Disclaimer: I own nothing, so please don't sue…

A/N: I was in a mood. That is my excuse. And also, thanks to Sarah for helping me find a word and thanks to Tammie for telling me to write this. That is all, for now. 

******

v Perfect Hate

It started with hate.

It was a perfect hate, the kind that doesn't even have to be justified. Every time I saw him I felt the blood begin to boil through my veins. My heart would speed up and I'd breathe harder. The blood would rush to my face and I'd hold my head higher. I'd lick and purse my lips and I'd mentally prepare myself for the coming onslaught. He didn't even have to speak to me; he didn't even have to look at me. He would just come into the room and immediately my body would react to his presence. It was something uncontrollable, something natural; something that I couldn't fight.

I knew he would come to me.

He seemed to feel my presence when I was near him, and then I'd notice his eyes darting back and forth looking for me. It was a game, and this is how we always started.

When he finally noticed me he would approach me, that smug smile on his face, the one he always wore, the one I detested with every cell in my body. It was pasted on all the time, when he sat with his stupid bodyguards across the Great Hall, when he played Quidditch, when he tormented the rest of the school. It was this mixture of pride and amusement, and it infuriated me to no end.

And the stupid way he approached me, argh it just makes me want to scream in frustration!  It wasn't a walk, it wasn't a glide, it wasn't a run; it was this slow, deliberate dance. Yes, a dance. It was graceful and conceited and it made me want to kick him in the shins. How dare he be so graceful when I'm so awkward?

He also had this stupid habit of slicking back his hair when he made his way towards me. As if his stupid walk wasn't enough, he had to play with his blonde hair, his stupid blonde hair that caught the colors of the sun when he was out. Why did he do that? Did he deliberately go out of his way to annoy me with his mannerisms?

And when he was finally in front of me, he had this silly little habit of cocking his head to one side, then turning around to wink at his fans. God I hated him. It was worse when he turned back to me, and he raised an eyebrow in appraisal. Did he think he was God? Standing there, passing judgment, did he think he was better than me? Did he think he was better than everyone else? Did he think that I couldn't take it?

God he was a bloody bastard.

And then they would come. His mouth would pour out word after word after word of taunts, scoffs, mocks, anything and everything under the sun. There was no end to his hecklings, he never seemed to run out of jeers, he never seemed to miss a beat.

What made it more aggravating was the way he was perfectly composed the whole time.

Here he was tormenting me, making me feel less than a slug, ripping out my self-esteem and tearing it to shreds while remaining as aloof as the horizon.

How exactly did he do that? Did he know he was belittling me so much? If he knew, he couldn't have remained that detached could he?  

But he was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin always gets what they want, at whatever cost, no matter how great. It was something I would eventually learn the hard way.

******

I remember that night clearly. It was the night I had found Harry with Hermione. They were alone for once, my brother was in detention for "causing a ruckus" in potions.

They were alone, and they didn't seem to be missing my brother at all. They were sitting in front of the fire in the common room. Hermione bent over Harry, helping him with homework, and Harry, smiling softly, the fire playing magical shadows on his face and lighting his eyes.

Or was it the fire?

He placed a hand on Hermione's, and with his other hand he placed a strand of Hermione's hair behind her ear. I could see Hermione's face blushing, and I could see a look in her eyes I had never been witness to before.

He then, slowly and deliberately leaned in and…

I couldn't watch it.

I left the common room immediately. I couldn't take it. Did they know what they were doing? Didn't they know how upset my brother would be?

Didn't they even think what I would feel?

But as I stumbled carelessly about the halls of Hogwarts, I realized I did not feel anything. Not a single thing.

I remember feeling confused at this. Wasn't I supposed to be infatuated with Harry Potter? Wasn't I supposed to be feeling upset and angry? But I wasn't. I wasn't feeling anything but pity, pity for my brother, because never, in all the times I'd seen him kiss Hermione, had I ever seen Hermione with that look on her face, the one she wore when Harry leaned in to kiss her…

I still wasn't ready to go back to the tower, however, feeling that if I saw them snogging I'd explode at them for being so foolish and inconsiderate with my brother's feelings. How could they? How bloody could they? And they called themselves his best friends…

So I stumbled around the school, trying to find a place where I could sit down and think. I wasn't exactly sure what I needed to think about though. Maybe I just needed a place to relax and cool off.

I knew I was out of luck when I bumped into Draco Malfoy.

There he was, Draco Malfoy. Looking extremely smug with himself, his hair dancing every which way, the top buttons of his blue shirt undone, and to my extreme disbelief, he was barefoot.    

In complete shock, I didn't react to him the way I normally would. I did, however relish the fact that it was my turn to look him up and down appraisingly, and I was ecstatic to notice him shifting underneath my gaze. One point to Weasley for crawling under his skin (even thought it was just this once.)  

"What are you doing out at this time of night, Weasley?" He asked me scathingly, trying to get some control over the situation.

"I should ask you the same question." I asked, covering my twitching mouth with my hand. I honestly should have tried harder to hide my amusement…

"And what, pray tell, is so funny?" Draco asked petulantly. He obviously wasn't in the mood for some good old-fashioned passive aggressive banter.

I think my laughter got to him though. Now that I think about it, I didn't know what was so amusing really. Something about seeing Malfoy barefoot just tickled me funny. Then again, maybe hysterical laughter was the only way I could get all my silent aggressions out. Unbeknownst to Malfoy, he was the cause of half of them…

No sooner had I broken up into fits of uproarious laughter, which to this day I am surprised didn't lead Filch directly to us, the familiar, malicious sneer overcame his face.

And then it came, like it always did. The endless formation of taunts and jeers, straight in a line they came out. Nothing new really, Weasley you're so poor blah blah blah, Weasley you're so ugly no decent wizard would ever look your way, blah blah blah.

I don't know why I always let it upset me. Usually, however, I take it, and later on vent in my own quiet way. But today was different. Today I had already undergone his derision two separate times, once outside during Quidditch practice, and once on my way out of the Great Hall. Today I also witnessed my brother's two best friends going at it behind his back. I also got a really bad grade in Transfiguration that would surely cause my mother to send me a Howler, so quite frankly, I wasn't in the mood to take it and then vent quietly later on. I felt like fighting back, I felt like letting it all out!

The familiar sensations of blood rushing to my face and the quickening of my heartbeat coursed through my body. Before I could think twice, something within me snapped, and I slapped him.

I slapped him.

I slapped Draco Malfoy.

My hand threw itself across Draco Malfoy's face.

Draco Malfoy.

The smarmy git that torments me every day of my life, the one whom I let torment me.

I just smacked him.

And that's not all. I yelled at him.

I told him everything I thought about him. Everything! How I hated him, how I wished him dead. I also told him that he wasn't better than me. He wasn't better than dirt. In fact, he was no better than some sort of disease. He was a pariah of humanity and by god I hated him and how I cursed the fates for ever deciding to bring him into my life.

All he could do was stare at me. During my whole tirade and mental breakdown, he stared at me clutching his hand to his cheek. I was yelling every bad name under the sun at him, tears were freely running down my face, and all he did was stare at me.

And then the unthinkable happened.

He slammed me up against a wall and he kissed me.

At first I didn't respond. I just stood there, frozen. What exactly did he think he was doing? What exactly was I doing? Why wasn't I shoving him away? This is Draco Malfoy, and you are Ginny Weasley. This cannot be happening, it's impossible!

But there we stood, against the wall, his lips pressed to mine.

And when I finally had the presence of mind to be able to shove him away, I didn't.

I didn't.

Au contraire. I kissed him back.

I kissed him back.

I brought my hands to his hair, and kissed him back.

I willingly opened my mouth to grant him access, and I kissed him back.

He wasn't showing any signs of stopping anytime soon. He eagerly stuck his tongue in my mouth and pressed himself harder against me.

And I let him.

I kissed him back.

And my god was I enjoying it.

I enjoyed it. It was complete euphoria! It was complete madness. And I didn't understand it, but I did.

It was the same. Exactly the same way I felt when we fought. The blood rushed to my face and my heartbeat quickened. The blood boiled in my veins and I braced for the onslaught.

But this onslaught was different; I enjoyed it. And I fought him back, punch for punch; I fought back.

When I didn't think I could breathe any longer I pulled away, only to be further exhilarated by feeling his lips and tongue on my neck. "Oh Gin," I heard him moan between kisses. "Gin, Gin, Gin…"

Hearing his breathless whispers, the logical part of me snapped into place and I pushed him away.

"Drac…err..Malfoy, what are you doing?"

I was surprised to find the top buttons of my shirt undone, when did that happen? And I was also surprised that the Draco that stood in front of me was not only barefoot, but shirtless as well. Had I done that?

Upon shoving him away, Draco seemed to awaken from some sort of haze. Perchance it dawned on him exactly what he had been doing with whom? But no, that didn't dawn on him, of course it couldn't have, he looked genuinely content. The Draco I know would never have been happy to realize he had just kissed me, a Weasley, a girl from a family he despised. But he did. And he was.

And that was where it started.

We never told anyone. Never. Every other day we would meet in the middle of the night for a secret rendezvous.

It was always the same, a quick spat, then an endless make out session that left me breathless and complete. It was glorious.

Who was this guy who could make me feel like trash, yet make me feel so good? What magic did he possess (besides the obvious one) that could make me hate him to the core of my being one minute, then make me love him to the anger of my heart?

He was an enigma of nature. Outside of our secret meetings, he wouldn't give me a glance, except to belittle me in front of the whole school. Once these little meetings began however, I began to get bolder and more reckless. I no longer let him demean me without a fight! Two could play this game. And this constant battle made the time I spent with him those passionate nights much more fiery and ardent.

I was beginning to realize that I was falling in love with him. I was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

The guy I hated so much that almost every time I saw him, I felt like pummeling him to the ground.

I was in love with Draco Malfoy.

And I knew, believe it or not, that he loved me too. He even told me so, one night after a very steamy snog session.

***

"Gin, you are so...amazing. What is it about you Ginny girl? Why do I feel that I am fighting a losing battle to you? Ginny…" he whispered in my ear between gentle kisses. "I think…I think I'm in love with you."

***

Even now I still hold he genuinely loved me.

But I was scared.

I was deathly scared.

Here I was at 16, falling in love.

In love.

What was I supposed to do?

Where did this leave me?

Where did this leave us?

It obviously could never work out. We were both so young, too immature to be really in love. And our families hated each other; they would never accept such a union.

And I couldn't lose my self control, it was the only thing I had left to lose, before I completely lost myself in my mortal enemy. Draco Malfoy, the bastard that would never leave me alone, yet I would surely die if he ever did.

So I pushed him away.

I made sure I pushed him away, before our families could interfere, before I lost all self- control, and before he could push me away.

And now I regret it.

I regret pushing him away.

Why?

Because it worked.

It bloody worked! Not only did I push him away, but I pushed him into the arms of another, some stupid Slytherin whore!

But I made the decision, and I was conscious of what I was doing.

Now there is one thing left to wonder. Would I have lost more if I let him stay? Or did I lose more letting him leave…

Now there is no way for me to know.

******

It started with hate.

It was perfect hate, the kind that doesn't even have to be justified. The kind you relish because it evokes feelings within you that you never believed lurked under your skin.

And perfect hate turned into love, which by all means was not perfect in the least, but it was love nonetheless, and it hurt, the way hate does.

And now the love I was once felt for him is once again hate, but this time its less then perfect, because now the hate is intermingled with love, which makes it hurt even more, and makes it more real. 

Maybe one day we will find each other again, but for now all I have is hate, and love.