Oh, You Pretty Things Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

Title: oh you pretty thing

Authors: Joon and Jess

Pairing: Draco/Ginny, AU

Rating: M

Disclaimer: We by no means own Harry Potter. This is purely a project for fun and we are not gaining any profit from it.

Polished tile rolled out from underneath planted Oxfords, endlessly plowing forward in a great sea of caramel. The air was abnormally quiet, and it only seemed amplified by the horrified whispers dancing on the air with the taste of disbelief and confusion. The whispers were emitted from people trapped in gold framed cells, a moment of their lives captured into a moving portrait. Today there was no humor lining their features, no gossip endlessly pouring from their ancient mouths. They were all business, their complexions filled with deep lines of worry. These elderly people, almost royal looking in their two dimensional homes, all had their eyes on the man that had just entered. They bored into him, with a strongly distinct distaste. He didn't look back at them, they were just marks on a past long forgotten, something that didn't matter a bit to him. There was a deep sense of unease in the hallway, an atmosphere of something that had gone terribly wrong.

Two raven colored leather suitcases, so new that they were almost shiny in appearance sat on either side of him, floating a few inches above the floor. He stood looking straight ahead, into his future. He would have never imagined that he would be back here again, at this place that he had waited so long to get out of. Everything was different now, and it would continue to change. He had arrived this morning at the school, the school that he had grown up in, taken classes in, and had so many memories in. He was in disbelief, his past experiences suddenly flooding his head and taking over. There was such a strong nostalgia here, and it had a bitter taste. He didn't want to remember everything that he had once efficiently blocked from his mind, and was now coming back so easily and quickly. Everything had happened at least a few years ago were now fresh in his mind, no longer an echo but a sour note.

Before he would let it overwhelm him, he started walking. His posture was confident, his stride unmatched with his tall figure and broad shoulders. His suitcases traveled with him, moving smoothly above the floor to follow him. His eyes were distant, stone gray looking off at something that wasn't completely there. They were as sharp as a knife, cutting through the scene before him. He wasn't greeted by anybody at the Hogwarts main door, and that was what he had requested. He passed by ancient armory, statues, and gargoyles that lined the corridors, and he remembered how dreadfully mysterious and frightening they had been to first years that had skittered down these hallways. It had been a few years since he had graduated, and now he was coming back to live in that stuffy castle that he had called his home away from home for seven long years of his life.

These portraits continued analyzing the man, watching his every step. They were attracted to his blonde hair that was near white in color like ships were attracted to a lighthouse beacon in the foggy mist of the night. His locks of sun bleached hair fell in the style that was vaguely a casual messy, but planned articulately to look the way that it did. His hair gave way to even lighter skin, creamy to the point of being pasty. The poor man couldn't go out in the sunlight without a heavy sunblock spell and a cap, or else his face would turn a hearty lobster red. A long nose, defined chin. High cheekbones that looked almost delicate. Features that were painted elegantly onto his face, the perfect image of a Malfoy. He had a severe look about him that registered to other people as he was better than them. And he was. His nose seemed to be above the crowd, in a literal sense. Since leaving Hogwarts his boyish charm and features had hardened with maturity, with the things that had happened to him over the past few years. He shot up in growth, now at a hearty six feet and three inches. Though he looked extremely different, he still had the Malfoy aura about him. He was no longer a boy depending on his mother, he no longer needed to be anywhere, or do anything for anybody. He did as he pleased, with the only people able to tell him what to do being the ones that were very, very high in power and dignity.

Times were tough in the wizarding world these days. There was a roaring battle between the Order of the Phoenix, and Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Many people died, more than any other in all of the history of witches and wizards. There was no apparent victor, as soon as one side emerged as the lead, the other side planned something extraordinary and dramatic to even the playing field. There were massacres, and it was a dark time for all. The Death Eaters had stooped so low as to plan attacks on Hogwarts two years after Draco had graduated. Sixteen Hogwarts students died. Without Dumbledore, and with the attacks planned and tragedies occurring all over Europe, the school could no longer continue. The Hogwarts students were sent to different schools, dispersed among the country. Hogwarts was no longer safe. It had now been two full years that Hogwarts had been completely empty. Because there were already so many attacks on the school, and it was presumed to be cleared out, the Order decided to hold their meetings there. It was a place that could be presumed secure, and had housing for all of the members. It would be secretive, and the strongest wizards that were a member of this Order placed a spell over Hogwarts to make it seem deserted to any wizard that they had not approved of coming.

Draco still couldn't believe that he was here. He had talked to the leaders of the Order, and devised a plan with them. He had convinced them that he was on their side, and that he was getting valuable information about the Death Eaters from his father's friends. Draco had pretended to be scared, that they were the only people that he could turn to. He seemed helpless, wanting to help. They had believed him. With Dumbledore dead, they had to trust him. The Order didn't have many reliable sources, and Draco was a blinding hope, a source that they gambled over. He was called to Hogwarts, and they trusted him with some of their deepest secrets. Draco listened knowingly, his eyes full of aew like a child on Christmas. His father had taught him how to look in difficult situations, taught him the exact expressions to use when he was supposed to be listening enthusiastically, or trying to be trusted. He had been accepted as a trusted member of the Order, and that was all that mattered.

Draco knew that he wouldn't be popular with the other members. They thought of him as evil and deadly to their side, they wouldn't want him here. That was fine with him. He wasn't doing this to make friends, and he wasn't planning on having any sort of a relationship with anybody besides a distant civility. Perhaps not even that. The Order needed Draco, and thought that he needed them. Draco was strong, and he didn't need anybody to lean on here. He would do just fine by himself.

The walk to his living quarters was shorter than he had remembered. Draco had requested to stay at his old dormitory in the Slytherin dungeons, but all of the living quarters were filled in that section of the area. He approached a large portrait of a wizard with a short wiry silver beard and bright blue eyes. Draco muttered the password that he had been given the day before, but the portrait wouldn't reveal its opening. The wizard stared at Draco with eyes filled of hatred, wondering why he was here, what crazy person could have possibly let him in on this. After a few long moments of a staring contest, the portrait relented and showed its portrait hole. Draco hunched over as he entered the common room, blinking as he adjusted to the brightness of the room. This was the Head common room. This common room was used for the general meeting place of the four heads of the former houses at Hogwarts. It also connected the four dormitories that they lived in, regarded as "no man's land".

A complete wall of the room was pure window, charmed with a thick protective spell. The window let in a large amount of sunlight, and had an overview of the lake. The scene below was beautiful, the day seemed to counter everything that was currently going on in the wizarding world. Half of the room was covered in a thick plush rug, plum in color. There were large overstuffed armchairs and a fireplace, as well as tables the proper height for grading essays. Draco felt familiar with that, it was similar to the common rooms that he had lived in, except for this was a bit more elegant. The only difference from this section of the room from the student common rooms was a large wooden bookshelf that leaned against the wall, containing books with yellowed pages that appeared ancient and powerful. On the other side of the room there was a large oak table, finished with a shiny lacquer. There were four seats at this long table, and each seat in itself was like a large thrown. On one side of the table was a golden chair with elegant twirls and lazily floating curls. A cursive H was on the back of the chair, made out of what Draco thought was gold leaf. Next to the chair was a royal red throne of a seat, a warm tinted shock of color that featured a ferocious lion. This chair was the boldest of them all, complete with exotic designs and outrageous decorations. Across from the golden chair was a deep blue seat, a smartly designed chair with much less of the fluff on the chair beside it. Feathers were carved into this chair all along the arms and base of the chair, along with dark ravens embroidered on the seat. A simple 'R' was flourished onto the back of this chair. Next to the blue chair was an emerald green chair. There was a serpent tangled around the whole edge of the seat. This chair was lavishly decorated, with dark symbols and beautiful artistry. These were the four chairs that the founders of Hogwarts had sat in, and discussed the workings of the school. Draco felt awed in their presence. His hand trailed over the back of the Slytherin seat, skimming the surface of it lightly. He felt an odd power coursing through his blood as he touched the seat, thinking of the man that had once sat in the chair. Suddenly his upper arm burned. This was a sensitive part of his flesh, a small area that was violated less than a month ago. There was a visual reminder of the ceremony that he had gone through, a painstakingly carefully made skull, a serpent slithering out of its gaping holes. His hand reached up to rub the tender part of his skin, and it quickly dropped. He didn't need anybody thinking that he was up to something.

Draco was informed that the other four dormitories for each of the Head rooms would be filled because the rooming at Hogwarts was filling up, but he wasn't sure of who would be taking the rooms. Draco had specifically requested the Slytherin dormitory, to feel more at home in the school. His request was fulfilled, and he made his way over to his room. It was a large door, the frame outlined in a perpetually slithering snake. He grasped the heavy circular iron door handle, and pulled, the wooden door slowly revealing what was inside of his room. Marble floors ran the length of his room. A large bed was situated on the far side of his room, with piling emerald green sheets and down pillows. He laid his suitcases on the bed, and slowly turned around, taking everything in about his room. There was something that reminded him distinctly of his home, and he instantly liked it. A simple wooden chair sat near the bed, and green drapery lined large windows with another spectacular view of the grounds. The room was elegant and tasteful. It was a gigantic room, but it still wasn't as big as his living quarters at the Malfoy Manor.

He made his way over to the bathroom, to see a large bathtub with golden legs furnished with animal claws at the end, an antique finish. Even the bathroom was expansive, with a porcelain sink and immaculately cleaned. The Heads lived in style. Draco brought his wand out of the folds of his clothing, and with a wave of the stick, he was unpacked. He opened the lavish dresser in his room, and selected his wardrobe for presenting himself to the crowd of Order members. A crisp white shirt, a green tie, and a black blazer. He looked a bit formal, but it was the impression that he wanted to make. He flicked his wand, and his hair was fixed into place. Draco stood looking out of the window for a long moment, wondering what was to come during his time at Hogwarts. He knew that he'd be leaving and coming frequently, to attend both meetings of the Order, and meetings of the Death Eaters. His eyes grazed over the lake where he had spent many lazy spring afternoons, some with girls, some with his minions, skipping stones and roughhousing. His eyes trailed over to the Quidditch Pitch, where he had toiled for long hours perfecting each of his broom stunts. Draco no longer played Quidditch, he had far too little time for anything like that. Sometimes, however, in the void of the night, he enjoyed pulling out his broom and flying for a bit. It was the most relaxing thing that he enjoyed to do. Then to the forbidden forest, which was dark even on this lovely day. He had gone there many times during his school life, exploring with an awe that comes with doing something he shouldn't have done.

He pulled away from the window, not wanting to get completely lost in the depths of his mind. Draco had had a habit of that more and more often, drifting off into places in his mind that he hadn't remembered were there. Sometimes long periods of time passed before he realized that he was dozing off again. He had lost a lot of time that way, and didn't exactly know how to prevent this. He walked over to the exit of his door, turning to examine things once more. He pulled out his wand again, and set a charm on his door that would alert him immediately if somebody had come into his room. He didn't want any intruders thinking that they could get away with rifling though his belongings. He opened the heavy wooden door, and stepped down into the Head common room. He sauntered over to the book shelf, picking out a large navy blue book. He opened it to the first page, and in a flowing script it was mentioned as a personal item of Salazar Slytherin. Draco thumbed through the pages, leaning up against the wall near the large bookshelf.

---

The wind whipped around her; her cloak rippling. Her eyes stung with the harsh cold as she maneuvered her way between the clouds. The redhead had become a mere speck in the sky, darting between the clouds to keep out of sight. Muggles were no longer the only people that she was avoiding being seen by. One keenly sighted wizard with pinpoint aim would be able to blast her out of the sky if she were not careful. The Dark Lord's people were everywhere. Spies and henchmen loomed around the proximity of the castle, waiting to strike or waiting to be stricken by the inhabitants of the ancient castle. The figure on the broom weaved through the sky; never deviating too far from where the old train tracks lay. The tracks, unused for a great deal of time, had become grown over with weeds and vines, practically rendering them useless. But that did not matter, for the scarlet steam engine would not be making the annual trips across them to Hogsmeade station. Hogwarts was now merely a shadow of the institution it once was.

The hallways that used to roar with life were now muted to quiet whispers. The classrooms were unused, gaining more and more dust on the abandoned desks. The great hall had been reduced to a quiet and jail-like cafeteria. People came in, ate, and left. There was no need for laughter and merriment. Everyone had a job to do and distractions merely stood to distract, not cause happiness or joyfulness. True, there was some laughter, but not in the uproarious style that the group was used to. Before the war- before the death of Dumbledore- the members were a lively and happy bunch. Now, the laughter was subdued and the unfocused were focused. There was no time to play around. Their forces were starting to lose hope. The Order of the Phoenix was in need of a rebirth- a new source of hope to revitalize their fight.

Even Ginny Weasley had begun to lose hope. The young woman had seen more and experienced more than she had ever expected to in her lifetime and she was barely out of her teenage years. She had changed- and more than just the physical changes a growing teenager had to go through. Emotionally, she had become stronger. Her instincts developed more quickly as well as her ability to control what she was feeling. Her temper, infamous for its quick trigger, had calmed to a certain point. She had become able to harness it, and use it to put more ferocity behind her spells. Simple curses that she used to perform now had severe effects on people due to the sheer amount of force behind them. She wouldn't even dream of submitting one of her brothers to her Bat-Bogey hex now, for they would probably come out of it with deformed facial features.

It had been her accuracy and power for charms and jinxes, as well as her affinity for Defense that had been the final argument for her acceptance into the Order. Her mother had been reluctant. Ginny had approached Moody, who had been elected as a type of leader for the Order, the day of her seventeenth birthday. She wanted in. She wanted to help, and she knew that she could. Molly had been adamant that her baby girl not join the Order, even if she was of age, and if so, she did not want Ginny out on the field or anywhere that could get her into danger. Ginny protested, even receiving support from her brothers. However, it was the frustrated growl from Moody and acceptance from Arthur that got Molly to stand down. Her daughter was grown. She had to accept that, and over time she did. Ginny had been able to go out with the rest of the Order, fighting alongside them and the other members that came to join as the months and eventually, years passed.

A streak of red light caught her eye, and she barely had time to dodge. She managed, but she felt the sharp sting of the spell hit her cheek. Recoiling, her hand flew to her cheek, feeling the warm wetness as blood started to ooze out. She winced, but did not wait around long. Someone had spotted her. Ducking down, she leaned forward, her broom accelerating- darting like a bullet across the sky. She did not chance a look back, but if she did, she would have seen another spell dissolve into the atmosphere due to a lack of target. Ginny Weasley continued, finding Hogwarts in close distance after she rounded the bend. The castle loomed on the hilltop, still magnificent to her eye after all of this time.

The school was devoid of students, though it was not devoid of people. Weeks after the second attack, Moody and McGonagall had conferred and decided that they could not let the castle stand alone with no inhabitants. It was a pivotal place, a societal landmark- a symbol of the hope and safety that they were fighting for. They decided to move the Order base to the castle. There, Order members could live together and find refuge from the constant fear that people lived in. Though, people did keep apartments and houses away from the castle. For if they didn't, they would be sitting ducks for a Death Eater attack, though Hogwarts was still relatively well protected.

Ginny had been one of the first to move in. She had just struck out on her own, since she had been tired of living with her parents. The opportunity to move back into Hogwarts had been a blessing. Plus, it gave her a sense of security- of safety. Hogwarts was her second home, only coming in second to the Burrow, which unfortunately was not used often due to the heightened risk of returning there. The Weasleys were a target bunch and the Burrow was their main location. Any Death Eater with a brain would attack there first if they knew that the Weasleys had gathered there. Hogwarts had been a welcome substitute for the childhood home that she was no longer able to visit freely.

She touched down on the grass, her legs quickly getting used to the transition from air to ground. Ginny quickly crossed the front courtyard, entering through the large oak doors. Broom in hand, she climbed the staircases, her boots making faint clacking noises as she took each stone step in stride. She kept the sleeve of her free hand clamped onto her face, applying pressure to the slice that now decorated her cheek. She was lucky, she knew. If she had not moved, the spell could have taken her head off. The adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins was wearing down, now the incessant throb and sting of the area around the cut was apparent. Quickly, she made her way through the halls, ignoring the hushed murmurings of the portraits that continued to adorn the walls. They were comforting- always there and always aware of the things that were going on.

Approaching the portrait to her living quarters that she shared with others, she noted the confused expression on the person of the portraits face. She said the pass, somewhat impatiently and waited for the door to swing open. When it finally did, she stepped through, walking quickly. She wanted to see what the cut looked like. Her vanity was not important in this particular instance, but the nature of the cut. She did not know the spell she was hit with. It could have been anything. Some disfiguring spell, a poisonous spell, anything.

Ginny entered the common room, unaware of the other dweller in the room. She was used to entering and finding no one there, due to the fact that the others held jobs in the ministry in order to gain information. Despite the fact that she was mostly alone in this tower, she enjoyed it. The Ravenclaw Head room was beautiful and she loved it, it was homey. Dropping her broom onto the couch, she quickly shed her robes, which joined her broom on the couch. Muggle clothes had always been more comfortable to her and she usually wore her robes over them. Jeans and a top were her usual casual clothing of choice and that had been what she had chosen that morning. Unfortunately, she had chosen a white, long sleeved zip-up sweater to cover the plain blue tank top- one of the sleeves now stained with the blood from her cheek.

She walked over to the mirror, removing her hand from her cut. Ginny ignored her windblown mane of red hair that fell gracefully down her back but looked slightly wild at the moment. She also ignored her enflamed skin, reddened by the wind. Seeing the amount of blood on the sleeve of the sweater, she took that off as well, tossing it onto the couch to join the other goods that she had deposited there. Picking up a tissue, she applied it to her cheek, hissing at the contact.

"Shit," she voiced, removing the tissue to look more carefully at the cut. It looked okay to her. A little salve on it and it should be okay. This wasn't the first injury she had received. She may have matured, but she was still young- often pigheaded and not thinking of the consequences of her actions when rushing into altercations in raids and battles. She had had ribs broken, cuts on her arms, spells hitting her straight on in the chest. Her skin was beginning to lose its reddishness, adjusting to the different climes, and fading back into its ivory-like complexion. Her eyes looked down for a moment, grabbing a fresh tissue. When she looked up again, the mirror in the room reflected a figure standing by the bookcase- an all too familiar figure.

Ginny whirled around, her wand already drawn, her bleeding cut forgotten. "Malfoy?" She questioned, clearly confused as to why he was here. She had not been warned, apparently. Her intial shock wore off and she stood straighter, more confidently. "You. How did you get in here?"

Draco had flipped through the first half of the book, skimming some paragraphs, reading a few with a half-hearted interest. He was still entranced by the fact that he was in the aura of his idol, Slytherin. His eyes traced the delicate script, it had been written a long time ago, and had been the personal works of some unknown wizard. He was waiting for the first meeting to begin, the one where he would discuss urgent matters with members of the Order. He wasn't particularly looking forward to this meeting, considering that he had traveled a far distance to get to the Hogwarts castle, and wanted to rest before doing anything else. He knew that he would have to face all of the members and be taunted and insulted by them at some point, but he figured that the later that he had to do it, the better. Draco planned to spend as little time with anybody that he could. Nobody liked him, and he felt similarly. He sure as hell wasn't doing this all for fun.

Somebody walked into the room just them, and he jumped. They didn't realize that he was there, the female was preoccupied with a wound that had appeared on her face. Draco decided to stay hidden for the moment, savoring his last few minutes of peace before the drama would begin. His eyes traced over the newcomer, analyzing and calculating. A woman that looked vaguely familiar. Her face reminded him of something from an old photograph like those from his grandmother's old albums. Her appearance was something from older times. He pondered over who she could be for a minute, before coming to his conclusion. That red hair, freckles, and tall structure couldn't belong to anybody other than a Weasley. Ginny Weasley. What was she doing here? Certainly she couldn't be actually living here right near him… Besides, the Order would have warned him. The Weasleys and Malfoys were two ancient pureblood families that were notorious for fighting. The two groups were so dissimilar it was almost humorous. No, no, no. She couldn't be here. Why would they let something like this happen?

Before he could act, the girl had turned, addressed him, and whipped out her wand. And the hatred began. He almost winced, not wanting to deal with this. This would be the exact reaction of everybody currently residing at Hogwarts at the morning.He allowed a small smile to come to his mouth. Perhaps he would attempt to be civil. Acting differently would certainly help his role, but he wanted to save his breath for all of the explanations that he would be entitled to give. He couldn't kid himself. Everybody knew that once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. Draco was no different. He had been debating over how to act for the longest time, not being able to choose. On one hand, acting needy and weak would make them believe that they needed him. On the other hand, if he acted kindly, somebody was bound to suspect that something was going on. Malfoy had never been kind to anybody that wasn't a close friend of his, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to change this disposition.

"Quite a greeting, Miss Weasley," he stated, trying to be a bit civil to her. He would give her the benefit of the doubt, and experiment with different acts with her. He still couldn't believe that she was here, that she was living closely to him. The nerve of the Order! Draco pulled out his wand to match her, knowing that she wouldn't dare try to hex him. With a flick of his wand and a mumble of a spell, the skin on her cheek began knitting together, until there was nothing but a fading pink scar left to remind her of the incident. However she had managed to hurt herself. Draco had learned a lot in his time at Hogwarts, probably more than he had learned in all of his school years combined. Most of the magic that he had learned was dark. He had undergone a strict training, learning discipline, and living without human contact for long amounts of time. It had taught him all he needed to know, and had developed himself into the person that he was today.

"I was invited to join. The doors swung wide open. I'm glad you approve." He took a step back from her, not wanting to explain the full details of his being here. It was a long winded story that was only known to a few people. Draco certainly had completed a daring feat by making the members of the Order trust him. Draco shoved his wand back into his pocket, turning away from her on his heal. He didn't like her Muggle clothes, they always seemed dirty and fantastically casual to him. Draco preferred to dress himself sharply like his father, always commanding attention from the people in the room. His eyes moved back over to the table, looking over the four chairs. "So, you live here? Does anybody else?" He wasn't sure if she was going to attempt to be kind to him as well, but if she was, perhaps he could get some extra information out of her. Perhaps even entrance her to move to the dark side. He was known for bringing girlfriends to adopt his opinions when necessary.

Brown eyes carefully surveyed his appearance, looking for any signs of….well, anything. Tall, with a lean muscular tone, the same obnoxiously pale skin and blond hair. He was still relatively good-looking, but he looked worn- just as many others their age did. It seemed as if no one was free of the stress and hardships that the present situation inflicted on a person. If it wasn't him, it was Malfoy Sr. - who would be looking way too good for his age and recent living conditions. Last she had heard of the elder was that he was still spending his hours pounding rocks and slowly going crazy within the black rock walls of Azkaban. Though, any news of the goings on in Azkaban was not as accurate as it used to be. The dementors had turned, rejoining their leader, lured by promises of better atmospheres. Their freedom from the confines of the island prison created a different atmospheres- the perpetually fog-like state that had been occupying much of the British Isles had been thriving since their departure; a gloomy atmosphere for a gruesome time. But luckily, Hogwarts had not succumbed to the dankness of surrounding areas.

She blinked, eyes glancing down to the sleeve of his left arm. Ginny knew that lingering underneath the fabric of his shirt, emblazoned on his skin, would be the mark. The tell-tale mark of where his loyalties lie. She did not even need to question it. All his actions through school, his family history, his personality- all of it were key indicators of the man that he would become. It did not take a certified genius to come to this conclusion. Draco Malfoy would have never been able to escape what he had become; it was almost predestined. Ginny almost felt sorry for him- almost. That was why she pulled her wand out so quickly. A sneaky, yet smart, person like him with his prior history would be automatically assumed to have wormed his way into the castle. A parasite, out to kill the body from the inside- to feed off what it could gain, and then kill it.

Her thoughts were a distraction. Malfoy's presence had surprised her. To say the least, she thought the next and only time she would be seeing him in the future after the last time she saw him at Hogwarts would be on the battlefield, possibly shouting debilitating spells at one another. The hindering thoughts kept her off her guard and she was vaguely surprised when she felt the skin pull on her cheek. Her poised and steady arm, pointing her wand at him, relaxed as she touched her cheek with her other hand. He had healed it with no benefit for him in the picture. She eyed him warily, and then glanced in the mirror. Sure, she was a girl who gave off the idea that she didn't care what she looked like, but she was a girl, nonetheless, and didn't want a raging growth mutating the side of her face. It was fine. She watched as the light pink scar faded under her fingertips, her cheek looking as if the blood-dripping gash had never been there.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly, turning back to look at him. Still, the mystery of his presence still plagued her. He seemed to be avoiding the subject as he began to ramble- trying to seem apathetic to the whole ordeal, but not being snide or haughty. This was quite unexpected. Ginny raised a brow, not really believing whatever act he was trying to pull. She gave him a funny look as to his question over whether or not she lived here. Gee, no. I just like walking into random places to use the mirror. Vanity is the essence of life, don't you know?

"Not anymore," she answered, crossing her arms under her chest, finally removing her wand from offense position. She didn't finish that statement. She left the unspoken 'They died" to his imagination.

"You never answered my question. What are you doing here?" Ginny answered apathetically, showing no emotion. Guarded- she was on guard, surveying and sizing up what she assumed was going to be an opponent. Draco Malfoy would never be her ally. No matter what hair brained judgment the rest of the order made about him, Ginny knew that she could never really trust him. He must have been the new 'contact' that one of the older members had been speaking about at the last meeting. This was probably not going to go over well at all with the 'old crowd'. She knew her family, Harry, and Hermione would probably not go for it- especially with what happened with Snape. It was going to be a free-for-all at the meeting later in the morning. That was for sure.

Draco watched as she analyzed him, knowing that she had already formed an opinion of him. It was probably a negative opinion at that. He stared back, not to be intimidated. She was a member of the Order, and he had nothing to be afraid of. She certainly looked different from the last time he had seen her, when she was finishing up her sixth year of Hogwarts and he was graduating. Her whole family hated him, it was an unwritten rule that the Malfoys and the Weasleys must be bitter enemies. Draco couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her life. She had obviously joined the Order, all of their family was on the 'good' side. The last time he had seen her she had also been going out with Potter. This did not mean much to him, he was just amazed that any member of the female gender would go out with the boy. What had happened to all of them while he was in training? He was curious about the things that they had done, and if they had completely forgotten about him. It was a possibility. It was implied that all wizards just wanted to forget that Draco Malfoy existed. They didn't understand his motives, his thoughts, anything. They were willing to insult, willing to blame anybody that they could lay their finger on.

It was a complicated web of wizarding connections that Draco hovered on. He knew things that other wizards did not. Secret organizations, underground communities. He had learned this in his years of training. Once he had awoken in a completely foreign country, with nothing but a note instructing him to learn the language and culture, and not contact his handler. He was there for a year, learning carefully. He had gone through things that people had never dreamed of, and still he was considered a coward, a wimp. Somebody that couldn't handle anything. "I'm here to help the Order." That was all that she needed to know at the moment.

And so he held Ginny's gaze, and didn't look elsewhere. He would be able to do anything that they asked him to. What the Order didn't know, however, was that Draco was really in control of them. They believed that they could control his every actions, and oh how wrong they were. Draco's eyes moved across her face, reading her expressions, looking into her eyes to see what was there. He knew that she was upset with him, almost everybody was. He didn't know how intense her hatred was for him, and he didn't know when he would find that out. It would be a difficult journey at Hogwarts for him, testing boundaries and trying to make false friendships. He wanted to keep as much to himself as possible, but he knew that it wouldn't be entirely possible to do such a thing.

And as his eyes traced over her features, feeling her out, trying to establish something between her, the cut on her cheek ripped open. This surprised him, all of his spells always worked. This was actually a rather simple spell compared to the other things that he had learned, and he wondered if he was losing his touch. Had he said it wrong? Did he need a new wand? He watched as her face began bleeding worse than it had before, a crimson river running from her flesh. His eyebrows shot up, and he took a few strides towards her, wondering what he could have done to make the wound even worse. A hand shot up to her cheek, moving smartly with ease. He stroked underneath the cut gently, wiping away the blood to look at the cut itself. It was a nasty thing, and he was sure that he hadn't done it himself. The only thing that he could think of was a new weapon that the Death Eaters could be using. He had heard rumors about it, but it was supposed to be still in the design process. A weapon that produced cuts that couldn't be healed. It was supposed to be impossible, but maybe the blueprints leaked, and were already being made.

He moved closer to her face, studying it with a fierce intensity. Draco always was looking forward to perfecting his magic, making his skills better and creating new spells to do amazing things with them. There was something about touching this female skin that excited him as well. He hadn't come in contact with a girl for a long time in his standards, and even though this was a Weasley, she sure had grown up since he had last seen her. His hand held her close, while his other hand brought his wand closer. He was wondering what type of spell he should use this time to see if the weapon had in fact been released when the portrait hole opened. Draco froze for a moment, wondering who else could be here. Perhaps it was one of the wizards that he was supposed to meet. He turned his eyes towards the hole, and they landed on a shock of black hair and a very familiar face. Thick rimmed glasses. Lightning bolt streak. The unhealthily skinny face, and the whiny voice that rose up into the air. Harry Potter. This would be fun.

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