A mistake. That's what tonight was. Batting pink, heart-shaped confetti out of her eyes, Ginny scanned the crowded, sweaty mass of people on the dance floor, looking for that familiar flash of untamable sandy hair. If only she could find Hermione and get out of this miserable, gaudy club...
Having no luck, Ginny pulled her mobile out of her pocket. Hermione was still proud of herself for convincing her magical friends to use something as high-tech as a cell phone, but even they saw the merits of having a method of communication more instantaneous than sending letters by owl. A little too instantaneous, as anyone who was on the receiving end of Arthur Weasley's excessive 200+ texts per day would attest.
"Going home," she typed. "Don't hate me!"
With a sigh, she pressed SEND. Leave it to Hermione to convince Ginny to leave the comfortable night in she'd been looking forward to all week in favor of a muggle club with her, Ron, and a blind date. On Valentine's Day, no less. Only now, said date was passed out on a low, modular black leather couch with his arms slung around two giggling blondes.
Stepping out of the pulsating, cloyingly adorned atmosphere, Ginny paused on the curb to take a deep and cleansing breath. The air was bracingly cold and tickled her nose with the scent of imminent snowfall. Picturing the cozy flat she shared with Hermione, Ginny thought that perhaps the night wasn't a total loss after all. The (magically) enormous red-brick fireplace, the threadbare overstuffed armchair, a steaming mug of chamomile tea, and a new edition of Quidditch Weekly awaited her.
Ginny's dismay slowly dissipated at the thought of this comfortable scene. Too tired to disapparate (and, let's be honest, perhaps having had one too many glasses of champagne to calm her nerves) she scanned the crowded street for a vacant taxi. It was a busy night, and there were already a handful of people jostling for the attention of the next cab. These people, Ginny noticed, were going home in pairs after what she could only assume was a more successful Valentine's evening than hers had been.
Spotting a free cab, Ginny hurriedly stepped off the curb and thrust her arm into the air. The driver seemed to have seen her, since he pulled up in front of her.
"All those years raising your hand first in class finally paying off for you, Weaselette?" a familiar voiced drawled from behind her. Without looking, she knew the owner of that voice would be wearing a smug, self-satisfied smirk.
She turned. She was right.
Draco Malfoy's folded arms and haughty expression were no different than she remembered from the last time she'd seen him at school, all those years ago. However, something was different...something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Ah, there it was. The immaculate, gray suit. Undoubtedly designer, undoubtedly perfectly tailored, undoubtedly worth more than her rent. Ginny had never before seen Draco in Muggle attire, and his clear mastery was slightly disconcerting.
Although usually quick-witted, Ginny's shock at seeing her old school enemy chased away any coherent thoughts.
"What? I thought you- Why are you-" she spluttered.
"Charming, as always," Draco cooly cut her off.
The suit didn't matter, Ginny thought, Malfoy was clearly the same insufferable, self-important git bent on reminding her of her inferiority.
At that moment the taxi driver leaned out his window. "You getting in?" he asked gruffly. "Got plenty of paying couples waiting if not."
Ginny opened her mouth for a scathing goodbye to Malfoy (which, truth be told, she was having trouble coming up with at the moment) but the tall blond shocked her by reaching over and pulling open the bright yellow door.
"After you," he stated with the charm that Ginny could only imagine he learned in a class for uppity purebreds.
After a moment of hesitation, Ginny slid onto the worn leather seat. That chamomile tea wasn't going to brew itself, after all. If she had known Malfoy was going to cram in after her, however, she might have chosen differently.
"What are you doing? If you think you can charm me after all those years of being horrible just because it's Valentine's -"
She was cut off at the sight of him withdrawing his wand from his breast pocket. Before he could blink, Ginny had cast a silent Muffliato towards the driver and her wand was shoved into his throat. Her reflexes had been honed by years of war and a career playing quidditch, after all.
For his part, Malfoy did an impressive job of not appearing scared in the slightest. Perhaps years of spying on the darkest wizard of all time made the fiery redhead seem like an easy adversary. Ginny thought that perhaps he should recall her infamous bat-bogey hex before making those kinds of assumptions.
His slate grey eyes lazily slid over the petite girl next to him. "Take it easy, Weaselette. Wouldn't want to kill me and get blood on that gaudy dress of yours now would you? What are those, sequins? I know you grew up in a hovel but that's bad even for you. I approve of the length though."
Ginny twisted her wand even deeper into his throat as he let out a low whistle at her milky uncovered legs.
"Let me breathe would you? I promise I wasn't going to hurt you." Malfoy coughed out as best he could.
"It'd serve you right," Ginny muttered under her breath. Nevertheless, she hesitantly extracted her wand from the blond's internal organs. "What were you getting your wand out for anyway?"
"This," Malfoy said as he twisted his wand in an intricate flourish. A single rose fell into his open palm. "For you."
Ginny just gaped.
"It's a flower, Weaselette. You know? Those things that grow outside? With sunlight and water and all that?"
Ginny didn't move.
"It won't eat you." A beat of silence. "I haven't mastered that charm yet."
Against her better judgement, Ginny hesitantly stretched out a nervous hand. If there was any funny business, she would make sure it would be the last thing that ferret ever did. Yet her fingers closed around the thorny stem without any nasty electric shocks, dark curses, or boils.
Malfoy raised a single eyebrow. "Never thought Quidditch International's Chaser of the Year would be afraid of a flower."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Never thought the King of Slytherin would be able to touch something so innocent without it wilting immediately."
Malfoy smirked. "Never liked the name King of Slytherin. Too presumptuous. You can just call me 'Oh Great One' if you'd like."
The corner of Ginny's mouth quirked up in spite of herself. Git that he was, she'd never heard him mock himself before. She found it rather suited him.
"Do my ears deceive me? Did Mr. Angsty-Brooding-Silence just make a joke?"
With a screech of tires and the smell of burning rubber, the impatient taxi driver pulled to the curb. Glancing out her smudged window, Ginny made out the unassuming brown brick of her apartment complex. Funny that she should feel just the smallest twinge of regret to be leaving the ferret.
As she pushed open the door and swung her legs out the door, Malfoy reached out and stopped her. Odd that she should feel a small flutter in her stomach at his hand on her bare arm.
"I'm not sure if you know how taxis work but you typically get out after you get to your destination -" she threw over her shoulder with smirk.
Wordlessly Malfoy tapped his wand against his palm. When he pulled it away, there sat a small pink object. Peering closer, Ginny saw that it was a candy heart, the kind muggle schoolchildren give each other. Strange.
He pressed the small sweet into her palm, then shoved her out of the taxi in a tumbling heap of limbs, flaming red hair, and brilliant gold sequins.
"Get a move on, My Greatness doesn't have all night to wait around for the Weasley girl to quit swooning!" Though his tone was mocking, Ginny saw a hint of friendly humor in his fathomless grey eyes.
Too surprised to say anything, Ginny watched him pull the door shut as the yellow cab bounced away from the curb. Her eyes followed it until it turned the corner, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.
Climbing the steps to her flat, Ginny remembered the small pink candy still clenched in her palm.
3 BRMSTX
The Three Broomsticks? She turned it over.
FRI 8PM
Smiling to herself, Ginny slowly let herself into the flat. Shaking a stray red confetti heart out of her hair, she settled into that blessed armchair and picked up Quidditch Weekly. Maybe this night wasn't such a mistake after all.