Break from the mold, never do what your told
After all, what are feelings of rage for?
So I say, I got a sureshot way to work things out
All of this growing up has worn you down
I got a sureshot way to kill your doubts
Find what your following and chase it down

--Yellowcard, Sure Shot

I still had a few minutes until breakfast started, and I was supposed to meet Hermione, Ron, and Harry in the Common Room. I made sure Emily and Matilda weren't going to finish with their showers for a while, and they wouldn't, so I went over to the mirror quietly to glare at my reflection. One of the things I'd never do is show my roommates that I sometimes do care about what I look like. I pride myself almost childishly on the fact that I don't give a damn about most things they do. They think I'm so weird, but we're friends anyway.

Examining the reflection I see, I unconsciously criticize myself. Hermione said I'm prettier than she is, but any girl will say that in order to see their friend argue against the claim, even Hermione. Anyway, she knows it's not true; the girl is beautiful. Just not in that usual way. She's soft-complexioned and snow-white, with soft lips and fluttery eyelashes. Her hair can be a horror, but some days it has its own disheveled poetry, reflected back in the eyes of my brother and Harry. They're both just so shy and it rakes my nerves. Why can't they just go on with it and tell her what she is? That whole group is just full of mixed messages and incomprehension. Sometimes it's cute, but sometimes it sickens me… but I guess if either of them made a move towards Hermione, the other would snap. That would be fun to watch, in a morbid sort of way.

I suppose the thing I mean to say, is that I am not prettier than Hermione. Especially after that mishap back in third year when she'd been attacked on her way to potions, ending in her now perfect teeth. My own teeth are straight, but a bit large, making my smiles juvenile (not large enough to be bucky like poor Hermione was). My nose is too long and my cheeks are still full with baby fat. It isn't fair that in my cheeks is centered all the fat that Ron is missing.

They only thing I guess I like about my face is my brown eyes… I like to call them 'mahogany' because 'brown' just sounds so plain. I suppose my hair isn't too horrible either. Bright red, it's really shiny and it always glints like copper. When I was younger Mum used to have me wear it in pigtails with the fringe so short and curled I could die. As soon as I started at Hogwarts I stopped doing it like that. Of course, it looked positively horrible my first few years… I daresay I had an excuse to look bad in my first year, but… I won't go into that. Around last year I learned a few basic curling charms from waiting for Emily to get ready, and toned them down so my hair now has the slightest wave, with small curls at the end. I'm rather proud of it, now that I think about it. And now it's looking better as my fringe is longer. Eh. Time to meet the Trio.

"Oh Gin!" It's Emily. I cringe as she bounces into the room in a towel like a muggle cheerleader or something. "What's wrong?"

"Don't prance… Especially not in that towel."

She grins and hops again. The towel strains from her breasts. I pity it.

"God, you can take someone's eye out with those things," I murmur as I grab my messenger bag, but smile quietly to myself. Leah was very proud of her growth spurt last summer. Before then all three of us were equally pancake-like, but now Megan and I get to tease her newfound buxomness. Actually, over the summer we'd also gotten bits of shapes and we were carrying a little more up top, but really nothing much to boast about.

"Got to go see my brother."

Emily's eyes flashed with interest. She knew that "my brother" not only entailed Ron Weasley, but also Hermione Granger and, best of all, Harry Potter.

"Emily, we'll be across the table from you, calm down." I smiled a small smile, and my eyes flicked back to my reflection. "It's only Harry Potter anyway. He's been around here since we came."

She smiled again – why did it seem the smile was different? — and went over to her bed. "See you, Ginny."

"Yup." I left with a wave over my shoulder.


Breakfast is probably one of the few things at Hogwarts that doesn't change from day to day. Well, usually.

See, you go in the room and wait until eight, if you come early. At exactly eight, Dumbledore comes in. When he sits down, every empty plate at the tables fills with food, and you start eating. Breakfast is from eight to nine, and classes start at a quarter after nine. My first class is Muggle Studies, but now I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hermione sat next to Harry and Harry tipped his cup over in a tired motion to make room for her. How suave. I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and dug in it for my Muggle Studies text, then scooted my plate half off the table to lay the book flat. Ron, sitting next to me, looked at the pages disinterestedly after smirking at Harry a while.

We ate in silence for a few minutes as I read about muggle "motion pictures" that don't really move, but just have lots of frames in a row going by really fast, when Draco Malfoy went past, his arm around a beaming Pansy Parkinson. Ron raised his eyebrows from Malfoy to Harry, and Harry looked up. Malfoy noticed him.

"What's wrong, Potter, never seen a girl before?" he asked loudly, then made a point of studying Hermione and me. "Well, I suppose not. Gryffindor doesn't exactly hold the record for looks, does it?"

Hermione blushed only slightly, but Harry gained his composure faster than she did. "Don't… don't insult Hermione like that." Well, okay, maybe there wasn't much composure to gain. I tried not to stare at him. Malfoy'd insulted me too, didn't he?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I was insulting Granger? You'll have to excuse me, how rude of me!" Malfoy said, with mock surprise. "Deepest regrets, Granger." He spat, his words dripping with fake sympathy. Hermione carefully ignored him. I tried to not show the hurt on my face, but then Harry suddenly put his arm around Hermione. Both Ron and I gaped. The seal of ignorance over the trio snapped. Malfoy smirked, watching this scene, his arm still holding Pansy like a bad actor held his one forgotten prop.

I knew Harry had liked Hermione, but he had to have known I liked him too, right? Was he that inconsiderate?

"I'm done…," I whispered, placing my hand on Ron's shoulder as I tried to get up. "… Eating. I'm done." My plate tumbled and my greasy eggs landed on my black robes. I bit my lip and my face heated up as I snatched my book and ignored the eggs. This was happening too fast. I took a deep breath, hoping it was over, then turned and ran into Malfoy. Actually, I ran into Malfoy's prefect badge. He stared down at me and I would have glared up at him, but it's hard to glare when your crush is as good as going out with your friend, you have eggs all down your front, and your nose has just been stamped with a huge "P." I sighed and just stood there, my forehead against Malfoy's chest. He stared down at me and didn't do anything for a while, then backed away. Sensing enough room to go by, I did. I passed right past Emily and Matilda. They stopped but I waved them on as I made my way back up to the dormitory.


I'd already taken a shower that day, and class started in half an hour, but I really needed to calm down, so I took my fluffiest towel and went down into the girls' bathroom, off the side of the common room.

I turned it as hot as it would go and stepped in. At Hogwarts, the showers can go surprisingly, scathingly hot, and that's exactly what I needed at the moment. I watched my skin turn red from the heat, my hair nearly matching it, and thought. I hated it when I got so emotional, but I always did. I always ended up crying, or sometimes making someone else cry, and then I'd get totally pissed at myself and make myself cry more. I shouldn't be so emotional, especially in my situation. I mean, I'm the youngest, and the only girl, in a family of seven. I'm treated like I'm explosive, just a poor little girl, and I hate it— but then I give them reason to think that by acting just like it. I'm horrible.

After a while, when my skin feels ready to melt off of me, I turn the shower off and snuggle inside the towel. The walk back to the dormitory is torturously cold after leaving the warm, humid bathroom, and I snuggle inside the towel on my bed for a while to warm up before dressing and wrapping a smaller towel around my hair like a turban.

Feeling a bit better, I got up and looked at the clock, then sighed angrily. Muggle Studies had started already. I really didn't feel like going.

As I brushed my hair out, I looked for another set of robes, but the dirty laundry had been picked up and I didn't have as many clothes as the other girls. I grabbed a spare pair of Matilda's and put them on over my sweatervest and skirt. After the curling charms were applied and the hair was combed, I sighed and grabbed my bag again, starting down the stairs for the second time that day. Transfiguration was next… If I took my time, I'd be there just about when Matilda, Emily, Colin, Peter, and the others arrived.


The whole way there, I still wasn't able to get my overreaction out of my head, and then I mentally kicked myself because now I was overreacting about my overreaction. This is how it is to be a woman, I suppose.

I was still a little early arriving at McGonagall's classroom. I stood next to the door and leaned on the wall, trying not to think at all anymore.

I don't know if it was the lack of thinking or what, but that class was taking an awfully long time to get out. I wasn't sure what time it was, but I was really getting impatient after a few minutes of waiting for them. I sighed and went closer to the door, getting up on my tiptoes to try to see through the window near the top of the door. Before I could get a clear view, the door slammed open. I went flying.

"Damnit!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the hall.

"Oh, for godssake— Aw, it's little Weasley."

I recognized the voice immediately. "Damn you, Malfoy."

"Clever, clever little Weasley."

Pushing my hair out of the way, I looked up and glared at him. He was smiling smugly. Suddenly, I got an idea.

"Draco…" I pronounced carefully, studying him and wondering just how crazy I was.

He cocked an eyebrow at the use of his first name. "What?" he snapped.

I stood up carefully. My eyes were level with his shoulders. Looking him up and down, I took a deep breath. "Draco, will you be my boyfriend?"

Both of us just stood there and stared at each other as the rest of the class filtered out of the room. I don't think either of us expected me to say that. "Go on and leave. Pretty Potter must've rotted your brain. You're mental, Weasley."

"I'm not."

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. I'd killed his poise with my challenge. "I… I'm going with Pansy."

"Fuck Pansy." I answered quickly.

"Wait until tonight." He said automatically. He was set on default smart-arse.

I paused, then, registering what he said, laughed in spite of myself. "No, I'm serious. I'm very serious. Come here." I dragged him out of the way of the crowd of Slytherins loitering in the hall. "Think of it, Malfoy. You don't like Harry, or my brother, do you?"

"I don't like Gryffindors in general, Weasley."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But… well, I'm frankly sick of it."

"Because Potter loves the Mudblood."

He'd killed my poise. "Er… I… guess." … Dear God, he was right.

He nodded. I shook my head and thought about how to continue.

"Well… how could we piss them off, Malfoy? What would make them – all of them – more mad then anything else?"

His eyes narrowed, but he smirked at me. "That's actually sort of cunning."

"So you get it, then? Deal?" I smiled back, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Deal... but you're fucking mental." He held out a hand, but I didn't take it. I looked around, then back at him, with the flirtiest smile I could manage. Some Slytherins were watching us talk.

I stood on tiptoes again, turned my face up, and kissed him. Jesus was I self-conscious. How fast that feeling melts when you're with a brilliant actor such as he.

He froze for a second, then, laughing into my lips, let me kiss him, putting his hand on my waist. He gripped it comfortably, and I was thinking that it really wasn't all that bad, but then I pulled back. "Bye, Draco," I said loudly, as sweet as I could, then went into the classroom.


This is redone from a story I did when I was 14. I'm now 16 and I haven't made a lot of changes; just cut out the obviously stupid parts. Please review, but do so before you read the next few chapters, which suck a lot worse and make little sense.