A/N: Mehehe…plot bunny attacked! This is short and stupid, but I rather like it. I don't think I'll post a longer "How It Happened" version, but maybe…I'm in between.

Inspiration: "It is a dangerous thing to ask why someone else has been given more. It is humbling and indeed healthy to ask why you have been given so much" - Condoleeza Rice

Dedication: To sasori and Eclipsed Planet. Jedi Tess of Gryffindor too, but that's a given. ;) You guys are writing the most kick ass fics, and I have one thing to say-Hurry!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. It is owned by JK Rowling, aka Miss Won't Share The Wealth.

The Dysfunctional Quill

He remembered that day more than he remembered what he had for breakfast. He noticed long before he talked to her that she didn't seem jealous of his many possessions, and that made him intrigued. She was happy with who she was and what she was, and that made him like her. Above all though, she didn't need him. That made him want her.

He had been flaunting the new eagle feather quills he had gotten when he noticed her in the corner, banging her worn home made quill begging it to work. He jumped at the chance to finally get her attention and put on his patent sneer.

"What's wrong Weasley? Cheap quill not working? Don't you wish you had one of these?" he taunted, as he waved on of the quills in her face.

She looked him right in the eye and responded, "Not really." before going back to coaxing it to work.

"Weasley, you can't possibly be happy with that broken…thing…" he commented, still unaccustomed to Ginny Weasley's content for her life.

"Well, I am. I know that my quill is twice as special to me than yours are to you."

"What do you mean?" he asked haughtily, "These were a gift from my parents! Of course they mean a lot to me."

"How can they? Just another gift of many, right? The next thing they send you will have you forgetting you even had quills, much less if they meant anything or who gave them to you!" she said, her flaming cheeks and ears the only sign she wasn't as calm as her voice and demeanor might have suggested.

"Why I-" Draco started, but she didn't stop there.

"My brother helped me make this quill, from his very own owl!" she said, as if that made her quill twice as wonderful as his-and maybe it did.

"Ron can make a quill?" Draco might have doubled over in laughter at the idea.

Ginny, however, did not find it amusing at all, and instead stomped her tiny foot and said, "No, not Ron! Percy!"

Draco's mind brought up a picture of a lanky redheaded Head Boy, who was probably the only one of the Gryffindor Prefects that didn't take points away from his house for the fun of it. He rather respected Percy, but instead of such a kind compliment gracing his lips, something else came out instead.

"That tall and scrawny know-it-all? He took the time out of studying a rule book to help you make a dysfunctional quill?"

By now Ginny's entire face felt heated, but it was still her cheeks and ears that were set ablaze.

"Percy is a very nice-" but this time Draco cut her off.

"Listen Weasel, I don't have time to sit and argue with a girl who doesn't even own a decent quill." Draco said, for once not sneering, for he had a brilliant idea.

"Well isn't that prejudice."

He shrugged and said, "Maybe. So here."

He handed her one of his quills and grinned.

"Now you own a decent quill. So what were you saying?"

Ginny grinned, pocketed the quill, and that was the start of it all.

Draco sometimes wondered what would have happened if he didn't see his opportunity to show his interest. It was a known fact that he thanked God for dysfunctional quills every night before he went to bed.