"Ginny! Ginny, you'll be late for dinner if you don't come down. I am not asking those house-elves to bring you any more food," Hermione said, stamping her foot. Ginny groaned and buried her face even more in her pillow. She'd refused to go and eat dinner in the Great Hall for the past three nights after being attacked (Really, Ginny, he didn't hurt you) and there was no way Hermione could be swayed any further on the house-elf front.
"Okay, okay," she grumbled. She got up and felt like a shower. She'd been trying to take her showers at off hours, not wanting to hear the other girls in adjacent stalls swooning about being found by Malfoy in the shower.
While in the soothing spray, she thought about the object of her intimate fantasies. She changed her train of thought. What to tell Malfoy? She'd lose either way. He would either believe her and make fun of her or disbelieve her and continue tormenting her. When she thought about his teeth on the back of her neck she shuddered and her skin pebbled with goose bumps. Her hands strayed and she sighed heavily.
Where was the stupid prat? Since she was quickly becoming the center of his afternoon delights he found that her face was fading from his memory. He needed to see her, to burn that visage into his brain again. He noticed he hadn't seen her at dinner for the past few days which was where he planned to visually stalk her for a bit of fun.
When he entered the Great Hall he was relieved to see her sitting at the Gryffindor table. He sauntered in as always, purposely wearing the robe she had worn. It titillated him to wear something that would be so permanently etched in her memory.
When she accidentally caught his gaze over the tables, her mouth dropped. He let his features turn into something close to a smile and rolled his neck to bring his nose closer to the collar of the robe. His eyes dragged themselves closed and when he turned back to her he opened his eyes and licked his lips.
There it was! He saw it. He'd heard she'd been sulking and upset, and the glint of indignation in her eye cheered him immensely. There was no fun to his chasing her when she was despondent and depressed. There was no fun in breaking that sort of creature. He really did wonder who she had been thinking about, and lately it was beginning to rub him the wrong way.
He had no idea, and he supposed he didn't care. But he had this urge to know, to torment her for it. The look on her face when he caught her, the looks on her face when he'd cornered her were ones he wanted to keep producing.
Suddenly he brightened. Double Potions day was coming up.
Merlin, but he was sexy. Stop! Just stop. He hates you. He wants to make your life a living hell. That pale arse! It bothered her to know that she had, since their last encounter, wondered what Malfoy might look like if he weren't so glacially perfect. If that hair wasn't gelled to within an inch of its life, if his face relaxed, if he had his shirt off. It was patently obvious that he'd been with a few Slytherin girls…ask any one of them and they claimed to have been the ones, or knew the ones who had seen his tall, lithe body.
Ginny let these thoughts wander through her head during Transfiguration. McGonagall tapped her sharply on the shoulder with her wand, once, and it was more than enough to push him from her mind.
She worried most about the upcoming Potions class, and not just because Malfoy would be there.
This week's Potions would be held outside, in the near dark and freezing October night. She was desperately grateful that it would at least be close to dark and no one would really be able to pay attention to her robe. Her winter robe was painfully thin, she being the fourth to wear it. It hit her at about her knees, not nearly long enough to keep her legs warm. She was going to get some fabric in Hogsmeade to elongate it, but she'd forgotten last time and the next visit wasn't for two weeks.
Snape relished this particular Potions class because it was outside in the cold and dark, something he liked. He was teaching another flammable potion, and didn't feel it was prudent to have someone like Longbottom in his precious classroom with that kind of power. His students began to trickle outside, bundled in warm robes that brushed the ground.
There were tables set out for the students, each with a lamp that flickered brightly and all the necessary ingredients. Everyone was in place except for Malfoy and young Miss Weasley.
Ginny came running out of the castle, afraid she was late. She rushed into her spot next to Colin about the time that Malfoy came by. As he floated past his hand brushed Ginny's backside. She smothered a crude response and tried to compose herself.
"Malfoy," Snape said carefully. "You're late." Draco stood above his classmates.
"So sorry, Professor. Only making sure Weasley came out of the shower long enough to come to class." Draco directed his insolent gaze to Ginny's purple face. The class broke out into nervous giggles that stopped immediately when Snape glared at them.
"Make sure it doesn't happen again, Malfoy." Draco's feral smile wasn't reassuring at all.
Halfway through Potions, Ginny was shivering so much that she could barely hold the glass vials. They clanked together so much that even Colin tried to make them stop.
"Colin, it's no use. I'll break this stuff or mess up the potion if I keep on. I'll just have to pretend I'm working." Colin nodded, about to speak when Snape cut him off.
"Malfoy, be so kind as to help check these pathetic potions," Snape said. "Seeing as how you're done with yours." Draco bowed slightly in deference. He exited his seat and headed straight for Ginny and Colin.
He began to harangue them about their weak potion. She glared at him defiantly. Colin was not much help; he was so cowed by the great Malfoy that he answered only in sycophantic nods. The second Colin looked away Malfoy locked eyes with her.
"Who?" he mouthed. She resolutely turned her head.
"Colin!" Malfoy said.
"NO!" Ginny almost shouted. Both Malfoy and Colin looked at her, one puzzled and the other merely pretending to be.
"No, what, Miss Weasley?" Ginny flushed again and closed her mouth tight.
"As I was beginning to say, Creevey, get back to work," Malfoy said, moving on behind them but not before he brushed up against her again. It took all she had not to scream at him and rip his bloody head off. She shook her head in response to Colin's questioning look.
As they worked through the last hour, Ginny began to feel almost uncomfortably warm. She looked down. Her robe was brushing the ground.
Someone had charmed her.
After the horrific lesson was over, Ginny made up her mind. She stomped over to Malfoy's desk, came up behind him, and tugged on the neck of his robe so hard he nearly fell down.
"Twenty-five points fr-" Malfoy began, but this time she came in front of him and grabbed his robe and brought him close to her face.
"I don't need your bleeding charity. Don't ever charm me again. Leave me alone," she said. She pulled him closer, noses nearly touching. Her hand fisted tightly at the clasp of his robe.
"And if you ever surprise me again in the hallway I'll make sure everyone knows you tried to do something improper to me."
He licked the tip of her nose.
With a disgusted noise, she shoved him back. She turned tail and he called after her.
"Not in the hallways."
A few days later the subject of the Halloween ball came up.
Hermione and Ron were going together, after much bickering. Harry was taking a fifth year Ravenclaw. Colin, Seamus and Dean tried to ask Ginny. Ginny knew it wasn't really so much that they wanted to ask her, but most likely had been threatened by Ron to escort her. She had declined every invitation, mostly because she did not want to run into Malfoy at such a highly hormone-charged event. It would be easy for him to corner her in the shadows of the Great Hall.
Besides, Ginny thought sadly, any money I'd have spent on a costume is going to have to go to getting new fabric for my robes. She did welcome the silence though. After all the hustle and bustle of the girls getting ready, she'd have four or five hours alone in her bedroom. She planned to catch up on some reading, maybe write one of her upcoming Herbology essays, or maybe just go to bed early. Yes, the latter certainly appealed to her. She was now looking forward to the weekend.
She began making regular trips to the Great Hall again and just as regularly ignoring the steely eyes that she knew were following her every move. It was tough not to look up and meet the gaze full on, but she couldn't trust herself.
Malfoy even left her alone during the Double Potions just before the ball. He came into class, answered questions in his maddeningly lazy way and swept out without so much as a glance or a touch.
Ginny heightened her watch that night. She was sure that in place of not bothering her in class would make Malfoy think he had to do double duty. But he was nowhere to be found. She made her way quickly back to the tower.
Malfoy instantly regretted asking Pansy Parkinson. The bint was shrill and really not very comely. He'd shagged her three times when he just could not stand his hand or his stash of Playwizard any more. The other two were just two girls who wouldn't quit asking him for a glimpse of the Malfoy staff. He shagged them to get it over with. With Pansy it had taken him what seemed like days to get her cloying scent off his body, her shrieking voice out of his ears.
They stood on a magical staircase that Dumbledore created from which each person could show off their costume and descend to the party. Pansy clung to his arm and teetered in her high heels that she had elevated to six inches. She was at eye level with Draco and talking in her yowling voice.
"I'm sorry, Pansy, what did you say?" Draco asked in a bored voice. The murderous look in her eyes gleamed as she repeated whatever inane thing she had said before. He smiled emptily and scanned the Great Hall for Ginny Weasley. He wanted to see what cute costume she could cobble together with her precious little resources. He'd had an idea of the costume he wanted to see her in. He signed inaudibly and put on his party face as he gracefully escorted Pansy down the steps. He was forced to put a levitating charm on the chit lest she fall head over fake heels.
There were the usual gasps over how dashing Draco looked and how ridiculous Pansy looked. Pansy had insisted that he go as Salazar Slytherin and she as his concubine. Pansy was covered in emerald green velvet with gauzy wraps of silver that she claimed she bewitched to exactly match Draco's eyes. Said eyes rolled when he had seen her earlier that evening. She looked more like a Muggle hussy, the kind he had seen when accompanying his father through the dregs of London.
Draco, on the other hand, had chosen to go simply. He wore Ginny's robe (which was what he now privately referred to it as) over an emerald green button-down shirt that gleamed as if it were made of jewels. His pants were black leather. He had fastened the robe down far enough that it revealed his pale throat above the green shirt. Around his neck hung a silver chain with a long serpent charm.
He'd found a simple eye mask and transfigured his toothbrush into a paintbrush (not a good idea, as he found out later). He conjured silver and glittery green paint and set to work. He'd created intricate green swirls and lines around his eyes and the edges. He was rather satisfied with himself…his father had never let him draw since he was a small child. Charming it with a sticking charm, it rested lightly on the skin around his eyes and nose.
Ginny was thrilled to hear the chatter and the patter of feet die down. Several people had tried to coax her into a last minute costume. She declined each invitation with a smile, telling them that she was desperately behind in some of her reading. She settled into her bed and pulled the curtains on three of the four sides, leaving the side open that faced the window. She loved her view; she could see the lake and lots of stars. She often curled up in the window seat to read or watch thunderstorms beat relentlessly on the glass.
Tonight, though, she just wanted to open the window and get some fresh air. That would be nearly impossible without freezing, she thought, for the temperature was dipping low. Sighing, she slipped into her nightclothes, a too-long tee shirt that read "See Romania" on it in flashing letters. Or, it had flashed, she reflected. It was so old it just finally gave up.
She slid into her bed, the sheets clean and warm thanks to the house-elves. She pulled her red down comforter up around her and closed her eyes.
Draco had had enough. He'd almost asked Ron where his silly little sister was, but wisely decided that asking Ron in the first place and in front of Pansy wouldn't be the smartest move he'd ever made in his life.
"Pansy, would you like some punch?" he asked. Her eyes brightened.
"Why, yes I would, Draco. How thoughtful!" He pulled back his lips in some semblance of a smile and set off.
Once he got outside ten meters of her he shook his head. It would never occur for her to look for him, because she'd assume he was talking with friends. She couldn't move that well on her own anyhow. He let his face relax when he was outside the Great Hall and smiled for the first time, a real smile, knowing that he'd just ditched the belle of the ball. He set off towards Gryffindor.
When he reached the Fat Lady, she gave him a disapproving look. What was it with these Gryffindors? Even the paintings hated him. He gave his Head Boy password (parselmouth) and the painting swung open sullenly. He ignored it and went directly up the stairs that led to the sixth and seventh year dorms. He stopped in front of her door, which was covered in her and her absent roommate's names and little pictures from the Daily Prophet.
There was no light and he wondered if she was even there. Bloody hell, should have checked the library first, he thought. He didn't want to do an Alohamora to unlock the door either, as it would make a sound. Tentatively, he tried the door. It swung open.
In the faint moonlight he could see that the drapes of the bed closest to the window were closed. He shut the door behind him, hearing only a faint click as the door eased into place. Silently he picked his way to her bed. He stood at the foot of it listening to the sound of her quiet breathing and imagining he could also see the soft rise and fall of her breasts.
Realizing one side of her drapes were open, he moved to the other side.
For someone who had never proclaimed anything beautiful he was damn close to admitting it now.
"Sonitus nullus," he whispered to the room at large. The soundproofing charm would keep whatever happened in there silent to the outside world.