-Set after the events in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince-

The trio decided to finish off their education before beginning their quest for Horcruxes

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Ginny Weasley & Draco Malfoy

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All encompassing disclaimer: my humble work is as a twig to the forest of JKR's work. Not mine!

I really should be working on my other stories, not starting a new one, but /sigh/ I cannot resist this one!

Hope you enjoy! Remember to review and let me know what you think!

Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill

Chapter One: Of Weasels and Ferrets

Ginny Weasley and her best friend, Colin Creevey, wandered aimlessly through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In truth, the only reason they were walking at all was that it made excuses easier if they were to run into a prefect. Both Ginny and Colin were now entering their sixth year. The dreaded O.W.L.s were behind them, both passed (Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration) and failed (Divination, History of Magic.)

"Compared to last year," Colin said with an expansive gesture. "Things will be just too easy. Fewer classes, no really bad exams, nothing. What'll we do to keep ourselves busy?"

"I'm sure we'll find something," Ginny smiled. "We always do."

"Come on, Gin, lets get back to the common room before they send a search party."

Ginny paused by a rain-lashed window overlooking the Lake, and sighed. "I wish I could stay inside on a night like this."

"Quidditch?"

She nodded. "Harry seems bound and determined to have the team be at its best, a month and a half before the matches even begin."

"From what I've heard, Oliver Wood was worse. What is it about the Quidditch Captain badge that makes people go insane?"

"Only the boys, Colin. Verina Windridge, Hufflepuff's new captain, is just as sane as she's always been. Saner, since she dumped that git Harvey Perwin."

For a few minutes they ambled on in a comfortable silence. Ginny stopped to retie her shoe. The laces were forever coming undone, probably because she was the fifth Weasley to own then and they were in a rather sorry state. Indeed, her whole appearance gave the impression that nothing quite fit or stayed together. The too-long, tattered, hand-me-down robe she was wearing did nothing for her tall, narrow frame. The little she had in the way of womanly curves were obscured by the thick fabric.

"Ginny? Stand up," Colin said in a tone she hadn't been expecting. It was nervous, on the edge of fear.

Hastily, she tied a final knot and stood to see a pair of tall Slytherins walking toward them. She recognized them instantly as Malfoy and Zabini, both prefects, both bad news.

"Do you have your camera?" she asked.

Colin shook his head. "Why? Do you think they'd go easy on us if I just offered to take their pictures?"

"No, but people might like to see our last minutes. You know, at the funeral."

He grinned.

"Well, well, well," said Malfoy when he drew within their range of hearing. "If it isn't the Weasel and her boyfriend."

"Well, well well," she replied smiling sweetly. "If it isn't the Ferret and his."

Malfoy gave her an all out glare, but Zabini just shrugged and looked curiously at her.

Malfoy took a menacing step forward. If he was trying to intimidate her with his considerable hight, he was out of luck. He was only a few inches taller then her, and she was used to having six extremely tall older brothers attempting to boss her around. "That was out of order, Weasley. You--"

"I'm sure your planning to give me any number of fiendish punishments, but I'm warning you, in case you've forgotten, that the person who gives the detention is obliged to supervise it. Think about it. Come on, Colin."

She put a hand on his arm to turn him around (common sense said never to turn your back on a Slytherin, particularly one you have just insulted, and Colin was nothing if not practical).

"I didn't give you permission to leave, Weasel."

"I didn't ask for it, Mr. Ferret, sir."

"Detention every night for a week."

She smiled even more sweetly at him. "Whatever you say, Malfoy. What'll Parkinson say when she hears you've given her up for a whole week just so you can spend time with a Gryffindor, and a Weasley one at that!"

To her complete shock, Malfoy and Zabini both smirked. Zabini even seemed to be having trouble smothering a few laughs.

"What?" said Colin. "You think she can't make life a living hell for you? Try really offending her, and you'll get the bat bogey hex."

"When you see Weasel senior, Weaselette, ask him what he's on his evening for the next week."

With that the two seventh years continued down the hall and off to whatever unpleasant business Slytherins preferred to devote their spare time to.

"What was that about?" she asked Colin. "D'you suppose Ron has detention too?"

"Would you be surprised?"

"But its only the first week of school!"

"I could say the same thing to you, Gin. And what would you tell me?"

"To mind your own business, in a very rude fashion. But you would be right, I suppose."

"Ginny, what possessed you to insult and provoke him that way? He's bad enough when he doesn't have a reason, let alone when he does."

"Well, when people snark at, me, I snark right back. If you were a younger sibling, you'd understand."

"Dennis doesn't snark at me."

"But you're a nice older brother. There's a difference. Like there's no constant vying for the upper hand."

Colin grinned. "Let's hurry. or you won't have time for any dinner before Quidditch practice."

Ginny moaned softly. "I wish my detention was starting tonight so I could give the flying shower a miss."

"I'll smuggle some hot chocolate into Gryffindor tower somehow, Gin. And there are spells to repel water."

"You still feel wet, even if it get slides off."

"Stop whining, dear. You sound like Crookshanks when he wants to be scratched."

"At least I come sans claws!"

Colin laughed. "You have plenty of claws, Gin. There's the Portrait now!"

The Fat Lady looked down at them imperiously, her forever-pink dress decidedly unflatteringly. "Password?" she said, stretching the word out. 'Paaaahswaaaahrd?'

"Trichotillomania," Ginny said, and clambered through the hole that was revealed as the Fat Lady swung forwards.

"What does that even mean?" Colin said as he followed her.

"I'm not sure. I only remember the Professor McGonagall saying that Peeves would like it."

"Ginny!" a new voice: Dyana Smitheton, a girl in Ginny's year. They were friends, but not close. There was an irreconcilable difference in outlook between them. Ginny wanted to do something with her life, be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player, or even a Healer, while Dyana's sole goal in life was to attract as many boys as possible. Ginny sometimes thought that her sole interest in magic was the beautification vein. Would she even be in Hogwarts if it weren't for the occasional charm they learned that could be used to curl eyelashes, of a potion that would make hair smooth and shiny?

"What is it, Dy?"

"Harry told me to give you a message," she paused, "Hi there, Colin." The flirtatious look on her face was almost laughable.

You wouldn't make calf-eyes at him if you knew just how utterly uninterested in you and your batting eyelashes he is, Dyana, Ginny thought, then realized, Yes, she probably would.

"What's the message?" she prompted.

"He said to say that he hopes you aren't going to make a habit of being late for practice. And there was something else. Um, he said to say . . . I remember now! He said to say that you had better get down there quickly, or he might be forced to let Dean onto the team after all. I don't know what that means, but--"

"Shoot!" Ginny said explosively. "I'll miss dinner, and Harry's threatening to kick me off the team. Shoot!"

"I'll try and get you some food too, Ginny. Run!"

"Thanks, Colin, see you later if Harry doesn't kill me! Bye, Dyana!"

She dashed off to her dormitory and snatched up her broom. It was a Cleansweeps 15, nothing too flashy but a decent enough flyer. As she made her way back toward the Portrait, dodging fellow Gryffindors, Colin caught her arm.

"Impervius," he said, and tapped her nose with his wand. Small blue sparks issued from the tip. "I knew you'd forget," he explained.

She hugged him around the shoulders. "Thanks again, Colin."

"Tell Harry," he called after her as she slipped through the portrait hole, "That if he does kill you, I'll be out for revenge. I have a camera and I know how to use it!"

Still smiling at her friend's words, Ginny ran down several corridors, navigated six flights of shifting stairs, raced through still more corridors, out the enormous door that led to the grounds and the driving rain, and all the way to the changing rooms at the Quidditch Pitch.

As soon as she was dressed in her Quidditch robes, she went once again into the punishing rain, mounted her broom, and joined the other members of her team in the sky.

It was a hard practice, made harder by Harry's insistence that they use the entire three hours set aside for the practice. The rain was falling so hard that it hurt. Bludgers went arry, the snitch proved uncatchable, and the quaffle was beaten off course.

When Harry finally let them land, they ran for the changing rooms, shivering.

"Ron?" Ginny asked through chattering teeth.

Her brother glared morosely at her. He had missed quite a few goals, putting him a bad mood. "What?" he said grumpily.

"Do you happen to have detention this week?"

His expression darkened. "Yeah, I do. Damn, I'd forgotten. That cow Parkinson caught me using spelling-correcting ink. How'd you hear?"

Ginny pretended not to have heard the last remark.

"Ginny, I want to talk to you," Harry said sternly in his no-nonsense, I'm-the-captain-of-this-Quidditch-team-and-I-will-be-obeyed look.

"Alright," it didn't hurt to be cautious. Harry had been a little weird around her since they broke up.

Harry waited until all the others were gone before he spoke. "Look, Ginny," he said. "You need to decide whether or not you are committed enough to the team to stay on it."

"Harry, I was late for one practice! That's all! It was a mistake, and I'm very sorry. But I think you're blowing the whole thing out of proportion. "

He passed a hand over his face. "Maybe you're right. The truth is, I'm tired, and not looking forward to another hour on my broom trying to get that rotten snitch. So I'm going to be honest with you. I don't want you on the team, Ginny. Don't get me wrong. You're an amazing chaser, better then the other two easily. Thats great. I want your skills on the team, but I just don't want you."

Silence pressed on her ears. His words stung. But he was right. If she was disruptive to the team, no matter how good she was, they would be better off without her. Hot words sprang to her lips, angry words. Maybe he deserved them, but she swallowed them back down. She really didn't need to fight with Harry on top of detention with Malfoy.

"Give it a chance, Harry. We've been friends for a long time. Give yourself time to get used to the way things are. If it doesn't work out, then go ahead and kick me off the team. I won't make a fuss. Just promise me that you'll give it a chance first!"

"Alright. " he let out a sharp sigh. "Its not your fault that I'd rather watch you then the snitch. I promise."

"Thanks. You go ahead. I'll catch the snitch. I have some stuff I need to think about anyway."

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it. He brushed a strand of dripping red hair off her forehead. "You're too nice to me."

"Bye," she said, and mounted her broom again.

Through the rain, she could just barely make out his shape, watching as she rose into the air, then turning and striding off toward the castle.

Come on, Ginny. You used to be a seeker. Go on. You can do this. . .

-

An hour and a half later, she stumbled back into Hogwarts, exhausted and dripping.

"Why oh why did I offer to do that?" she asked the empty air. No answer came. She had forgotten that while Harry, as a seventh year, was allowed to be out and about at this late hour, she had a nine o'clock curfew. She was lucky that the front door wasn't locked yet. But she didn't have a hope in hell of getting back to the common room without being caught by either Filch or Mrs. Norris, or a prefect on patrol.

As if her very thoughts had summoned them, she heard footsteps approaching. Heavy, more then one set. Before she could even think about hiding, Crabbe and Goyle emerged into the Entrance Hall.

I seem to be having a serious problem with pairs of Slytherins today.

They stopped. Stared at her. Looked at each other. Back at her.

"Weasley," said Goyle.

"We've been looking for you," Crabbe's voice was more like the grunting of a dying rhinoceros then the speech of a human being.

"For me?" Ginny fingered her wand in her pocket. A well placed bat bogey hex might get her out of this situation, but it would certainly put her in another. Its only the first week of term! I don't want more detentions lined up for me! Better to see what they wanted and if they were willing to negotiate. Or rather, if they were capable of negotiation. She had never been able to fathom how a pair of such stupid prats had managed to make it into the seventh year. It was still a hotly debated subject whether or not they were capable of reading and writing. The general consensus was yes. How else could they had passed the written portions of the O.W.L. examinations?

"Yeah, Weasel Guts. For you."

"What a charming name. Shall I call you Pudding Face and him Boil, then?"

"What're you on about?"

Goyle broke in. "I don't care what she's talking about. We're supposed to take her back to the boss."

"Right. The boss."

Ginny was beginning to get really nervous. 'The boss?' Had Malfoy decided that her detentions couldn't wait? Or had someone tipped him off that she was out late?

"Do we knock her out or just carry her?"

"Knock her out."

"Right."

And before she could do a thing about it, a fist the size of a ham slammed into her skull. Darkness seeped into of the edges of her vision. The last thing she heard before she collapsed was Goyle saying, "Blimey, she has a hard head."

-

"Ennervate."

The word echoed through Ginny's mind as she came to awareness. It was dark. At first she thought her eyes were still closed, but after fluttering them open and closed several times, she realized that her surroundings were perfectly black, black as a moonless, starless night. The perfect, unbroken darkness that belongs only in crypts.

"What --"

"It's alright," said a familiar, muted male voice. She jumped. It was the same voice that had spoken the spell.

"Zabini?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's alright Ginny," said a very different voice. "I think he's okay."

"Colin?"

"Yeah," said Zabini. "I caught your little friend sneaking around, apparently looking for you."

"So then Zabini decided to act the big, bad prefect. You know, give me detention, dock points off Gryffindor, escort me back to the seventh floor in shame," said Colin, startling Ginny with the comfortable way he addressed the seventh year. "Then we heard all this banging and thumping in the Entrance Hall."

"Something about Weasel Guts and Boils," Zabini added. "There were Crabbe and Goyle ready to drag your senseless body off to do Merlin knows what. They both ran off as soon as they saw me and Creevey."

He really did sound remarkable . . . not evil for a Slytherin. Almost friendly.

"What were you doing out so late, Gin? And you're soaking wet."

"I was catching the snitch," she said absently. "Where are we?"

"I thought that was you precious Potter's job, Weasley. Are you so much of a push over that all he has to do is kiss you and you'll do what ever he says?" Her cheeks flushed, and she was glad it was dark. There was the tone of Slytherin malice whose absence she had noted.

"It was only a favor, Zabini. Friends do each other favors now and then. He was really tired, and I needed to think about a few things."

"Such a devoted little girlfriend he has."

She let out a sharp sigh. "Look, Harry and I broke up months ago. I am one hundred percent over him. I am not his girlfriend anymore, nor do I have any desire to be. It was a little girl's crush on what she view as the perfect man, nothing else. Now please tell me where we are!"

There was a rustle of robes, as if Zabini had shrugged. "Under the second staircase out of the Entrance Hall. "

"Can we get out now?"

"No."

"Colin, do you know how to get out?"

"Sorry, Gin."

"Is there any chance that you'll ever let us out of this pit, Zabini?"

"When Malfoy arrives, we'll go somewhere else. We need to talk."

"Sorry, but I don't really fancy talking to Malfoy right now. I've had enough pain inflicted upon me for one day." She dug around in her pocket for her wand, ignoring the droplets of water that landed on her face and hands. "Lumos."

Her wand tip lit up, revealing many spiderwebs, a dusty stone floor, and, barely visible -- a door.

"Goodbye, Zabini. Give Malfoy my regards." To her surprise, he made no more to stop her as she opened the door and walked through, Colin right behind her.

"It doesn't matter if its now or later, Weasley," he said.

"Let's go!" Colin said.

Only when she was safely in Gryffindor Tower, eating a roll that Colin had snuck her from dinner and in warm dry clothes did it occur to her to wonder whether Zabini wasn't the 'boss' Crabbe and Goyle had been talking about. Or even Malfoy. After all, they followed him around like puppies.

Doberman puppies, she thought, and fell asleep.


What do you think? Review and let me know! -Lizzy