.
Ginny crumpled the note and tossed it into her rucksack. Draco finished his butter pie with relish. Fun indeed. But in the meanwhile, class.
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Draco began preparation of the meeting in the cupboard in his usual meticulous manner. He dressed accordingly for the meeting in his finest school attire; his black brocade robe, the intricate interlocking off-black wild birds and animals, flowers and vines visible to the discerning eye, well buffed black boots, sharply creased black trousers, a crisp cotton shirt with the silver snake cufflinks, and his House tie knotted just so. Even his hair was tousled perfectly. A grace note to his pristine perfection. And a lucky find in Father’s old spellbooks. The mirror as well as the trail of sighs from the Slytherin common room to the Great Hall told Draco that he was more than adequately dressed to kill. He ate supper quietly and quickly, slipping out well before everyone else, wanting to avoid the masses. He cast his glance at the Gryffindor table. Well, oh well, little Weasley had managed to sneak out before him. He didn’t bother running. He had wanted to get there first, to establish his own space, but the fact that she had rushed on ahead, that meant she was...threatened? Eager? Willing? He played out dozens of scenarios in his head, unable to choose one.
In the library, there was still no sign of Weasley. He strode into the advanced arthimancy section, setting his face into its usual confident sneer. He pressed his hand against the wall and steeled himself.
Ginny sat on the desk, her feet resting on the chair. Her robe had been tossed aside carelessly. Her sleeves were rolled up, her House tie draped around her neck, and her hair was up in a messy bun, held together precariously by an ink smudged quill. Was she nervous or did she just not give a rat’s arse? And he had thought she was transparent. Ginny’s eyes narrowed as Draco walked in.
"You have a lot of bloody nerve sending me an owl in front of my friends, Malfoy," Ginny said while glaring darkly at him.
Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you’re here, aren’t you, Weasley?" Draco walked over to the desk, until he was standing next to her, allowing his mouth to hover just above her ear. "In fact, I don’t think I saw you at supper at all. Shouldn’t be skipping meals, you know. You’ll lose that girlish figure you have, all those lovely curves that you recently acquired. Potter needs all the help he can get to realise what you are," Draco taunted, allowing his gaze to wander down slowly from the top of her head to the soles of her scuffed oxfords.
Ginny crossed her arms across her chest and turned to scowl fiercely at him, blushing just as fiercely in spite of herself. "Will you stop going on and on about Harry? You’re so fixated on him, I’d think you were the one in love with him, not me!"
Draco smirked. "He gets blind worship and adoration for being lucky! Practically a Muggle for 10 years, his mother a Mudblood and everyone loves him. He’s going to save the bloody world, you know. Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived. While I, Draco Malfoy, am nothing, a pathetic straw man. I stand in the shadows, when I should be in the light."
Ginny blinked for a moment and bit her lip in an attempt to hold back the chortling. And that blasted dimple.
"You expect me to believe that you want to stand in the light, Draco Malfoy? Your father practically lives in the pocket of He Who Must Not Be Named. And you’re not far behind, Malfoy. Stop spewing your lies," Ginny said in between giggles.
"Weasley, kindly refrain from comparing that fawning sycophant with me. I am my own man, I see with my own eyes. Voldemort is a madman. In my plans for world domination, dying does not rank as one of them," Draco said matter-of-factly.
Ginny shivered at the mention of Voldemort’s name. Draco unhooked his robe, draping the heavy material across her shoulders. His arm pressed against hers, their heat mingling. She shivered again and he couldn’t help smiling.
"All you say is true, Malfoy, but I still have no reason to trust you. Even if you aren’t your father’s lackey, Draco Malfoy is Draco Malfoy’s only concern. Draco Malfoy would crush Ginny Weasley in a heart beat to get the last butter pie," Ginny said quietly. Draco leaned in closer to catch her words, his smile growing broader by the second. She was sharp too.
"But if you know all that, what have you got to lose? You know this is merely an alliance of convenience . Your heart is already taken. So what would be a few public snogs, some handholding and a little moon-eyed gazing. All in the name of love. I know you can do the gazing, Weasley. You’ve had so much practice with Potter," Draco drawled into her ear, his lips just brushing against her earlobe. "And now that I think of it, you like the snogs too. Or am I wrong?"
Ginny primly folded her hands in her lap. "I would be lying if I said no to any of those things. You’re not really quite as stupid as Ron claims."
Draco snarled at that, but Ginny swat his arm lightly. "I’m speaking, Malfoy. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to...."
Ginny’s voice trailed off as Draco stared at her through his long eyelashes with large, sulky, grey eyes. His lower lip pouted. He managed to look pathetic, hopeful, and demanding all at once. Draco was quite proud of that little pose. He had spent many hours in front of the mirror until he had gotten the desired effect. Further testing on Pansy and various other girls affirmed his success. Lavender Brown had simpered at him while Padma Patil giggled insanely.
Ginny stared at him blankly. Or rather, she stared blankly at his lips. He pouted even more.
"Malfoy, you really think I’m stupid, don’t you? I grew up with 6 brothers. I know every trick in the book. You can’t fool me," Ginny said, licking her lips self consciously.
"Just one little kiss, Ginny. If you say no, then I’ll leave you alone, no more owls, no more meetings," Draco said slowly, ennunciating clearly for once, flashing his teeth and tongue with flair.
Ginny gulped. "Just one kiss, what harm could it do?" she asked herself, under her breath.
"Yes, just one little kiss."
Draco started to move his arm around Ginny to pull her in, but she turned, yanking him by the collar towards her, this time landing squarely on his lips. He smiled against her mouth, pulling her in closer. Much better. She wasn't the least bit timid. Perhaps she had been practicing on her pillow?
"So I take that as a yes, Weasley?" Draco said smugly as he pulled away from her.
Ginny snarled and Draco laughed, pressing a finger against her lips.
"Now, now, Weasley, we are allies for the moment. The least you can do is treat me with some civility. So, shall we begin planning our first public appearance? Or perhaps we should practice snogging so we actually look like a couple? It would be most embarrassing if you got my chin instead of my mouth, you know," Draco drawled.
"We will do nothing of the sort. I have to write an extra scroll as part of punishment for being late to Potions due to certain people who shall remain nameless," Ginny said, giving Draco a pointed look before continuing. "And Snape will have my head if it’s not impeccable."
"Weak excuse, Weasley. I can help you with the scroll. You know that Potions is my best class."
"Not all of us can have Death Eaters as fathers, Malfoy."
"Think what you will, Weasley. I am second in my year, only to Granger. Bring your scroll here during luncheon tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."
Draco stood up, carefully moving his robe off of Ginny. Ginny scampered off the desk and hastily shrugged on her robe. She paused for a moment, opening her mouth and then closing it. Draco raised his eyebrow at her. She said nothing and he was about to say something, anything, when she slapped him, dashing out of the cupboard.
Draco rubbed his now red cheek. That had gone rather better than he thought it would. He readjusted his robe for a moment and stepped back out into the library.
Notes
Notes 1. The butter pies that have been featured so prominently come from Diana Wynne Jones’ A Tale of Time City. I recommend you read that book, as well as her others, because DWJ is one of my favourite authors of all time. ^_^
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Draco and Ginny belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and various other corporations. They are being used here without permission and/or affiliation with the above. None of the authors listed here make any profit from these stories.