She skipped through the deserted corridors on the fourth floor, humming softly to herself, posters in one hand and a stapler in the other.
The dark, raven-haired girl stopped in front of a blank stone wall and cocked her head to one side, studying it for a few minutes. She then shrugged and proceeded to staple it to the wall, making a loud racket but not really caring.
Draco Malfoy turned around, rolling his eyes and the loud noise that came from the other side of the darkened corridor. These rebels really were that stupid, weren't they?
He snaked a hand around the bend and made contact with fabric. He smirked - now he had this moron. He yanked only to be faced with-
A small girl.
Her hair was pure black, almost blue. And her skin was a soft mocha. He glared down at her, to see that her eyes were trained solely on the floor.
"Look at me," he growled. His temper was beyond all reasoning. He was Head Boy, and all these rebellions made it more work than luxury.
She did look up, smirking. He was a bit taken aback. None of the rebels he'd caught and punished so far had been smirking; in fact, they'd all been cowering and pleading. And now he got mad. No one smirked at Draco freaking Malfoy when they's been caught doing something they could be imprisoned or even tortured for.
And certainly not a first-year, judging by the sheer puniness of this kid. And it was a Ravenclaw, it seemed, from a glance at the robes. Hufflepuff, understandable. Gryffindor? Expected. But Ravenclaw? They were usually more sensible than that.
He grabbed a handful of the girl's long silky hair and pulled, hoping a bit of roughing up would get the message across. "What the hell are you doing out of bed, firstie?"
The kid looked straight at him, a smirk still plastered across her face even two feet below him. "Why, Malfoy, I had no idea you had to resort to pulling people's hair to get them to look at your ugly mug now."
His breath came out quick, shallow, and loud. Only one girl had ever had the courage or motivation to talk to him like that. But it couldn't be...
He looked at her eyes, fearful of what he might find. Unfortunately, his suspicions were confirmed. The cheeky Ravenclaw was looking up at him with the biggest and deepest hazel eyes he'd ever seen.
Oh, shit.
"Ginevra."
She grinned up cheekily - olive skin, tiny limbs, so-black-it-looked-blue-and-also-fake hair - at him. "Draco."
"What are you doing? You have no idea how much trouble you could get in-" He hissed, knowing even as he tripped over his words that reasoning with Weasley was futile.
"Oh, I know. But it's all worth it." She shrugged and replied matter-of-factly, gesturing to the Dumbledore's Army poster behind her.
"You idiot. Do you even know what happened to some of the other kids?" His words were tripping over themselves. If anyone was to see her...
"I know. I'm the one who sent them."
His glancing around came to a standstill as he slowly looked at his former lover, his eyes flashing.
"You what?"
"Honestly, Draco. What do you think I do at night, braid my hair?" Amusement was playing on her lips in a way that was even more familiar than the warmth of her eyes, and it infuriated him.
"I'd go along the lines of actually sleeping."
"It's war, Draco. Even I'm not that stupid," she shot back in a voice that implied that he was, indeed, maybe that stupid. "I started the DA again to make a difference, to help anyway I possibly can."
"You'll get tortured." He pleaded desperately.
"Been there, done that." She rolled her eyes. He couldn't believe how blasé she was being about all of this.
Oh, great. There was no getting her out of this. Or was there? He ran a hand down her arm, and was pleased to feel her shiver.
"Stop it, Malfoy." Suddenly she was the one speaking sharply.
He pretended her calling him 'Malfoy' didn't affect him at all, and lowered his voice to the silky tone he knew she hated, "But I thought you liked it."
"Yeah, three years ago, when I was a complete fool."
He glared at her to cover up the hurt. A complete fool. Is that what she thought? The one girl it'd actually hurt to hurt, and she'd gotten over him easily. He still looked across the Great Hall, to look at her change over the years, and though she never looked back, he'd believed she still felt something but disguised it in her hate. He'd never thought, though-
"Well, Malfoy, if you'll kindly let me go, I've got a revolution to work on."
He stared at her arch eyebrow and twinkling eyes for a minute before he made up his mind. Waving his wand, he nonverbally removed her Glamour, revealing his gorgeous, tall, redheaded, and pissed-off ex-girlfriend.
She opened her mouth to speak when he brought his mouth down crashing onto hers. She stood frozen, as if in shock, until she gasped. He, of course, took advantage of the opportunity, weaving his hand through her shock of crimson hair and pressing his lips more insistently to her plush mouth. She still tasted like apples.
And she was responding to the kiss. Quite eagerly, he noticed with satisfaction, as her hand raked across his back.
He smirked and broke away, leaving a very angry and very flustered Ginny Weasley in his wake. He strode away, tossing back a grin at the ferocious lioness for good measure.
Two nights later, once again on patrol, Draco Malfoy turned a corner on the sixth floor to spy a figure dressed all in black spraying graffiti on the walls.
"Stupid adrenaline junkie," he muttered, but he couldn't stop the sneaky smile from spreading across his face.
