Disclaimer: I don't own anything! All characters pertained in this story belong to J.K. Rowling.

The Ruby Magic


Ginny Weasley woke up suddenly in middle of the night, her mind buzzing with thought. She could hear her heart thumping loudly through her body like a drum as she remembered the dream. It had felt so real that she could barely believe she had spent the entire night in the Gryffindor Common Room. The memory of the nightmare haunted her like a bittersweet song, replaying over and over in her mind.

She could remember it perfectly. The boy's dark sapphire eyes that seared into her soul, weakening her spirit. His smooth, silvery voice and his electrifying touch. Tom Riddle. Ginny would have been positive that he had visited her just now, had she not known better. Tom Riddle is gone, she told herself, wishing she could believe it. Tom has been gone for five years.

Ginny blinked, trying to rid her mind's eye of his cold face as he asked her for a favor. "I just need you to do one more thing for me, Ginny. I can count on you for one more favor, can't I?" And Ginny's dream self could do nothing but nod, spellbound. She hated the way she was so helpless around him.

Ginny had to wonder why she had dreamt of Tom tonight, after so many nights without him. Usually, she didn't think of him, but that dream had brought her Tom memories to surface. Now all she wanted to do was forget them and drift back to a peaceful slumber.

Ginny sighed. She knew that she could not go back to sleep--not with Tom waiting on the other side of consciousness, about to pounce. She checked the time: three o'clock in the morning.

The kitchens would just be opening and getting a chance to walk around for a bit would be the perfect remedy. Sliding out of bed, Ginny slipped on a pair of fuzzy slippers and a deep-green robe. Luckily, no one else in the Girls' Dormitory was awake, so Ginny could sneak out without any awkward confrontations. Good, Ginny thought as she crept out of the portrait hole. I don't want to run into anyone tonight except for kitchen elves. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ears and fled down the halls in search for the painting of ticklish fruit.


* * *

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy wasn't getting very much sleep, either. It was that damnable owl hooting and scratching at his window, begging to be let into his Head Boy dormitory. Draco had decided right away to ignore it--he was so comfortable snug in between the warm satin covers of his bed. He didn't want to give up his warmth for some stupid owl. But after fifteen minutes of trying to ignore its incessant hoots and scratches, Draco gave up trying to fall asleep. Reluctantly, he let his silk covers slide from his bare body.

Draco Malfoy slept in the nude. It was one of the many perks of being Head Boy and having his own private bedroom to do whatever he pleased in. His room was spacious and adorned in cool ebony and emerald colors. His favorite thing about the room was a model of a hissing serpent that hung over his bed, its eyes made of cut ruby. Draco had designed everything in the room himself, after being disgusted by its original red and orange décor. It was an elegant room, and the Slytherin girls loved it.

Sliding a black silk robe over his pale skin, Draco went over to his window and unlatched the hook that kept it closed.

"Are you going to come in or not?" He asked the owl. "You're letting all the cold in."

The owl hooted a reply as it swooped inside and perched on the mahogany bedpost. Draco recognized the regal owl as one from Malfoy Manor. It had brown rumpled feathers, and Draco could clearly see a folded black parchment tied around its leg.

Stifling a yawn, he freed the letter from around the owl's leg and watched as the owl immediately took off into the night. Draco closed the window after him.

The note was folded in half, and had Draco's name written in curling silver letters on the front. The handwriting couldn't be mistaken as anyone else's but Lucius Malfoy's. Draco wondered to himself, What does he want? He unfolded the letter and looked down at his father's neat scrawl.

Draco,

I hope immensely that you are keeping up in your studies. You best study hard; I do not want to hear that the mudblood Granger is doing better in her education than my own son. Don't disappoint me, Draco.

On a darker note, I must inform you that our alliance with families in the Ministry will play a major role in our future. If the Dark Lord is defeated, we will need all the support we can muster to keep out of Azkaban and still remain a powerful wizarding family. I remember when the Dark Lord was thought to be defeated seventeen years ago. It was my relationship, and my relationship alone, with the ministry that kept me out of a life-sentence in Azkaban. I'm counting on you, Draco, to stay on civilized terms with any students whose family is in the ministry. This means that you must cease your childish antics with the Weasleys, although I despise saying this. Not only do they have pureblood, but it has been rumored that Arthur may be applying for the job of Minister next year. It would be very stupid mistake to be on their bad side.

Play nice with all of the Weasleys, especially that unpleasant child, Ginny. As much as this may upset you, if the Dark Lord is overpowered, the Weasley girl may be the only pureblood girl your age whose family isn't locked up in Azkaban. We want to be on polite terms with all of them. I would rather see you marry a pureblood from a disgraceful family than some mudblood you picked up off the streets.

I hope that these are only precautions, but it is entirely plausible that our Dark Lord will not be victorious. In that circumstance, I will be counting on your help forming alliances with powerful ministry families.

Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy

Draco inhaled sharply. This is ludicrous, he thought angrily, tossing the letter on the ground with a flourish. There were so many things that deeply bothered him about that letter. First, his father had lost his faith in The Dark Lord. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he asked Draco to be friendly to a family who didn't deserve their pure blood, a family whose son, Ron, had been his adversary for almost seven years. It went against everything Draco was brought up to value. He had despised mudbloods, muggles and Weasleys all of his life, and to be told by his father to forget it allDraco just couldn't do it.

Picking up an long green quill and parchment, he composed a reply:

Father,

As much as I appreciate your concern, I am not willing to make amends with the Weasleys. I loathe each and every one in that family, and I cannot force myself to suddenly be pleasant with them.

I still have complete confidence in the Dark Lord and I see no reason whatsoever to take those unnecessary of yours if the Dark Lord is to triumph.

Your son,

Draco

Draco reread his letter several times before crumpling it up in his hands and tossing it at the green walls. Sending his father a letter wouldn't do any good--he knew that it wouldn't change his father's mind. When Lucius Malfoy had his mind made up no one could change it, not even his own son. It was best to give Lucius some time to simmer down and reevaluate the situation. Maybe he'd come to his senses and realize that Weasleys and Malfoys did not fraternize.

Suddenly, Draco's stomach growled like a wild tiger. He made a quick decision to visit the kitchens—he could get his mind off his father's letter. I need some peace and quiet, he thought as he ran a comb quickly through his sleek blonde hair and change into a smooth pair of black trousers. He threw on a matching shirt and a long black robe, he set out into the halls.

The Hogwarts halls were completely silent other than Draco's furtive footsteps. The portraits on the walls were silently dozing, and besides Draco, the only movement was the flicker of torchlight. Draco smirked. Perfect. There won't be anyone to hassle me tonight. If only he knew how wrong he was.

* * *

Ginny reached out a pale hand and gently tickled the squirming pear. Instantly the portrait swung open and she was inside the Hogwarts kitchens. Although it was the dead of night, torches were everywhere causing the room to glow as bright as day, and house elves were busy everywhere carrying heavy loads of food, washing dishes, and preparing the morning's breakfast. Suddenly, a group of elves noticed Ginny standing by the doorway and dropped what they were doing to rush over.

Miss Wheezy! Blinky is so pleased Miss came to the kitchens, said a house-elf with a huge nose like a tomato. Blinky was beginning to think that Miss no longer liked house-elf food!

Ginny smiled at the crowd of wide-eyed house-elves around her. Of course I like your food! Pleased murmurs resounded from the crowd as they led her inside, closing the portrait door behind her.

One elf stepped forward, almost tripping on his tea cozy. What is Miss Wheezy wanting?

Well, I'd like a ham sandwich if that isn't too much trouble—

Instantly a dozen sandwiches appeared on gold platters around Ginny, along with a tall glass of chilled pumpkin juice. Tentatively, she picked up one of the sandwiches and bit in. Flavors exploded into her mouth, tasting delicious. It was exactly what Ginny was in the mood for.

Thank you, I really appreciate it.

The house elves nodded, pleased. Then, suddenly, expressions suddenly grew timid and nervous as they stared at something just behind her, nudging each other and murmuring to themselves.

What's wro—

Ginny's sentence was cut off by an icy voice as smooth as syrup.

Well, well, well. If it isn't the little Weaslette.

Ginny's blood turned cold. She'd know whom that voice belonged to even in her sleep. She whipped around to come face-to-face with her least favorite person at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy. His blond hair was mussed as if he had just woken up, but he was fully dressed and looked completely alert with a smirk curling his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in her two-sizes-too-short pajamas.

Ginny hoped he wouldn't comment on them. What do you want, Malfoy?

Draco didn't miss a beat. I don't have to explain anything to you, Weasley. He smirked in such a way that would have made Salazar Slytherin proud. I'm Head Boy. I can do whatever I want. If anything, I should be taking points off from Gryffindor for your being up after hours. Or perhaps another sort of punishment would be moreappropriate. I have that sort of authority, you know. Draco leaned casually against the wall, his eyebrows arched, skeptically awaiting a reply.

You make me sick.

I aim to please.

Ginny shook her head, disgusted. There was only so much of Malfoy that she could handle, and usually the amount was very little, if anything.

A house-elf tugged at Ginny's robes, interrupting her thoughts.

Is Miss's friend wanting anything? It took a moment for Ginny to realize whom the elf was referring to. Malfoy? Oh, no, he's not my friend, actually—

Poached salmon and a side of pumpkin juice. Draco said smoothly, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

Ginny frowned at Draco. She had imagined him to be more of the caviar type.

The house elves scurried off, happy to have someone to serve, and a few seconds later returned with Draco's meal on a silver dish, the voluptuous aroma filling Ginny's nostrils.

Draco wordlessly took the dish in his hands, his expression emotionless. Ginny had a strong urge to say something shocking just to see some sentiment in that ghostly pale face of his. She wanted to see him act like an actual human being, someone who she could believe to be not entirely soulless

Instead, she picked up her sandwich and juice and sat down at the small wooden table. Much to Ginny's annoyance, Draco sat down also, luckily on the other side of the table

As Ginny wolfed down her sandwich she cast side-long glances at Malfoy. He was eating his meal delicately, strands of flaxen hair falling out of place. Abruptly, he raised his cold grey eyes to hers, staring unblinkingly. They seared through Ginny like an icy fire, electrifying her soulreminding her of Tom. No... It was if one innocent glance could hold her captive, could make her his prisoner. No. Ginny wondered if she could force herself to look away, even if she wanted to. A chill ran down her spine, but she still could not wrench her eyes from his. No! She felt as if they were glued to him.

Must you stare? Draco asked coldly, and the spell was broken. She quickly yanked her eyes away, a blush forming on the apples of her cheeks.

It isn't as if you weren't looking, either, Ginny said softly. Luckily, Draco chose to ignore her, sipping on the tall goblet in front of him.

Ginny didn't want to stick around for any longer. Having finished her midnight-snack, she didn't see the point in staying to chat with Malfoy. Her sleepiness was getting the better of her, and she needed rest for the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Tom Riddle isn't going to bother me tonight, she reassured herself.

Ginny stood up quickly and graciously thanked the house elves for her sandwich. Then, she left the kitchens speedily. Ginny didn't look back at Draco, but she could feel his intense gaze boring into her back, only residing when she entered the halls.

It was only when Ginny got back to the Gryffindor Common Room that she realized it was missing.

* * *

Draco Malfoy watched Ginny leave the kitchens. He couldn't believe how rude she had been to him, when he had tried his best to be as pleasant and well-mannered as possible for a Malfoy. There were so many snappy replies and insults that he had bit back for the girl—but did she appreciate his efforts to be kind? Did she appreciate that he had lost an opportunity to use a perfectly good retort? No! She was a penniless, rusty haired Weasley brat who couldn't even be grateful for Draco's efforts to be kind. Draco sighed.

A gleam of light from the chair that Ginny had been sitting in attracted his eye. Draco glanced down and then inwardly gasped, although on the surface he knew that he looked calm, a trick he learned from his father. There was somethingdraped on the wood chairsomething that glowed as if it were a miniature bonfire.


Where did that come from?

With long, delicate fingers, he carefully reached out and lifted the item up for further inspection. What he saw caused Draco to gasp out-loud, ignoring the several house elves who were looking curiously at the object in Draco's hand.

It was a necklace with a broken clasp, but it was unlike any other necklace he had ever seen before. A blood-red tear-drop hung from the silver chain, shining as if it had an inner fire. The clasp to the necklace must have broken while Ginny had gotten up and when she left it must have fallen on to the seat. But where did Weasley get this? Draco didn't need to be an expert to know that this gemstone was one-of-a-kind and might even have some kind of magical propertythe only logical explanation was that Ginny had stolen it.

Draco pocketed the gem, promising himself that in the morning he would find out what it was, and more importantly, what it did


Author's Note: This is has been a long first chapter—I hope that you have enjoyed it! Please, no matter who you are or what you think of this fic, please review! Any type of review is welcomed—questions, comments, concerns and flames. If enough people like this story I'll be happy to write more, but whatever you do, don't leave without reviewing!