Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling does), I don't own the High clan (Lady Rhiyana does). The Lady has also been a Goddess in not only letting me borrow, but being a very nervous newbie's Beta reader. You rock, Petal.
Scent of magic
He casually brushed past her, either ignoring or oblivious to her presence, the contact leaving his scent on her robes. She watched as he strode confidently away from her knowing she was now marked with his particular heady scent.
He smelled like sex, leather and Dark Majicks.
The very air was permeated with his intoxicating aroma, unique to him. Not overwhelming, but noticeable nonetheless.
The leather scent was not unexpected, due to the presence of skin-tight calfskin leather pants, easily noticeable under his casually fastened black robe. The way they moulded to his trim, athletic body was positively sinful. His every movement took on a more sensual inflection, the every shift of his body apart of some unseen play, or ballet, his every gesture one of grace, fluidity and sensuality. Enough to send every female in the vicinity into heart palpitations.
The hint of sex could be a combination of the natural pheromones he gave off and his mere presence in the area. Since puberty – in fact a couple of years before that turning point in his life – he had been plagued by women between eight and eighty, drawn into his presence by his natural charisma and looks.
Those of an age closer to him had had a more extreme reaction. Rumours had flown through the ranks of the Slytherin house and filtered out into the school of his sexual accomplishments and prowess. Since the tender age of twelve, so the rumours say, when he had been initiated into the art of pleasuring a woman by an accommodating friend of his mothers on a particularly interesting holiday break from Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had discovered how much power the Art of Seduction allowed him over the fairer sex.
Not that he had ever underestimated the power that a woman could wield in her own right – living with Narcissa Malfoy would educate anyone on the dangerous power of a woman scorned or thwarted.
Draco had learned the subtle art and implemented it wisely. Which was why it was entirely possible that the reason he smelled like sex was because he had just engaged in the act. Undoubtedly with Miss Pansy Parkinson, who had made herself – all too obviously – available to Draco. At his beck and call, as it were.
The Dark Majicks; that on the other hand was intriguing. While he had always drawn around him an aura of the forbidden, never, to Ginny's knowledge, had he ever … smelt like performer of the Dark Arts.
Ginny Weasley had been blessed with a talent, the extremely rare and coveted talent of being able to – for lack of a better analogy – smell Magic. It was a trait that she had inherited from her mother's side of the family, passed down mostly to females, with only one male having been born with the talent in the past four generations. It also explained why Mrs Weasley had always been able to divine exactly what kind of scrapes her adventurous offspring had been involved in.
Draco had always smelt… intriguing. Being an apt pupil, learned in the art of magic, he had a gift for creating sweet magic, with a slight tang, which could be attributed to his small reckless streak. It was like chocolate. And just as stimulating.
But now his scent was different. His association with the Death Eaters, a known but unspoken factor among the students of Hogwarts, had opened up numerous opportunities for a wizard of Draco's talent and strength to learn not only about the more acceptable, common magics, but also the forbidden, so-called 'Dark Majicks'.
Ginny had observed how, over time, he had changed, how his magic had changed. Draco had always been an exceptional, albeit under-achieving student. The influence of his family name, the power of the High Clan- which was essentially the organization consisting of the older Wizarding families, a magical oligarchy established during the Binding of the Old Majicks and the forging of the foundations of the modern magical world, who's influence reached into every corner of Wizarding world- and its affiliates behind the Malfoy family, and Draco's own personal clout amongst the Slytherin children and those of other houses because of his association with people such as Crabbe and Goyle, had allowed him to 'coast' through much of his schooling.
Even those amongst the teaching staff who proclaimed loudly that they were not afraid of the repercussions of failing Draco in a particular subject, even going so far as to actively target him because of his House and family name (as well as his amazing arrogant attitude and treatment of the other students), thought twice before failing Draco Malfoy for what amounted to incredibly average school work.
Ginny couldn't take her eyes off him. At the age of seventeen, Draco had acquired an air of sophistication and power that he had only aspired to at the beginning of his schooling at Hogwarts. He had grown from a somewhat weedy, sharp-faced, cruel-looking child, into a tall, confidant, self-possessed young man.
Not handsome, like some of the other boys in his year, but almost… pretty. Definitely striking. Just short of shoulder length white-blond hair, more often than not tied back in the quintessential aristocratic queue, with arresting grey/blue eyes.
On any other person Draco's features would have looked feminine, but on him, they only emphasised the almost feline magnetism that radiated out of him.
She shivered. He had only brushed past her, as they, and a group of other Hogwarts students exited the gate of the school and started down the path that led to Hogsmeade. He strode to the front of the group, as if there was no question that he was to lead their little flock.
Ginny felt herself becoming frustrated and flustered, and wished that she hadn't ventured out into Hogsmeade with this group, instead waiting until the next weekend trip. But she knew that she could not wait. Hermione's birthday was coming soon, and she had forgotten to get her a present. While the Weasley family as a whole had always been a thrifty lot, even after Ginny's father had gained a post as Minister in the Wizarding government, and the fact that Hermione had expressed that she had no need of a gift for Ginny to show her affection, Ginny had been waiting to get this particular gift for her for a long time.
She knew that Hermione had been getting increasingly irritated over the fact that the only things that Ron and Harry ever bought her for her birthday were books. Or book vouchers. Or desk sets. Ginny had saved up money that she had made through tutoring students in her own and lower grades in advanced Charms. And she had to purchase it today.
Unfortunately, her plans for being on one of the earlier trips of the day had been thwarted when she had run into Snape and been given a detention. Because of that she had had to resort to being on the last Hogsmeade trip of the day. With the Slytherin group.
Draco Malfoy was of course there, along with his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and various other students from the sixth and seventh year.
Ginny wasn't the only non-Slytherin in the group; there were four Ravenclaw students, one girl from Hufflepuff and two other Gryffindor children. But the majority of the students there were Slytherin.
Ginny was extremely uncomfortable, as not one of the students there was one that she talked to. The two Gryffindor students were two boys in her own year that she had never taken the time to converse with. Mostly because they spent most of their time chasing after the more attractive girls in their year, the ranks of which Ginny did not include herself. Nor, as it seemed, did anyone else. Not that she particularly minded being exceedingly plain – except of course for her shock of red hair. She had in fact deliberately cultivated that 'plain Jane' image.
After the debacle of her throwing herself at Harry Potter after the House cup the previous year, Ginny had made no overt gestures to draw attention, and embarrass herself further. After Harry had turned her…well proposition…down, she had thought being the archetypical wallflower would be her best option.
Oh, Harry had been very understanding. Almost disgustingly sympathetic to her plight, but it does effect one when the object of not only one's affections, but hopes and stupid romantic daydreams had had to pull you aside and tell you that they could 'never look at you as less than a sister, and all the love and ties that that entailed, and they could never feel for you like that'. It does tend to slightly dent one's self confidence in matters of the heart.
And then he'd explained how he didn't feel it fair that anyone place any romantic expectations on him, seeing as how Professor Trelawney had predicted his imminent death just before his last quidditch match the previous morning. Ginny had not found a large amount of humour in that.
Ginny felt a jostle from behind, bringing her back to the present. 'Watch where you're walking, Weasley," someone sneered at her from a source from her behind and left.
'Sorry.' She mumbled, before moving through the group closer to the middle. Unlike her brother and Harry, Ginny knew when it was time to hold her tongue. Being stuck amongst a group of Slytherins happened to be one of those times.
They had gotten close enough to be within sight of the town, and Ginny wanted her business over with before dark settled, but after a dubious glance at the darkening evening sky, resigned herself to the doubtful honour of being escorted by a group of mostly Slytherin students after full night, hoping only to reach the town before most of the shops had closed.
The disruption of the solitude had caught the attention of the group's leader. Draco turned towards the disturbance, eyes narrowed in a frown, as if distracted from deep thought. 'What are you doing here, Weasley? You weren't scheduled to go on this trip. I would have been told.'
Which was true. As the only prefect of the unchaperoned group, Draco was – to all intents and purposes – in charge. The school had passed the policy not too long ago that the load heaped upon a teachers shoulders could be somewhat lessened by the removal of this task. As policy stood, a group – a small group – of sixth and seventh year students could travel to Hogsmeade under the supervision of a prefect.
How Draco Malfoy had acquired the position, one that represented the school's utmost trust in the person and their ability to be trusted with the power and the responsibility that came with it had baffled the rest of the student body. Or it would have if they hadn't assumed that Professor Snape had had a hand in his appointment.
Explanations varied, including anything from allowing Draco to freely roam the halls at night for the purpose of clandestine romantic assignations – some even holding the belief that they were with Snape himself – to it being a harmless favour to Draco's father from Snape.
It mattered not. Draco had acquired a position of responsibility and used it to his advantage.
By that time the group had halted, and circled around both herself and Draco as if eager to have an uninterrupted view of any upcoming confrontation.
'You heard me, Weasley. You're not supposed to be here.' He sneered.
'Look, I was supposed to be on one of the earlier trips but got stuck on this one.' She let loose an exasperated breath 'It can't be that much trouble, really. I'll stay out of your way, buy what I came for, and go home. Easy as that.' She said, snapping her fingers.
'Come on Draco.' Blaise interrupted, 'It can't be too much of a problem for her to come. She might even enjoy spending the time with us. Get to know us a little better,' he said evocatively, wiggling his eyebrows in an overly suggestive, almost comical way.
'Ahh… yeah. You won't even know I'm there,' Ginny continued after a dubious glance at Blaise.
'It might be fun, Draco,' Pansy inserted huskily. It sounded like she had been practicing the smoky-sounding voice and was tickled that she had a chance to show the results. She sashayed over to where Draco stood, running her hands over his covered chest when she reached his side, in an almost entreating way. But her eyes never left Ginny. 'Think of what we could do,' she whispered into his ear.
Draco was impassive and still, as if internally debating the pros and cons of the situation. Ginny was not quite sure what had happened, but she knew that they weren't talking about just the trip to Hogsmeade anymore. 'We have plenty of time.' Pansy continued.
Ginny was made somewhat uncomfortable by the slightly… well lecherous looks she was getting from the group, but decided to ignore them, believing them to be an intimidation tactic, an almost automatic reaction from the Slytherin students.
'Draco.' He turned to face Crabbe, who had been watching to progress of the sky intently, ignoring the soap opera unfolding before him. 'It's time.'
Silence reigned as each person in the circle watched the others, in a moment of supreme understanding.
She was almost scared to ask. 'Time for what?' she inquired, hesitantly.
Everybody turned to face her; quiet and still, like condemning sentinels, until Draco reached under his robes and drew out a white mask with a flourish. It was then that Ginny realised that none of them were wearing their Hogwarts uniforms, but completely black robes; not charcoal black, like the uniforms, but midnight black, like only a certain group of people wore… people whom also felt compelled from time to time to don white masks and reek havoc upon the Wizarding world.
'Dear Lady, no…' Ginny whispered, before Draco aimed his wand at her chest.
'Petrificus totalis.'