AN: This is a random oneshot I created, its my first fluff piece so yeah... Oh and sadly I don't own Harry Potter.
Whatever it was, it was about Potter.
For her it was a masochistic revenge, she couldn't have Potter, she would have his enemy.
For him it was jealousy, he wanted what Potter had or better, what Potter wanted.
He had noticed himself, and chastised himself for it, noticing her. At breakfast he would watch, with a small smile playing at his lips, as she twirled her auburn hair around her wand.
She was feeling pretty lonely. Yes, she had the attention of some guys, cute guys with easy, boring lives. But they were so simple, they smothered her with boredom.
He found himself looking for her, in the corridor he watched for her, wanting only to catch a glimpse.
One morning he did not come down to breakfast, she was surprised that she noticed. She sensed the emptiness before she saw it, his vacant seat.
The night when they spoke was warm and crisp. The leaves were changing colour and the wind was making them dance. Ginny walked through a corridor on the third floor, one that faced the forbidden forest. She paused in the torchlight to watch the tall trees sway.
"Nature's dancefloor" she muttered softly to herself, she presumed she was alone. Looking down the corridor she was startled to see Malfoy, leaning against a parapet, watching her. There was a shocked silence for two heartbeats. Shock at being watched, shock at getting caught.
"Weasley" Draco stated his eyebrow raising, the confidence dripping from his tongue. His prefects badge caught the light, shining proof he was allowed to be here. Her on the other hand...
"Malfoy" She cocked her head, trying to exude the same confidence. She had resigned herself to the inevitable punishment that came with being caught out of bed.
But it didn't come.
"You'd better get back to your dorm." He shocked himself and her. The colour rose in her cheeks, and confusion made her freckled nose wrinkle. But she didn't question, a small baffled smile twitched on her lips as she brushed past him. She left only the sweet but citrusy scent of her perfume, a smell silhouet. He breathed her in and walked on down the corridor.
The next morning she was bristling with annoyance. Thoughts of the previous night had kept her from sleeping. Why had he not done anything? Did he think she wasn't worthy? Worthy of what, she did not know. She was struck with baffled indignation. How dare he?
She planned to confront him, show him she could take it, she was just as strong anyone else. She waited to catch him, at breakfast. But he was not there.
Faced with his vacancy her annoyance was muted, a tiny hint of worry gnawed at her mind. Where was he?
She went the whole day without seeing him, not that she was looking for him, she told herself.
He tried his best not to run into her that day. She would no doubt want an explanation for his kindness. She could never take things at face value, that infuriated him, but only a little.
In his quest for avoidance he stumbled upon an uncomfortable truth; he didn't like not seeing her. His calculating mind didn't know what to make of that.
His heart stopped, as her hair breezed past him. But the smell was rough, masculine and messy. Her idiot brother and her beloved Potter. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his wand.
Deciding against all out assault he barged past the duo, shoving them with as much contempt as he could muster. But it was hollow, his hate was laced with jealousy. He wanted, he needed, what they had.
The next day was better, they did not speak, shared one look; a quick, cautious one. The day after was better still, they brushed past in the corridor. Her breath grazed his face, the citron scent lingered in his conscious.
Over a week went by without another encounter, the occasional glance became more habitual. Once he almost smiled at her, caught himself in the act, covered it with a cough. She had smirked. Had he really just almost smiled at her?
He had watched her play Quidditch, watched her as she swept gracefully through the air. The light drizzle and soft light made her look mystical, the wind whipped her off in a beautiful dance. He was mesmerised.
She was distracted, he was watching. She could feel his gaze, she felt it burn like a searchlight. It was ivory, soft and brilliant white. She had never been looked at like that before.
She could not stay at the Victory party for long, Ravenclaw were not at their best. Nor was she. She slipped away, couldn't watch Potter be saintly for much longer.
Her feet took her, down the steps, into the rain-fresh open air. She stood, totally alone in the center of a damp courtyard, breathed in the earthy licorice scent. Licorice?
She turned, already knowing who was there. She could feel his gaze on her, it felt like charged moonlight. Her eyes locked his, they were stuck. Hooked, his eyes were more clear than Potter's, more real.
Her feet took her forward. He cautiously stepped, he was close enough to feel her breath catch in her throat. Her smell danced in his senses.
"I saw you fly." He let the words slip out, they hung in the air between them. He regretted it immediately.
"I know." Her voice was soft, his eyes had not yet faltered, they had not left hers. She smiled, a small, shy, peaceful smile.
Their lips met, her lips were still caught in a smile. Moonbeams danced on his tongue, blissful white noise infected her head.
This was no longer just about Potter...
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