Draco Malfoy doesn’t know how to have any fun. Incidentally neither does Ginny Weasley, so it’s all rather doomed from the start.
The end is never really the end, it's always just another beginning.
“Oi! Weaselcheeks!” or "Draco Malfoy was impossible to get rid of."
Harry and Hermione spend a Christmas together. For Kalie!
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D/G, during HBP. Draco helps Ginny realize something...
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Two fingers reached to trace the inky blackness, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. All that he had feared to fight and yearned to be rid of, now branded on his very skin.
She wishes she hated him. It is what she desires, to feel that pitching, consuming hatred devouring her and leaving no room for anything more.
Want to know how Draco and Ginny redefine the term 'tangled?'
Draco Malfoy couldn’t say he cared for art. It was all right to look at once in awhile, he supposed, and it cost quite a few shiny galleons. But Draco had never really thought about it, much more concerned with school, Quidditch, and himself. And, simply by chance, it was his burden to get involved with someone who carried a bright torch for it.
I, Ginevra Weasley, am a Witch, and as I am damned in body and soul, my sentence on this day is death. The sentence is to be executed immediately, without appeal, by the expurgation of fire.
'Tell me lies. Tell me all I’ve ever wanted to hear.'
Students screamed, ducking and laughing, yelling, brightening the usual dull Hall into a mess of soaring food and a makeshift battle field, Ginevra Weasley and Draco Malfoy the reason of it.
"A stunned moment passed, the Hall blinking in confoundment before- A chair flopped over with a bang, and Seamus Finnigan smiled hugely, “FOOD FIGHT!” "
There was nothing as frustrating as Ginny Weasley in a state of all-consuming temper.
"What do you do, when you know something's bad for you, and you just can't let go?"
Flying pink hearts, chocolate frog songs, and muffins. What ever is Draco to do? Very late Valentine's ficcie.
He had thought she was dull, plain, even a bit ugly. That’s what she had struck him as- nothing special. Nothing beautiful.
Maybe it was another crusade of ‘improving house relations,’ or maybe it was because the school needed more money, or maybe it was an advanced form of brutal torture, and Draco was positive the third was true, at least to himself.