Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers, and possibly a few others I've forgotten. No harm is intended, no profit is being made. This little story is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Note: I'm clearing out the vault a little bit. I wrote this one a while back for a 500 word drabble challenge at Third Floor Corridor. When I pulled it out of the vault, I edited it up a little, thus knocking it a bit past that original word limit. Enjoy!

Rubbish

Ginny threw down her pencil in frustration. Dean glanced over her shoulder and made a slight noise in his throat.

"I told you I'm rubbish at drawing," she accused him.

Dean patted her arm and Ginny glared at him over her shoulder. He looked abashed and stuttered, "Er…well, yes. Oh, I mean," he added at once after seeing Ginny's eyes narrow in a dangerous way, "it isn't bad. Quite good actually. I really like the way you've captured Crookshanks."

Ginny pulled away from Dean and whirled in her seat. "That isn't Crookshanks," she hissed, "that's Arnold."

"Your Pygmy Puff?" Dean asked, looking again at the sketch. He cleared his throat and said after an uncomfortable moment of silence, "Oh, yes. Very well done."

Ginny shoved the sketch aside and covered it with a stack of books. "I need to do my Potions essay; do you mind?" she asked coolly.

Dean flushed and frowned at the obvious dismissal. "Er, okay," he said, confusion and a bit of hurt coloring his voice. He gathered up his pencils and retreated to the window seat.

For a moment, Ginny felt a pang of guilt. Dean had only wanted to share one of his passions with her. She'd insisted, though, that she couldn't draw, and he dismissed her protests with a wave. There was no real need for her to be so testy with him, but then she thought about the embarrassed look on his face when he saw her completed sketch, and she felt very foolish.

She slammed open her Potions book and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment. That look on his face rankled her. She knew he was a brilliant artist, but that didn't make him any better than her as a person. Yet, she began to wonder if maybe he thought she wasn't good enough for him.

Ginny grimaced and focused on the Potions text, and tried to put the matter behind her. So engrossed was she that Harry had to clear his throat twice to get her attention.

"Sorry, Harry. What?"

"May I join you?" he asked in a rather formal tone.

She looked at him, more than a little confused by his tone. He motioned to the table and Ginny smiled in genuine delight.

"Of course, Harry," she replied, moving the pile of books aside. The sketch of Arnold stuck to the bottom of the stack and fluttered free, landing on the table.

Harry reached out and picked it up before Ginny even registered what was happening.

"Oh, Harry, don't!" Ginny protested, trying to grab the drawing out of his hand.

"Did you do this?" he asked, raising his eyes over the top of the parchment.

Ginny froze, mid-reach, and felt herself begin to blush madly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Please, I was just –"

"This is great!" Harry exclaimed. "It looks just like Arnold."

Ginny stared in confusion for a moment, and then ducked her head, feeling herself blush for a different reason. "Thanks, Harry," she smiled, looking up.

"You're really talented," he said, handing her the parchment.

She tucked it into her book, still smiling.

Maybe not rubbish, after all.