Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters.
Warnings und Cetera : Slytherin Ginny AU, Hogwarts Era, ratings will waver.
.
prologue
Trust was never a word that could come easily to her.
Growing up nearly suffocating in a home where she could barely get an hour to herself alone, secrets would never even try to be kept. She never would've thought she'd be blessed with the solitude of a warm summer night; but right then, during the last weekend of June, draped in a heated cloak with the tip of her toes dangling into the deep, cool water of the great lake – hands held by two contrasting larger ones, she could only squeeze back in reassurance.
The girl brought herself away from the grip. Her flaming crimson hair shone closer to gentle violet during the evening moonlight. She stuck her little finger out, spreading out a grin and whispering a promise underneath the night sky.
Maybe she couldn't bring herself to trust years before – but now, maybe, she wasn't so sure.
.
Five nights later she found herself spread across his bed while the blond scrambled across the room, throwing needed necessities into a bag and hissing every now and then between gasps of air. He didn't hesitate to grab hold of her arm and heave the girl to her feet, wand already drawn at the ready. A crackle of lightning and the grumble of a storm reached beyond the distance, but almost all she could hear was the quiet ticking of time.
"We're leaving. Now."
Their black-haired companion looked bewildered in the doorway with his own trunk lying at his feet and entire form trembling,, dust over his hair and cheeks matted in blood, skin no longer similar to that perfect golden complexion and seeming more pale than any summers' lack of sun was worth; that didn't keep him from following suit, holding onto the other half of her body to support the weight.
"No time to explain– go, we've got to go.. Gin?"
She broke her gaze away from the grandfather clock. Her body stiffened at the mention of her name and she managed only one last lingering look outside the window, through the rain and the clouds, catching sight over a flare of green bursting through the twilight sky before the witch turned away with her own wand shaking in her palms. "Yeah– sorry, let's get a move on."
.
draco dormiens nunquam titillandus
.
.
.
.
.
Wafts of warm steam emit into the air. The flesh of her cheeks heat up to a gentle crimson; a shade almost the same hue as the red locks that cascade below her waist and fall into perfect, unruly ginger curls. Absent fingers dig loosely into the cold metal of her trolley while twin pools of hazel flit around the entire scene as she tries to truly register it– everything – inside her head.
She could hear her mother droning on about the rules they oughtn't break and how her older brothers should keep a firm eye on her.
Promise to send an owl home every week, don't get up to any nonsense or stir anything worthy of being sent a howler, Ginny, make some friends, won't you dear–
More or less, she'd practically drowned out the entire speech and let it fall on deaf ears. Instead, the witch tried her best to contend herself from jumping off the platform.
It was finally here and she almost couldn't believe it.
All those months of having only that quixotic neighbour-girl by Ottery St. Catchpole drone on and on about the population of nifflers in England and how she's begun considering a new collection of flobberworms has finally come to an end. Not that she wasn't fond of Luna Lovegood, with her dreamy features of pale eyes and wispy blonde hair; while the girl might be struck as odd within first glance, she was very unique in her own way.
It just wasn't healthy for her to be the only girl Ginny's age she could talk to.
Hearing the train hoot and her father looking anxiously at his watch, Ginny took her time to scan her eyes across the sea of people, catching the familiar girl wave across at her from around fifteen feet away, and she threw a nervous smile back in greeting.
After years of pining for it to be her turn and watching her brothers grow ahead of her, one by one, she'll finally be able to step her feet onto Hogwarts grounds. She'll be able to experience what she's been waiting for so long, to feel pure magic pulse through her own veins – learn how to use it. Merlin, the mere thought of how she'll be able to control it.
The girl barely struggled underneath the weight of her mother's hug before crawling through the mass of students to make her way onto the train.
Barely four minutes in and she'd already lost sight of her brothers amongst the swarm and instead took it upon herself to lug her baggage along the carpet; escaping into the safety of the nearest quiet compartment. It wasn't until she took a moment to blink did she notice there were already another few people waiting inside – and, at the sight of greyish eyes and light flaxen locks, she almost exclaimed Luna's name in relief with the thought that she'd caught up and managed to grab an available compartment with someone she's well-acquainted with.
The excitement dimmed after a more curious look and she realised that it wasn't. Instead, a pale–faced boy decided to look up from his book at her entry and narrow his eyes, tilting his head from one side to another as if analysing her entire being.
Ginny recognised that he was halfway through reading The Oracle of Palombo by Bathilda Bagshot, and the cover was clean and new, much unlike her own copy – the pages were, however, bent at the edges, undeniably being went through over tens of times. this wasn't the first time he or by chance the previous owner of the book had read it. (She herself couldn't blame the poor state.. despite popular beliefs, it was an undeniably captivating book, one that she very nearly couldn't put down.)
She'd shifted from foot to foot, nervous underneath his gaze. "Do you – do you mind?"
The nervous pacing was for hope that'd he'd find a quicker answer under more frantic pressure. Ginny was an impatient witch whom found situations much more ideal when everyone were less negligent to spending wasted time. The clock was ticking and she knew by every second they spent waiting, she could very well be missing opportunities of finding available space. He'd be saving everyone the trouble by wrinkling his face and handing out an outright refusal.
The boy did not, however, do anything of the sort, and instead took another full minute to think it through. "No... hm," a flicker of hesitance, before nodding his head. "Not at all. Hullo."
He dropped the book to his lap, keeping a thumb between the pages while the young witch took to resting down the seat across him.
It was rather unsettling to be observed in such a way – she felt much like a murtlap inside a cage under this boy's pointed gaze and wanted nothing more to shy away from the attention.
There was a faint sound of a whistle in the distance.
An odd worry began to fill her when the train began moving and the platform rolled out of view, dreading the thought of suffering the entire trip being under constant scrutiny. So, when he opened his book, she almost jumped for joy– thinking the boy was going to dismiss her presence– but he only shut the compartment door with a lazy swing of his foot before putting all focus back on her. Ginny decided to narrow her eyes at him in return.
If this boy wanted to make the ride uncomfortable, then fine – she'll gladly return the favour.
When he sighed underneath his breath and ran a hand through sleeked back golden strands, she caught another sight of those familiar silver eyes and felt her blood run cold. Him – she knows him, she's seen him before although she can't really recall where.
Expecting a scowl or some bitter words, he instead stuck his hand out towards her and offered a lazy smirk.
"You're a first year, aren't you– haven't exactly seen you around before. Of course, if you aren't, you've probably heard of me– my name's Malfoy."
Her breath hitched.
Oh, Merlin, no.
It didn't take two seconds before she identified him from that outing in Diagon Alley, just a few weeks ago where she'd been finding her own books at Flourish and Blotts' – he didn't seem to recall her own self and she hoped it would keep that way.
Ginny didn't take his hand; merely gesturing a shaky nod of her head in acknowledgment.
"Right." The young wizard pulled his arm back, not at all appreciating the refusal of his gesture. His chin tilted towards the other boy in their compartment who had been uncannily quiet, fidgeting with the turner of a pocketwatch and barely paying them any attention. "This is Zabini. And that halfwit over there–" Malfoy scoffed underneath his breath when the door slid open and another body pushed through to settle inside, "–is Corner. Took your own sweet time to find us, didn't you?"
Michael Corner didn't seem pleased at the greeting, settling with a thump on the cushions beside her.
Ginny shifted to her right to make room – although more for the selfish reasons of wanting to accommodate her own personal inches of space away from the newcomer. "My apologies, I wasn't aware that you had missed my presence.. if I had known, Malfoy, I definitely would've tried harder to sate your desires."
"I see that time away from me didn't do you any good in learning to watch your mouth."
It didn't take long before a smug smirk appeared on Corner's lips either, but it faltered just slightly when he noticed the presence of a younger witch sitting beside him.
"Oh. Hello there, have I seen you before?"
"No – she's a first year."
"Very interesting bit of information you've got right there, really – but see, last time I checked, I was asking her and not you."
While the exchange was harsh, neither wizards seemed to hold cold blood towards the other and merely waved a dismissal air at the conversation.
Malfoy leant against the cold window and resumed that long gaze he held before. Ginny took the silence as an opportunity to avoid eye contact and instead submerged in the moving scenery outside, shifting from brick walls, suburban muggle neighbourhoods that seemed more than fascinating and going straight to the loops of smooth grassy hills. The sky was a pale grey with clouds littered above and she couldn't help but compare it to–
"– what's your name, by the way?"
Bloody hell. She looked at the blond as if she were a deer on headlights – not at all understanding the newfound interest in her. Perhaps he just enjoyed the torture.. her expressions do hardly ever fail at being discreet.
Not that she'd actually give up her identity; or not to these blokes, atleast.
"Oh, eh–" The girl fought herself to answer. ".. Luna."
She's sure that Luna wouldn't mind too much if she were to go under her name. Not that the witch would ever find out. Probably.
"Surname?"
Corner cut in easily, crossing an ankle over the other as he sank deeper into the velvet seat. "Hold yourself down won't you? We've barely been in here half an hour and you're already questioning someone on their entire blood lineage."
"Well, of course a dirty half–blood like you wouldn't think too much on it, would you, Corner." An audible sigh, "I suppose mummy would be proud to hear you've followed down her footsteps and has been loitering about with mudbloods.. it was only a matter of time until her little boy decided to contaminate our world with more muggle filth. I'm only being cautious in making sure we're not sitting with the other sort when you're already bad enough."
Apparently Ron's stories about his foulness wasn't a fib. Ginny found herself wishing very much she could just jump off the express rather than suffer another minute underneath the thick air. Corner looked unaffected, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall without even the remnant of a scowl on his lips.
The exchange still didn't take any attention away from her, however;
Malfoy looked at her pointedly. Ginny cleared her throat and quirked a brow as if urging the boy to speak.
"So? Are you?"
"Well, yes..." She answered softly.
"That's good, then." A smirk of relief quirked his lips and Ginny felt an uneasy roll in her stomach. "Michael here isn't – doesn't pride on whatever little of magic blood he has, either. Although I can't exactly say I blame him," he ignored Corner's snort, "I'd be ashamed too if my own mother were to run off with a muggle; luckily for me, us Malfoys aren't the type to be enticed by non-magical grime."
She felt an irritation bubble in her throat and the nonchalance on the other boy's expression made her snap.
"Funny, that. I didn't think that magical grime was any different, but now that I've met you I can see that you're more than a bit foul for my tastes."
Ginny almost clamped a hand over her mouth. Before she could realise or even hold back, the words had already streamed from her lips.
The other occupants of the carriage didn't miss it either. The golden-skinned boy sitting quietly at the corner had stopped playing with his pocketwatch, instead having a look of dull surprise through heavily lidded thick dark lashes, and Michael Corner had gaped at her with something that seemed akin to pure amusement. Bewilderment didn't stop from colouring Malfoy's cheeks either and she held in a breath.
Well, she had never been one to turn down a fight, after all. "Again, of course, I can't be one to blame his mother either. If I were to be confined into wedding wizarding dirt like you, Merlin..."
When Malfoy narrowed his eyes again, she felt a smug little grin reach the corners of her mouth in return.
The girl nearly shrunk back when he contorted his expression into a low smirk.
"No– perhaps you've got a point there." He leaned a cheek on one of his palms, "Lu–na..."
She felt another uneasy churn in her middle at the way the name rolled off his tongue. Revolting– amused, almost taunting. An uncouth cold drawl that could make any name even with the most beautiful sound as if it were the most foul thing ever mentioned. Ginny was quite grateful she hadn't given her real name or she very well wouldn't be able to hear it the same way again.
Yet even through all of that she found herself only luring even more attention rather than lose it.
"You don't look like a Luna."
It was the quiet boy who had spoken up this time.
He had on a look of pure interest, though his voice held a strict sharpness, and she found that his brown eyes were very difficult to stare into (he was a very pretty boy to look at, had he not been so intimidating). Ginny almost had to cough to find words.
"Er... what?" She choked out.
"A Luna. You don't look like a Luna– more like..." He fussed his brows together. "An Elizabeth."
"She looks like a Luna to me." Michael cut in.
Not that she was a Luna.
"No – well, she could be a Luna.. but I've met a witch called Luna before and she was much better suited to the name. Wispy, moon-like, a bit more odd in the air really. This one just seems more like an Elizabeth.."
"Well, either way, I think you've got a very pretty name, Luna." He leant back in his seat with an air of finality and she was relieved to have one pair of eyes off her. The wizard continued, though, still addressing her; "– Don't mind Blaise, he's rather off in the head." Zabini hardly seemed offended. "So, what house do you expect you'll be in?"
She didn't have to think twice about the answer. She knew Luna well enough; "Ravenclaw."
It was only an assumption rather than prediction although she couldn't imagine the witch to be in anything but. Yet Ginny herself couldn't guess what house she'd personally be sorted into. She might not make it into Ravenclaw, perhaps Gryffindor.. along with all her brothers...
A loud scoff escaped from Malfoy's lips. Had he not been victim to Michael's harsh glare, the boy was sure to have howled in laughter.
The young wizard blew a weary blonde strand off his cheek to fall back in line with his neat hair, "Well, you're good enough not to choose the other two; I'd already began doubting your head after you'd decided to speak out on.. your morales. I personally don't see why anybody would want to be sorted in anything but Slytherin, loyalty-wise, unless of course you're a dirty blood–"
"– or you just believe that snakes really just aren't the best people to hang around with." Ginny mimicked his drawl.
The compartment rolled into another silence.
She couldn't imagine why anybody would want to be in Slytherin, rather; the idea of being placed in the stereotype of a bunch of prats that's always got nearly ten wands stuck up their arse (courtesy of Fred and George) wasn't exactly her cup of tea. She'd rather avoid the scrutiny – let them all suffer in their pride as she's better off on her own. Then again, the witch had heard that some Professors did favour Slytherin above all others.. being the youngest of seven children, saying 'no' to favouritism wasn't listed in her biography.
Bright sunlight filtered into the room and blinded them all for a solid minute. The only retribution to silence was Zabini sneezing in the corner to mutter about allergies and how much he dislikes the sun. Nobody seemed to care enough to offer any more conversations and the book Malfoy had been reading earlier continued being left abandoned on his lap.
The velvet cushions of the train were much less comfortable than she had ever imagined it.
Carefully bringing herself up to her feet, she ignored the questioning gazes of the other three as she left the room and went down the corridor to find a different compartment. The relief was evident when she found the real Luna sitting with a small group of other first–years girls, two of them gushing about popular muggle novels and Gilderoy Lockhart.
She never bothered to glance back.
.
.
.
.
After leaving the Hogwarts express, the new students boarded boats along a deep lake. Ginny found herself accompanied by Luna, a small freckly boy, and a rather pompous girl who insisted everyone hear about her preference in travel via broomsticks rather than trains. it didn't take very long until she found herself within a long line of first–years in the great hall and an ocean of older students sitting along the large tables beside them.
She spotted the first two companions of her train–ride immediately;
Malfoy seemed amused when he caught sight of her, and his eyes narrowed as if almost daring her to trip on her robes or fall to her feet.
The other one, Zabini, had his back turned, but she could still see his fingers were fidgeting endlessly with that little pocketwatch from before.
She didn't try to find the third boy and instead directed all attention onto the sorting. It was nothing like how she'd been told it would be, from having her brothers hint about fighting dragons or having a seer sit you down and go through the entirety of your mind, reliving every moment from birth until you'd be covered in heavy sheets of sweat and struggle even to breathe.
Instead, she got to hear the hat form a song and the girl moved along, watching young witches and wizards alike be sorted into their respective house and hearing applause resound the hall.
Ginny found that the muggle–born with an odd muggle camera and the energy of an overfed leprechaun was an unexpected Gryffindor; followed with Luna, who had made indirect claims that she might be a Hufflepuff get sorted easily into Ravenclaw (when 'Lovegood, Luna' had been called up, both Zabini and Malfoy had directed their strongest attention onto the hat – only to falter with disappointment when they noticed it wasn't Ginny but instead a different student with golden tendrils and a more elegant physique).
She watched it pass, one by one, beginning from Bobbin to Reynolds.. Vane, until Weasley. She was the last one to be sorted.
The witch nearly stiffened when her name was called and she very nearly tripped on the small flight of stairs towards the hat. Ginny noticed a wild glint in Malfoy's eyes – trying to register the name, and when he was finished, looking very much betrayed.
At that, she couldn't help but feel a little smirk in triumph.
Her confidence wavered before she decided on holding up her chin above her chest.
There really wasn't anything to fear; careful feet padded across wood and the witch took a seat on the stool, ankles entwined and arms crossed. The Professor – Mcgonagall – lifted the hat above the red of her hair and an unearthly stillness followed. It was a slow descend and Ginny felt the impatient urge to grab both ends of the leather and tug it down to her head once and for all.
The wait was making her nervous.
She scanned the Gryffindors' table and saw three of her brothers looking up at her (Ron wasn't present, punctuality definitely wasn't first on his list). They possibly knew that she would be taking her place beside them in just a few mere seconds.
Not that she was really all too anxious. While she wasn't certain, she'd been reassured over tens of times by her mother before she came and only had to wait for the call: Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor.
"Slytherin!"
The witch almost raised her hands and clapped in due until she was struck with the realisation of who was sitting at the stool. Who was the one being sorted.
(or you just believe that snakes really just aren't the best people to hang around with,)
Her. Her. She was a snake.
A cold flow akin to a frozen river ran through her skin. Ginny almost choked on her own breath.
Lethal silence followed when the witch shakily got to her feet, trying to ignore all awry stares and long faces from her family; her ankles quaked and she felt as if she were about to collapse until she heard a single, slow clap coming from among the sea of heads. A certain Malfoy was wearing a smug, satisfied smirk as his palms joined together in an applause; not long after, the entirety of the great hall (starting from the Ravenclaws, she noticed) followed suit in polite ovation but it ended just as quickly as it came.
Her appearance shot almost immediately into a glower as she made her way towards the Slytherin table, ignoring streamers of dark emerald to plop down on the furthest edge of the bench, making vast distance from everyone else.
.
.
.
.
"Weasley."
No, no, no, no, no–
Ginny rounded the corner; head ducked underneath her robes.
Already a day has passed since the sorting and she hadn't yet made way towards the great hall for the first breakfast of term. After the feast last night, the witch was left watching woefully after the other students as they scattered towards their common rooms while she had to follow her respective prefects down into the darkening trenches of the castle. Ginny felt very disgraceful under the criticising gaze of Slytherin house (–lest the first years who hardly knew who she was, much less ever heard of her family name.)
The pavement was very cold underneath the witch's feet and she barely appreciated the contrast against the burrow's own carpeted ground.
Before any of the older Slytherins could do anything more than sneer at her, Ginny made the wise decision of digging deeper into the hearth of the Slytherin Dungeons, descending below cobblestone staircases until she'd found the first year girls' dormitories and found a familiar trunk already awaiting near the foot of a polished mahogany dresser. Ginny nearly cried in relief, collapsing onto a four–poster bed as viridian curtains drew around her.
Not that she could go to sleep that night, instead being forced to withstand soft giggles as exploding snap was heard around her. It was even worse than her own house at night.
At least Fred and George had courtesy to place silencing charms when it was near the dead of night.
She had to clasp some pillows over her ears and get up the next morning without so much as a blink of sleep.
"Weasley."
Of course, not that she would be able to sleep even if the entire castle was as quiet as Knockturn Alley in the late evening (though Ginny wouldn't know exactly how quiet that was either considering she's never been allowed to step foot into the place); Oh, and her family.. the witch dreaded meeting reactions of her elder brothers and she knew that by dressing up and going down to the hall today she'd very well condemning herself with absolutely nothing close to mere greetings, pleasantries and congratulations.
Ron would blow up, wouldn't he? The older boy hadn't been at the sorting the other night and she could only imagine the look on his face when she walks into the great hall donning green robes – that would've been amusing had it been under different circumstances.
Would Percy dock points from her for merely being sorted into another house?
"Weasley!"
Maybe her entire family will disown her.
Maybe she'll be sent to a nearby orphanage, with nothing to eat except stiff fillets every morning.
No, no, relax Ginny, you're being completely irrational – her own mother wouldn't do something so rash. She'd understand, wouldn't she? She'd have more faith in her own daughter? After all, it wasn't as if Ginny was the one who intended into Slytherin, she had been expecting Gryffindor just as much as everyone else. Although she had hoped for Ravenclaw; just her luck to be sorted into neither.
"Weas–"
"Oh – Malfoy!" She shrieked in a perfect snooty mimic of the wizard's tone. Ginny whipped around with brows quirked, arms tucked beneath her robes. "Were you intending to grab my attention or only the dragons in Norway – your voice wasn't barely loud enough for me to hear over all this noise."
His eyes scanned over the empty common room, quiet except for the crackling fire in the distance.
She'd cursed to Merlin underneath her breath; the young lady had waited until almost all sound left the dungeons and made sure that every student had filtered out before mustering enough bravery to slip into the Common Room. Her robes had been found beside her bed with an unmistakable dash of green and silver and she'd almost felt sick until pulling it on.
It was warm, that was that.
It didn't change the fact that Malfoy was still here, with an arrogant simper over his lips. "You're really a Weasley, hm..? An actual Weasley."
"Oh no, you must be horribly mistaken – and to think I thought you were bright, Malfoy. This is my other form, can't you tell I'm actually a Niffler?" Ginny responded with her own lilt of sarcasm, eyes scanning quickly over the expensive state of his robes. "You've best make a run for your gold too, don't you think? Could try to protect the only thing you have."
"Well, I'm not sure whether that was exactly the best thing to say Lu–na. It isn't the only thing I've got."
She barely wavered when he lazily dragged a hawthorn wand from his robes and held the tip towards her form.
His gaze wasn't even barely set on her. The corners of Ginny's lips attempted a frown. "You wouldn't actually try to curse me."
Malfoy didn't seem amused at her lack of reaction. "Are you sure about that, Weasley? For whatever else would I have my wand pointed at you, then, pray tell."
"I wouldn't know – maybe you've decided to give me a complete makeover. A few beauty charms here and there. Don't get me wrong, if you'd do it for me, I'll gladly return the favour – the gloss you use on your lips just aren't barely red enough."
The boy paused a solid moment before deeming himself satisfied of the response. He inched closer towards her, eyeing her lips and licking at his own subconsciously as if there really was a poor choice in his gloss (for a brief moment she wondered if he truly was wearing any), before looking up so an euphoria of silver could clash against twin pools of bright cognac.
Wanting to catch a moment off–guard, Ginny straightened her back in an odd burst of defiance; and then she stuck her palm out, towards him, just as he had done before.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced, have we? Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Ginny Weasley."
What she'd expected next was for someone to come out of the shadows and draw their wand, curse her, hex her to bits, maybe. The last thing she'd ever though would happen was to see a reflecting smirk on Malfoy's lips as he tucked his wand back into the safety of his robes and clapped his hands as if he were merely getting rid of dust. Malfoy then took her hand in his own. Shook it, acknowledging her with the arrogant quirk of an arched brow.
"The pleasure's all mine, Ginny." The cool drawl from his voice pulsed through her veins. He returned the courtesy: "Draco Malfoy."
Maybe she never should've given her name just like she had promised the other day.. but now, she found, hearing it drip down his tongue wasn't entirely too disagreeable. It didn't make her wish she'd never been born and maybe Draco Malfoy wouldn't be too bad of a company as long as she dealt with him in only very very small doses.
"You're far more pleasant than that brother of yours, I've got to admit."
"Thank Merlin." She attempted to accentuate with a roll of her eyes, "– although I can't say I particularly feel the same way about you."
Malfoy scoffed and pulled his lips into another smirk.
"I wasn't waiting on it."
"Right. So why are you still here?"
He mocked an offended look. "Oh, I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but this is the Slytherin common room, isn't it? The last time I checked, I belonged here.. though I'm not so sure about you," He noticed a small quiver in her figure at the mention and Malfoy managed another bored drone, "Hmm.. I see.. I suppose you'll just have to stick close to me then, won't you?"
"What?" The word left her lips so quickly it almost sounded like a harsh spit.
Ginny couldn't help but fuss her brows in disbelief. Had a snake just told her to stick close to them?
Malfoy didn't seem to notice her uncomfortable frown.
The older student was distracted with his own thoughts, tapping a polished hilt of his black shoes against the hard floor and eying the grandfather clock that was ticking almost far too rapidly in the corner beside the marble fireplace.
He gestured a lazy hand, taking a step backwards near the exit of the common room to signal Ginny closer. It wasn't until they'd completely left the confinements of the Slytherin dungeons, went through an airy corridor and went up a few spiral flights of marble did she notice him release a tense breath, striding closer towards the Hogwarts Stairways. Ginny paused when she remembered going onto these the other day and felt an uncomfortable dread settle right in the pits of her stomach when Malfoy didn't hesitate about jumping onto a step.
The Slytherin boy was nearly halfway through when he noticed she wasn't following.
Not wanting to be questioned on foolish fear, she swallowed hard on her own saliva to ease her parched throat before following, carefully tracing his steps (she didn't want to be like that one Hufflepuff boy that fell through and almost faded until she could see only the whites of his eyes before finally being pulled to safety) and stopping dead in her tracks when she realised she was about to follow Malfoy unconsciously into the great hall.
Right into the pit of death.
"No – hold on, why are you bringing me here?"
"Because nobody else will, now, would they?" The blond seemed very displeased. He was leaning beside the large wooden doors, waiting for her to go inside. "You're very rash. You thought that you'd be alone in the common room, didn't you?" His eyes flickered over her own, and a smug smirk reached his lips. "You don't seem to be getting along with anyone here. Was your first night in Slytherin not to your liking, Weasley?"
Ginny couldn't help but scowl.
".. well, I believe I did tell you that snakes aren't exactly the best people to hang around with."
Her voice was a low murmur in contrast to the loud chattering from the great hall and she felt herself much akin to being an actual shadow, shying away from the light. Despite that, candles were cast floating alongside the tables just like they were the other night, flickering flames even with the sunshine brightening through.
She noticed the Slytherin's lips thin into an uncanny straight line.
"Careful. You're one of those snakes yourself."
He didn't allow for any time to respond and moved past her like she did on the express. The boy walked into the great hall without much care in the world, strolling past a beefy boy at the table and finally finding a seat beside a second–year witch with beautiful golden strands floating behind her. Ginny couldn't help but frown to compose herself.
A step closer towards the door, and then two; it'd be alright.
Nobody would drop their plates at the sight of her, nor would she be hexed on her very first day. the entire room wouldn't still as if her mere presence stopped time and she won't have to expect a war to set out.
The young witch took another few timid prods of her feet before taking entrance into the Great Hall. The aroma of a warm meal immediately filled her nose and she felt it calm herself nearly as much as her own mother's cooking would. Ginny tried to ignore any connections with her elder brothers and made sure to avoid the Gryffindors' table when plopping down lightly on the bench at the end with the slytherins, trying not to seem too affected (her youngest brother had received a howler and she'd half expected her mother's voice to turn and screech about the outrageousness of her daughter with the letter's strongest might, but it promptly burst into flames without a single mention and the witch forced her gaze away, disheartened). A light tap on her shoulder brought her attention and she hoped to the lords it wasn't someone from her family.
It wasn't. It was that pretty black–haired boy in her compartment, and he was sitting beside her finally without a pocketwatch in hand; "You lied to me, Elizabeth. You've lied to us all."
Ginny piled some pudding onto her plate. "You have my humblest apologies, Timothy."
An entertained snort escaped him.
"Right." Thick eyelashes batted heavily against his cheeks, "You'll be needing practice. Ross would've been a better guess–" he cupped his cheek in one hand while his eyes drooped lazily, "You, on the other hand, could've made an easy Elizabeth."
The witch fussed her brows. "Ross, then? Ross Zabini."
"No. Although even if you were right, it isn't as if I'm obligated to tell you." Zabini shot down sharply, and the coldness urged a temper within her to flare. He lifted a hand towards the Gryffindors as if nothing had happened, a frown on his lips, "I'll be assuming those are your brothers."
She decided against being aggravated.
".. they're actually my pet puffskeins."
"Hmm.. thought so, what with the face of that one." Ginny turned around long enough to catch him shoot a nasty look towards her prefect sibling. "Stickler for authority and far too pompous for his own good."
When Percy caught her gaze and narrowed his eyes, she knew not to expect cordiality.
The witch didn't bother to defend anything, throwing a spoon from the table into a bowl of curds and whey. The force made milk from a goblet spill across the wood.
Ginny smiled bitterly. "I'm not exactly in his good books either."
.
.
.
.
The first class of the year was double Charms with the gryffindors and it wasn't until then did she realise the stigma of being sorted into slytherin. A house, that to most, wasn't ideal. She felt her wand shift temptingly in her robes (not that she knew how to properly use it) when the snooty gryffindor girl she sat with inside the train had decided to change colours and hurl direct insults underneath their breaths; but Ginny focused all her mind into writing down notes she hoped would be of use in the future.
Romilda Vane wasn't one to let up.
Though Ginny didn't react: there was this newfound interest in irritating arrogant snobs with original methods – that is, not caring.
She realised that the more she ignored romilda, the more agitated the gryffindor became.
Herbology was alright – hufflepuffs kept most to themselves with their soft giggles and gentle commentary; they were comfortable, warm and she found herself pondering over being sorted in the wrong house for over the fiftieth time today. The witch put a stop to her thoughts not long after, silently cursing herself for overthinking. It was only school, and only for seven years.. she could live through not going into a house she wanted to be in. It was merely a division for social construct and she knew no matter what she was sorted in, she'd still have to learn to accommodate with any critical opprobrium.
When they were allowed break, she'd took her time to explore the grounds.
A group of fifth–year gryffindor girls splashing their feet in the great lake gave a smile at her presence. Ginny managed a polite grin in return. She assumed they were almost about to invite her over to chat with them until they realised the green that dawned her robes. The girl didn't waste anybody's time in running away before matters could get any worse.
Potions in the afternoon with only first–year slytherins was vastly better and she found it much more interesting; she never understood ron's dislike of the subject, but she knew it required patience and strong intellect, whether abstract or concrete. not that she had made any concoctions yet nor tried her hand out at stirring a cauldron but she had a feeling she might enjoy it. When classes were all over (she saw Fred and George hanging about the corridors in between schedules but they didn't seem to notice her) and there was only an hour left until dinner, she made to the common room and the low chattering ceased at her entrance.
"She's survived an entire night and that's surprising enough–"
"Daphne reckons she'll still be here for the entire year.. as for me, I'm supposing that dinky Hag will barely last until the end of this week before she's run home crying to mummy and their entire blood–leeching family."
"Honestly, the least she could do is attempt to be satisfying in the eyes. I'd actually think her even just mildly pretty if it weren't for that disgusting mane of red dangling off her head – how do you think she goes to the bath with that thing tangling her ankles everywhere she goes? She hasn't bothered to tame it.. it'll probably get back at her one day and choke her to death if we end up lucky enough."
She stood, looking at the older housemates with an uneasy feel of guilt as if she'd interrupted something; adjusting her worn–down beige bookbag before turning head and leaving the dungeons as quickly as possible to make way back up the steps. After following a winding staircase made from marble and through an empty corridor that coloured with nothing more than the orange and purple hues of the sleeping sunset, she finally found herself able to breathe.
There was nobody here.
Nobody to judge her – to shoot her discriminating looks. Nobody to purposely ignore her and hope she was affected by it.
Her breathing evened out as her skin dowsed in gentle amber that began looking more and more like crimson by every passing second. It didn't take long to realise there was a mirroring trace of footsteps sounding behind her own.
Ginny spun around to notice Draco Malfoy gazing lazily through the windows just like she had, bottom lip tucked beneath his upper, not even bothering to hide the fact that he'd been following her.
The witch furrowed her brows into a frown. She wasn't in the mood for this...
"Sorry did you want something?" Ginny tapped the side of her leg impatiently.
Malfoy shrugged.
"Just wanted to make sure you don't get yourself into anything stupid... wouldn't want to lose house–points just because your family pride refuses the fact that you're not a beastly lion.. you'd probably get yourself involved in a stupid stunt like jumping off the astronomy tower just to prove your self–pronounced bravery and avoid harsh obloquy by the rest of them."
"You lack faith in me, Malfoy." Her attempt at a smirk proved futile when the only thing she could contort her face into was a scowl. "I wouldn't want to be like the rest of them."
As if on cue, a small duo of Hufflepuff students made their way down the same corridor to freeze instantly at the sight of them. It didn't take even a flobberworm's logic to realise the reason they turned away was because their eyes flickered over and met green.
Green, green, green, her tie, the hem of her robes, the dungeon walls, everything.
She tried to bite down any tears that rose to her eyes.
"Just leave me alone, alright? I can take care of myself – you won't lose any house points, promise."
"See, that'd be alright if you weren't stumbling right into the lion's den.." Malfoy didn't seem disbelieving, but he pointed out towards the curved staircase at the end of the hall. "The only place you'll be heading is up if you follow this hallway; is there a reason why you're heading towards the towers? That bloke is usually wandering around this time so unless you don't want to avoid having any pointless conversations.. oh, speak of the devil."
Just shortly after hearing the soft claps of an oxford against descending steps, a distracted second–year had strolled through the corridor, holding a book over his face. And, in lieu of running away like the previous students, he merely paid no heed to their ambience with an astonishing aura of cavalier detachment.
"Don't tell anybody about this.." Malfoy warned.
The slytherin wizard drew his wand out and whispered a murmur beneath his throat.
Ten inches of smooth hawthorn swished very lowly near the ground in the shape of a very deformed leaf while a wisp of silver shot out from the tip.
There wouldn't be a bigger fib than to say Ginny wasn't absolutely excited to see sorcery in front of her own two eyes– of course it was nothing new with growing up in a magical family where her entire home was built up on spells and enchantments and she'd be able to see her mother at work with her wand daily, her own brothers' lack of respect towards the regulations of underage wizardry, too– but after her whole class's failure this morning in casting a simple levitation charm, she felt her own confidence waver. Aside the teachers, nobody in their same room as her had even dared to attempt magic. The last time she herself had done was last year, when she accidentally set her mother's tea cosy on fire.
Although she had learned not to expect too much (the initial shock of the sorting has already begun to wear off – she never was one to cry over spilt milk) there was still that nagging curiosity.
The spell very nearly hit the other boy's ankle in a jet of bright light and the consequences would have been met had he not leapt away on time.
When he lowered his book and curled the corners of his mouth into a bemused smile, Ginny recognised him almost immediately. Michael Corner was calm just as he had been the other day on the Hogwarts Express and still held that warm tone in his dark eyes that contrasted vastly against Malfoy's coldly aloof grey ones.
"Tickling charm? Yes – very original." Part of the ground where the spell had been hit sizzled with red bubbling steam. "We can definitely see here that your aiming is on point."
"You flatter me, Corner."
"What can I say; I aim to please."
His eyes flickered over to notice the third person in the room.
"Oh, hello there, Luna." His smile didn't move the same way his glance wavered. "Slytherin, yes? What a waste, it'd have been a pleasure to have you in my own house like you'd said you'd be.. not that there isn't already one with us – we can afford not having another." Michael looked outside the window thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you're fond of long meaningful conversations on Nargles, are you?"
Her own gaze flickered towards the blue of his robes. Ginny pursed her lips. "You wouldn't tell her, would you?"
A minute of silence ticked by.
"Oh, He would–"
"– I wouldn't," Michael said sharply, throwing a rather nasty look at Malfoy for cutting in. "Or at the very least, I'll think about it. I'm not like Draco."
"As if that's a good thing." The blond looked beside himself with nonchalant glee.
When all was done with corner grimacing at the simmering floor that began smelling something akin to putrid sulfur and rotten eggs, he bid them adieu and turned down the hall, claiming something about how he must hurry on to the library to get the last of his studying done before they'd have to start on the first astronomy class tomorrow.
Malfoy had rescinded to the common room not long after; any claims of wanting to protect the house points from getting run out by keeping wary watch of her and any foul antics were lost when she turned into the girl's lavatory and he was forced to strand stricken outside the doorway, speechless. She'd stayed inside a cubicle for a good half hour before coming out to find the corridor empty without a single creature in sight.
.
.
.
.
Ginny had a bit of trouble on the way back and she (although she never would've thought she'd be) mourned the loss of Malfoy. No matter how much of his remarks and unneeded commentary unnerved her, he would've done a good map at the very least. All hope was not gone when a nice ravenclaw girl, prefect badge pinned perfectly to her robes, strode over whilst she was wandering near the owlery, asking if she was lost. The younger witch jumped at the opportunity of having an escort lead her down until they reached closer to the dungeons.
After much reassurances that she could get back on her own (the prefect couldn't lead her all the way as they weren't from the same house) both said their farewells and went opposite ways.
The common room was empty when Ginny wandered in; most of the older slytherins still had classes this late in the evening and only a small flame was lit in the fireplace.
It was freezing to the bone and there was the occasional drip of water running down the ceiling that filled her ears.
Wide windows revealed the interior of the great lake; where algae ran along the outer rim and exotic creatures she couldn't quite identify swam along corals and aquatic puffapods. A dim light from the water casts a calming sapphire and emerald euphoria across the chamber to bathe her in entrancing tranquility and it struck her then– from the creaking of walls, the occasional trickle of water and even to the low ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft crackle of the fire– how beautiful the Common Room truly was.
Portraits of well–reknown witches and wizards hung along the walls and they were all in strict postures, dignified countenance of stoic miens or even scowls over what could've been very handsome faces.
One of them glared at Ginny underneath crescent spectacles but she paid no heed.
It was quiet – and living eleven years at home, at somewhere like the burrow, even with most of her brothers gone at school or in different countries only for her to see their faces once or twice a year, it could never be like this. never this silent.
Never this peaceful.
And maybe, the foul reputation cast over her by the other students and the harsh glares she'll be sent every morning until evening was worth it.
Ginny let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
Her beige bag was torn off her shoulder and she threw it onto a nice sofa, body following suit; Ginny dug deeper through it to find her mother's old minaudière, ripping the seam open to pull out her books and settle them over the cushions. She might as well take advantage of time alone and read while she can. Merlin knows when she'll get the next opportunity for the dungeons to be this quiet ever again – it could very well come only once a year.
Her second–hand books were torn with age.
Yet she noticed the oldest book amongst the lot was one that hadn't been passed down to her;
A large leather–bound weight settled across her lap and the plainness of it drew most of her curiosity. Fingers running along the side tenderly, the witch pushed open to see tattered yellow pages, blank yet fragile from age. Perhaps it's another leftover textbook her brothers never used which her mother sought opportunity to slip into her trunk. Supposing she might as well just use it, Ginny had already brought out her inkwell and prepared to jot down her name onto the surface before anybody else could make any claims to the book (in case they decided to be foul) but halted just before the tip of her quill touched the paper. Right there, on the top of the first page, in faded lettering were the initials 'T.M Riddle'.
This couldn't belong to anybody she knows, right..?
The name was far from familiar, and there was absolutely no way anyone would find time to sneak it into her bag. The mere thought that a person would try was odd enough.
A drip fell from her quill before she could stop it, and a horrifying blotch of black ink scattered over the page.
"Bloody– oh, Merlin–" Ginny whispered foul things as she tried to wipe the smudge off before any damage became irreversible. The fire crackled loudly, gaining heat and she scowled, looking at the roaring flames as if it were guilty of taunting her.
Just as she was about to dab her robe's sleeves against the book however, the dark liquid faded and disappeared without a trace, revealing the same blank yellow page as before. Her brows fussed as she searched through the other pages, seeing no lasting effects of the little spill earlier.
Perhaps it's just like one of those objects charmed to repel mistakes...?
Dismissing the thought, Ginny strengthened her grip on the quill and wrote her name down on the paper.
Written rather messily in her own script was 'Ginny Weasley,' and she sighed at her handiwork– but it vanished just as quickly as the mistake earlier, swimming into an empty piece of white paper. Ginny just about hissed and decided to throw the worthless book in the fireplace when new writing appeared on the page, smooth and fine, replacing in the spot of her own.
Her heart pounded against her chest.
'That's a beautiful name.'
.
.
.
.
.
There really wasn't anybody more annoying than Draco Malfoy.
Her teeth gritted.
It seemed that the previous day with her stint of escaping into the loo wasn't working anymore – now he seemed to find pleasure in seeing her face every time she reemerged into the corridor to find him with arms crossed and a smug little grin playing on his lips. She wanted to smack the arrogance right off his head and throw it off the astronomy tower.
The day wasn't eventful to say the most; it was already the third of september and she hadn't gotten a single owl from her mother.
Perhaps her family really did disown her... yes, and they hadn't even bothered to notify her that she isn't to come home for the rest of her life.
The thought put her into immediate gloom. without finishing a mug of pumpkin juice and leaving her pudding untouched on her plate, she'd hurried to catch up with the classes in her schedule in order to distract herself from the negligence of her mother. No, maybe the woman was just preoccupied– what with the news of Ron crashing the Ford Anglia into an abnormally violent tree, other things she doesn't know about might be brewing up at home, she must give her parents some time. It's possible they don't even know she's in Slytherin.
And if they did, they might very well be planning to pull her out of school right this moment, far, far away from Malfoy.
She managed to lose him when she had double potions with the Gryffindors – Colin Creevey had scooted a bit to the right when she entered, offering something that looked vaguely like a smile and space beside him. She wasn't overly enthusiastic about having a leaping toadstool as a partner especially considering how Colin always seemed like he took seventeen pepper imps an hour, but she didn't want to contribute to any house feuds.
Ginny mumbled a thanks, throwing her bookbag near the foot of her chair and settling down.
She found out why Ron disliked the class not long after. Professor Snape was a towering man who demanded high reverence and was extremely bigoted to the point of extremity. he was far too bias towards his own house, something she couldn't fail to notice, and when she'd grown restless and decided to stretch her arms out, she hit Colin in the nose with her elbow until he toppled off his chair and half of the class could only gape in shock. Ginny hurried apologies to which her classmate squeaked an, "Oh, no – it's okay!"
Snape turned towards their table.
"Creevey." He snarled, "Ten points from Gryffindor. That should teach you to be quiet in my class.."
Afterwards didn't seem entirely pleasant either.
She ran into Romilda Vane afterwards in a small group of other first–year gryffindor girls; who was nibbling on a chocolate frog and not bothering to hide any contempt towards Ginny by harshly brushing shoulders when she tried to make her way over to the grounds. When she settled by a tree near the lake, the other witch followed suit, sitting closely by with her friends and acting as if she wasn't aware of Ginny's existence;
"I've earned fifteen points from Professor Flitwick the other day for answering most of his questions right.. of course, it's a pity that an ugly hag decided to pay us a visit and cause up trouble in Potions this evening or else we'd have easily been in the lead."
"A hag?" One of them repeated softly, a gasp escaping her throat. Noticing on second glance that she donned yellow underneath her robes, Ginny concluded she wasn't from the same house as the rest of them. "I've read about them–"
"–not an actual hag, Emma, although she does look an awful lot like one. I meant that Weasley girl..."
"Oh – her! Ginny Weasley, she's very pleasant." The girl sighed softly and leant back to watch the clouds. "That's not very nice to say, you know. She's very pretty, and has got beautiful hair too.. she smiled at me and passed over my gloves when I dropped it in the corridor on the way to Herbology yesterday."
Romilda squinted disapprovingly.
"Did you check what was in those gloves before you took it from her?"
"Well, no..."
The witch decided to ignore them from then on, wanting time well–spent on literature reading and the such. her bag was on the floor, books messily sprawled outside it. their conversation blurred out of her ears when a new presence stood beside her on the grounds, arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as if he were deciding on what to do now that he was here: possibly ways on how to terrorise her school life even more, yap about her freckly brother and that 'mudblood he hangs around with', maybe threaten her with his wand..
Instead of speaking immediately, he nudged a black book with his toe, lips curled in an odd disgust.
Malfoy didn't bother to hide any distaste. "What's this," he questioned disinterestedly.
She smacked his leg.
He didn't hop back in time, leaning against a branch of the tree on one foot with a scowl over his lips as Ginny seethed at him in return. The witch gathered the book protectively in her arms, "Don't touch my stuff with your dirty foot! And could you please stop following me? Why don't you find something more productive to do – like – like you know, bird–watching or something.."
"No." He promptly refused.
"Find that boy then – Corner."
Malfoy wrinkled his nose as if he were contemplating on the decision and she felt a surge of hope float through her that maybe he'd actually leave her to peace. It vanished when he fixed his own robes so it wouldn't crinkle when he sat down neatly onto the grass, eyes still focused carefully on the book as if at anytime it would just pop open and reveal all of her deepest secrets.
It didn't. It hardly moved.
He tried not to seem too disappointed. "He's holed up in the library – not that there's anything better for him to do. Would you mind not staring at me like that, by the way? It's very distasteful."
Ginny fussed her brows even further.
Deciding to abide for her own sake, she moved her gaze away from his scowl and went to stare at the lake, seeing ripples in the water and almost letting out a screech when an eerie, reddish tentacle peeped out from the stillness and bathed itself on the shore right beside her foot. She jumped to her feet and turned an unearthly shade of green, staring at Malfoy accusingly when he did nothing to move away from the tendril.
His glance flickered from between the girl and the 'odd, slimy thing' before breaking into an excited grin.
Perhaps this could be her weakness..?
Deciding to use the first name that came to his mind (she probably hadn't heard of it, anyway), Malfoy calmly shifted closer towards the tentacle. "Have you never seen a Lobalug before, Weasley?"
"A – a Lobalug?" Her unsureness brought a surge of pride through him that only faltered when she opened her mouth to speak again. "Well, of course not... they're only ever found in the North Sea, aren't they? They'd probably shrivel up if exposed to freshwater like this.."
The older wizard tried not to curse under his breath; she's done well in doing her research, he'll give her that.
Holding a hand up to halt her words, Malfoy blurted quickly, "Well, this is a different kind of Lobalug."
"It is?"
Ginny took a wary step back and paled when he grabbed the edge of her robes, looking up at her with an impish grin.
She wished she'd made a wiser decision of locking herself up in a lavatory or staying inside the girl's dormitory for the entire evening rather than trying to drowse most of her stress away in adventuring the grounds. Even being under Romilda Vane's lowly criticism and distasteful remarks were better than this and she mourned the thought that if she'd just strayed away from Draco Malfoy, she probably would've lived one more decent day.
Then again, his presence did make Romilda and her lot move a bit further away from her and lower the audacity of her complaints.. not that it aided much.
Maybe he'll save all the trouble and throw her into the water. That'd be more than preferred, she barely knows how to keep herself from drowning so there won't be too much of a struggle.
"Yes. And do you know what Lobalugs like, Weasley?" When she didn't bother to respond, his grin grew nearly to the size of ireland. that is – not very big, but acceptable enough. He didn't wait for an answer. "Devouring little girls. Yes, ickle little first–year girls who barely know what's good for them."
"There's plenty of them right over there."
Ginny pointed shakily to where Romilda Vane and her friends had sat, but the spot was empty. They had all quickly rushed and gone, perhaps having scattered back to the castle after hearing Malfoy's taunts.
"Oh no, there's only you now, isn't there?"
"There's you."
"I'm not a first–year."
"You almost could've fooled me."
All other words died in her throat when he didn't retort a vocal response, only grabbing the end of the tentacle and throwing it towards the girl so she'd let out a withering shriek. when the odd–like curl wriggled around her leg the witch was sure it would tug her body into the water and finish off the remains without allowing any bellows of last melodramatics into the world; but in surprise, it only untangled itself and slammed against the ground grumpily before rescinding back into the still lake.
Her palm was held against her chest, eyes wild and staring back and forth between the boy and the water, only to growl when she noticed he had her book back in his palms.
Snatching it out of his grasps before he could flip through the pages, Ginny stuffed the weight into in her bookbag and slipped the long, leather sling over her shoulder, turning suit to rush into the castle and leave him behind.
The wizard only followed.
"It was only a joke." His voice weakly insisted, footsteps hurrying quickly to catch up with her own.
"Oh, that's nice. And such a joke it was! Brilliant, really – you astound me. You've won. Could you leave, now?" She spun around, fire lit in her eyes and fingers grasped at the sides of her hips. "I'm tired of you."
"But it was only a joke!" His voice was very close to whining. "You'd know that if it was an actual Lobalug, I wouldn't have actually thrown it at you. Not that it'd attack you even if it were.. they mostly feed on the carcasses of their own kin.. to them, your meat is probably more poisonous than it's own venom..."
She didn't seem to be listening.
"I wouldn't try to hex you the other day either although you've already doubted that in the first place – mostly because I'd get in trouble if anyone found out, but–"
His line of excuses streamed on and on for what felt like a century and she found that her advances in running away from him was going absolutely nowhere. she'd been through the other end of the castle, went up a few winding staircases, survived down some slippery polished steps, gone through odd empty corridors and avoided areas where she could hear the loud school's poltergeist's shrills yet still she couldn't lose the attention of an irritating, twelve–year old boy.
Even her own brother wasn't as bad as this and that was saying something.
"Just go away!" Ginny snapped, her fingers sliding into her robes to pull out a lengthy line of yew, pointing it straight at his chest. "Go on – don't tempt me."
Malfoy didn't flinch. his bottom lip curled into a frown. "You don't even know how to use a wand."
She stuck her nose up; "I do."
"No, you don't." He nodded as if he was trying to convince himself. Something seemed to strike in his gaze, however.. "I could teach you."
The young lady scowled.
"You – teach me? Amusing.. I wouldn't want you to.. all I'd like is for you to go away."
"You should be grateful that I'm looking out for you, Weasley – you do know that if I leave you alone for even a minute, they'll come back." He drawled smoothly, leaning against a wall and watching as she lowered her wand, tucking it firmly in her robes after a bitter, silent admittance of her not knowing any proper magic. "That first–year girl and her other filthy little friends – they've got nothing better than looking after you.." his teeth jotted out to show a perfect, near-blinding grin, ".. s'only your third day and you've already got plenty of fans. You could rival Potter."
Looking out for her.
Even she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose this time. "What's it to you?"
"I'd say.." He seemed to seriously consider it a moment, before rolling his shoulders into a smooth shrug, dark robes clinging neatly around his body without a single wrinkle in sight. "Nothing, and in a way, everything; keeping you away from them, keeps you away from losing any house points and in turn we'll get to see the look of immense pleasure on Weasley's face everytime he sees his little sister walking around the grounds donning green robes."
".. so you've met my brother, have you?"
"Oh, yes. Best mates, we are.." He didn't bother to keep any sarcasm out of his voice before waving a dismissive hand. "Forget that, Weasley. Back to the subject, most wouldn't be able to live a day at Hogwarts without being in a group and Merlin knows how you've survived this long – soon enough they'll come teaming up on you unless you've found your own allies, and by the looks of it.."
Malfoy moved his eyes along the empty corridor as if mocking her lack of associates.
Although even if she didn't want to agree, what he said was true.. you couldn't just walk around your own while wallowing in the misery. the stigma was far too strong and she couldn't wander a minute through a filled hallway without receiving a snarl from Vane or any other student she'd somehow managed to gain the distaste of.
The other slytherin girls she shared a dormitory with had already paired up in their own circles to avoid chastisement and she figured she truly was the only one alone.
".. you'll be safe to hear that they'd hardly dare come closer to you with an older Slytherin involved. they're mostly like that, you know, gryffindors – all great and riled up to stand up for things until there's authority standing and they either suck up or cower back into their dens.. well, not all, but the ones that aren't are either filled with dirty blood, traitors, or thick in the head so they hardly matter.."
Ginny held a hand up to pause his rambling. She hardly wanted to hear him moan on and on.. it seemed that the only thing this boy could do was complain.
"What's this, then? You're offering to – er – help me?"
"Not exactly. Consider this a trade of equal benefits."
But she wondered what she had to lose. This was an opportunity, and he was likely to follow her around even if she refused. It was best that she made the most of it and used this boy to her advantage whether or not the health of her mentality were to deteriorate.
When he stretched his palm out towards her, she lifted her own carefully, a cool sweat threatening to break down her cheek as she matched careful gazes: indifferent cadet to a more controlled hazel. Her hand enfolded his in a firm shake and Malfoy leant back with his mouth turned to a prim, satisfied smile.
Her eyes seemed to flash a million hues of gold and she began questioning his motives over a thousand times before worrying on her own. Maybe this truly was what she needed.
"Purely selfish motives, then?"
"Purely selfish motives." he agreed.
.
.
.
.
UNBETA'd, written at three AM, filled with multiple writing errors and grammar mistakes.
If anyone catches one, feel free to point it out! I'd appreciate the notion very much.
This might be a tad bit OOC for liking but the plot will stretch out for more than seven years, moving darker and deeper as it progresses. The initial story won't really start out until they're in fifth–year (Ginny's fourth).
I'll be switching ratings from between T–to–M rated, as there won't be nothing more than mild as of now.