Written for the FIA 2014 Summer Challenge. This story features the concept of summer school at Hogwarts, so suspend your disbelief. See full prompt below in author's notes.
Ginny sat quietly in the corner of the classroom with her nose buried in a book. She was pretending to read the assigned passage about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 or 1216. She wasn't sure which and she didn't really care. She was less concerned with history and far more interested in the Muggle book she had hidden between the tome's thick pages.
It was Grimms' Fairy Tales. A gift from Hermione.
Ginny wasn't normally one for reading—she was more of an outdoors fun sort of girl—but she quickly found herself enamoured with the simple stories of good versus evil, maidenly virtue and the handsome princes falling in love with ailing or destitute princesses. The standard formula had the princess oppressed and the prince swooping in to save the day with a kiss, giving the princess her happily ever after. It was all very sexist, if you asked her, but she couldn't stop reading.
"For a long time he stood gazing at her face, so full of serenity, so lovely and pure. He felt a spring to his heart, that love he had always been searching for but never found until now.
"Overcome with emotion, the prince bent down and gently kissed her lips. At that, the princess opened her eyes, awoken by true love's kiss."
She closed the book with a sigh.
She tried to be affronted by the idea of a man having to save a woman, of true love being determined by a kiss. She really did. They were foolish and old-fashioned sentiments. No sane woman would romanticise a strange man kissing her while she was asleep and vulnerable and then marry him out of obligation. Because that's what it was: an obligation, not true love. It was all very creepy and unnatural when she thought about it.
Ginny wasn't what Hermione would call a feminist. Or maybe she was. She didn't really understand the definition. She believed men and women were equal to a point but were also vastly different, and there was nothing wrong or degrading about being unequal. After all, women could give birth and men couldn't. Their roles in procreation were slightly unequal, yet babies couldn't be born without both genders involved.
What she did believe was that women had the choice to be, do and believe in whatever they wanted. And if a girl wanted to be besotted by tales of princes awakening princesses with true love's kiss, then she could. If she wanted to dismiss such stories as hokum, she could do that too. To her feminism was all about choice.
Ginny, however, wasn't ten anymore. She freely chose not to believe that a kiss from a prince would wake the princess from her deep slumber or cure her from a poisoned apple. But the idea of a kiss being so intimate and magical resonated with her sensibilities deep down. Despite finally waking up to the fact that she was all but invisible to Harry, she couldn't help but indulge in fairy tales about princes and life-altering kisses.
She chose to be a romantic at heart.
"Miss Weasley." Professor Binns' droning voice broke through her reverie, and she looked up. "Are you finished reading the assigned passage?"
"Almost!" she said a bit too eagerly, opening up her textbook again.
The wrinkled old tortoise of a ghost gave her a long look over his spectacles before sniffing and turning back to his notes. A moment later he nodded off again.
Once he was asleep, Ginny lowered her textbook and her eyes drifted covetously to an open window. It was a beautiful summer's day out. She should have been back home, practising Quidditch with Fred and George like she had been earlier in June. Instead she was stuck at Hogwarts attending summer school for the next three weeks thanks to a mild case of red fever that'd had her missing out on too many classes.
Suddenly there was a loud snort and everyone in the classroom jumped in their seats. Professor Binns had startled himself awake, looking as confused as his students. But a few seconds later he was back to lecturing, his reedy voice cutting through the silence like the old Muggle hoover her father tinkered with at home.
Eventually she tore her gaze away from the window and went back to her book. Summer school for three weeks? She groaned. Oh well. At least she had her fairy tales to keep her entertained . . . Or so she thought.
:::
The one good thing about summer school was that Ginny was still able to practise her flying and basic manoeuvres on the Quidditch field. However, the last thing she expected to see when she went into the girls' changing room was Malfoy snogging some leggy brunette against a locker.
Her first instinct should have been to leave, but it wasn't. Instead she clutched her broom and crouched down low, trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible. When she peeked around the corner, she was surprised to see the two still going at it intently.
She was so oddly fascinated by the act that she couldn't bring herself to look away. This was the first time she'd seen someone her age snog so passionately. Watching Fleur and Bill didn't count, mainly because she always turned away in disgust the moment the two lovesick fools went near each other. But her eyes refused to look away from Malfoy, watching how his lips claimed the brunette's, how his entire body possessed her.
Was he always this aggressive, so masculine and . . . sexy? And since when did he get so tall? His chest looked broader and more defined than she remembered, not that she kept record. Though he was a Seeker, he had a Chaser's build and it showed.
His dress shirt moulded to his hard body as he moved, the muscles of his abdomen contracting underneath the thin white fabric. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing pale forearms, and he cupped the brunette's face with his large, pale hands as he deepened the kiss.
Ginny briefly wondered if she had a forearm and hand fetish because despite her clear revulsion for the man, her gaze kept returning to his arms.
Calm down, she chided herself. It's just Malfoy. Why am I even watching this?
Had she become a voyeur?
Before she could think of leaving, he broke off the kiss and lowered his hands. The brunette's eyes were still closed, her lips still parted and swollen. After a moment she blinked hazel eyes open and stared up at him dreamily.
"Wow," she breathed. "You're amazing."
"I know."
Ginny rolled her eyes. Pompous git.
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
The brunette had the gumption to act demure. "D-did you like it?"
"Honestly? I felt nothing."
Ginny watched the girl's face fall in shock, pain and finally anger. There were tears in her eyes as she balled her hands into fists. She barely restrained herself from hauling off and slapping him (Ginny certainly would have). Instead she pivoted on her heel and stormed out of the changing room.
The girl had been so upset that she didn't see Ginny crouching in the corner, but Malfoy had. He sneered at her.
"See something you like, Weasley?"
"N-not likely!"
He stepped closer and she stood up, clutching her broom like a weapon. He towered above her, intimidating him with his size and his strength. She just glared at him defiantly, challenging him to do something, and he glared right back.
Those cold grey eyes. That cold, superior attitude. Kissing girls without the intention of going out with them. Insulting them and making them feel bad about themselves. What a jerk! There was no doubt about it—he was absolutely evil. That must have been why he didn't feel anything from the kiss. Or else the girl had really cocked it up somehow.
After a moment he eventually backed down, offering her a smug smirk before leaving the changing room. Once he was out of sight, she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and slumped down against the wall.
Summer school was going to be the death of her.
:::
The next day in class, she could barely keep still. All night she'd had dreams about Malfoy kissing faceless girls, or at least what resembled the loose felicity of Malfoy. Tall, slender but with a muscular frame, white-blond hair and light grey eyes—it could have been anyone. Right?
Shaking off the creeper vibe she had given herself, she took out her fairy tale book. Class wouldn't start for another ten minutes, so she decided she'd distract herself with a little reading. However, before she could finish the first paragraph, she heard some girls gossiping a row over.
"Did you hear? Lindsay left early with Malfoy yesterday."
"Ah, she's so lucky!"
Lindsay? Ginny thought with a frown. Lindsay Potts was a Ravenclaw, one of the girls who had hidden Luna's shoes a year ago. So that's who he was kissing?
She returned her attention to the book and glared at the pages that refused to be read. Why did these stupid girls think Lindsay was so lucky? She snogged Malfoy and was treated like shit for it. Who would be envious of that? Dolts. She couldn't understand why any of these girls would bite at the opportunity to kiss someone who didn't even like them and who they probably didn't even like themselves.
Even with her schoolgirl crush on Harry, Ginny had never dreamed of kissing him unless he initiated it. Maybe she was old-fashioned that way. The guy should make the first move. Of course she had no real experience with kissing in the first place. She had dated Michael Corner during her fourth year, but they'd done nothing more than hold hands. They had never gone any further for a myriad of reasons: she felt too young and self-conscious, she was still infatuated with Harry and, to be honest, she felt no real connection with Michael beyond his looks.
There was no spark.
Sometimes she wondered if she romanticised things too much. She was a bit of a tomboy—growing up with six older brothers did that to a girl—but she thought about girly things too, like how to wear her hair, who she'd marry and how a pair of lips would feel against hers. Would it be a miraculous feeling or dreamy, like being surrounded by a field of wild flowers?
She wrinkled her nose at her own foolish flight of fancy.
She hadn't seen any flowers when she watched Malfoy and Lindsay snog. The two were obviously into it—Lindsay more so than Malfoy—but since it wasn't her kiss, she wasn't sure she was meant to feel anything about it one way or the other. Although she had seen the spark in others before, like Fleur and Bill and even Harry and Cho. That last one especially bothered her.
"So you like him, too?" one of the girls whispered, and the others giggled.
"Mhm."
"Oh yeah."
"Well, he did get kinda hot over the summer, don't you think?"
"Yeah, he really did."
"He's a Slytherin and rather cocky, but I kinda like that."
"Me too!"
"Plus those eyes!"
"Oh, I know!"
The girls broke off into giggling fit of nonsense and Ginny gripped the book so tightly that the spine cracked under her fingertips.
What were they saying? What was wrong with them? Had they all gone mental? This guy they were all fawning over was Malfoy for Merlin's sake! Malfoy! He was an evil git with delusions of grandeur. What part of him was hot? His eyes? Big deal. He had grey eyes—how special. In her opinion, this classroom was stocked full of female idiots, or else they'd all been poisoned by him somehow. Maybe he had put a spell on them when she had gone to the toilet.
"What's the matter?" one of the girls asked, and the strawberry-blonde near the door gasped.
"He's coming!"
The girls scrambled around to make themselves look presentable for Malfoy's entrance.
Unlike the others students in the classroom, he wasn't there to make up grades. He had volunteered to help tutor and supervise for extra credit. It was something Hermione would have done, which made Ginny giggle at the comparison. But then Hermione didn't volunteer because she wanted to keep an eye on Harry after Sirius's death. At this recollection, the smile quickly slid off Ginny's lips.
When Malfoy finally entered the room, Ginny instinctively looked up and their eyes met; grey colliding into brown.
Shit! What do I do now?
She quickly looked away and willed her heart to stop beating so rapidly. He was just Malfoy, a mangy little ferret. He was a coward and an evil git, right down to the core. She wasn't going to be poisoned like the rest of these dimwits. His cold grey eyes couldn't entrance her; neither would his pale forearms and big hands.
"Ginny, are you listening?"
She blinked twice, released from her weird trance, and glanced over her shoulder. Abby McDonald, a Hufflepuff of the same year, was talking to her.
"What?"
"I asked if you were listening."
Ginny returned to her book. "Yep."
"Really? We were all thinking about going to jump off a cliff after class. Wanna join?"
"Yep."
Abby huffed in frustration before trying to take the book from Ginny's hand.
"Hey!"
"Are you still reading that Muggle book about fairy tales?"
"Yep."
"Despite being a Fifth Year?"
"Yep."
Abby lifted an eyebrow. "Do you really think fairy tale romances are the best tales to model after?"
"Nope. I just like reading 'em."
Should she have admitted that aloud?
"I can see the appeal for you," Abby said, leaning forward so that her chin was resting on Ginny's shoulder. "A destined encounter. A dreamy kiss with your prince charming."
"Having wet dreams about Potter, are you, Weasley?"
Shocked, she looked up to see Malfoy sneering at her with those cold grey eyes of his.
"Shut it, Malfoy!"
"Want to shut it for me?"
She looked down at her book and blushed fiercely at the innuendo before deciding to substitute shyness with indignant anger.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, like squatting underneath a bridge?"
He gave her a rather constipated look. "Are you suggesting that I'm a troll?"
"If the ugly shoe fits . . ."
"I'll have you know that my shoes cost more than your dingy little hovel."
That was the last straw. She threw down her book and stood up. Wand withdrawn, she had it pointed at his chest.
The class went silent.
"You wanna go?" Her chest heaved with indignation and another emotion she dared not question.
Malfoy didn't move to grab his wand. He just stood there, giving her a look somewhere between a scowl and smirk. Half-annoyed and half-impressed.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Are you afraid or just deaf?"
He leaned against her desk and folded his arms across his chest. "I just want a confirmation, something to tell the professor as to why you're serving a detention this Saturday."
She lowered her wand in confusion. "Wait—what?"
"You threatened a Prefect." His smirk widened and it suddenly dawned on her where he was going with this. "Honestly, I have to say that I'm impressed you went for your wand instead of your fists. There may be hope for you yet."
Her grip on her wand tightened almost painfully. "Why you—you grotty little wanker!"
He dropped a hand to the crotch of his trousers and adjusted accordingly. "I assure you there is nothing grotty or little about me, Weasley." He bent down so that his face was inches from hers. "Looks like you'll be spending the entire weekend in detention."
She gritted her teeth and bit back an insult before deliberately holstering her wand. She'd let him have this round, but the fight wasn't over yet.
:::
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and instead of flying or playing Quidditch with her friends, she was stuck in detention with Malfoy.
The gods clearly hated her.
"Can't we have detention outside?"
She knew complaining to him would only get her mocked, but she really didn't want to be cooped up in the Dungeons all day, especially since she was wearing a pair of shorts that could have been labelled as indecent.
"No."
He was sitting at Snape's desk with his feet propped up and a book in hand. For some reason his cool and unaffected demeanour annoyed her, more so than usual, so she sat on top of her own desk and let her legs dangle off the edge.
"Why not?"
He looked up from his book. "Because this is detention, not a beach party."
She pouted, swinging her legs back and forth like pendulums, and he pointed for her to sit properly at her desk. She lifted off onto her feet with a grumble and was about to take a seat when she noticed his eyes surreptitiously scanning her legs.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing much," he drawled, going back to his book.
"You were looking at my legs!"
He heaved a sigh and looked up. "What, those scrawny little drumsticks?"
"They're not scrawny!"
He smirked. But before he could retort with something undoubtedly offensive and confidence-annihilating, an elderly gentleman with long white hair walked into the classroom. He looked somewhat familiar but she couldn't place where she had seen him before.
"Pardon me," the man said with a surprisingly youthful baritone. "I was looking for Professor Snape. Is he here?"
Malfoy lowered his feet from the desk and sprang to attention. "I'm afraid he's not here at the moment, sir."
Sir? She lifted an eyebrow at his cordial tone.
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"Ah, well, thank you, lad. Sorry to have interrupted." The elder wizard offered them both a genial smile before turning to leave, but Malfoy was already on his feet and hurrying over.
"Is there something I could help you with, sir?"
The wizard stopped and regarded Malfoy with a measure of surprise, as did Ginny. She had never known Malfoy to be anything but rude and self-serving. Blatant obsequiousness was something new.
After a brief conversation, the elder wizard left and Malfoy returned to the desk. He looked a little despondent and she couldn't help but stir the pot a bit.
"I always knew Malfoys were sycophants. I just didn't realise they were this bad at it."
He turned on her, eyes like building storm clouds and seething with such contempt that she almost recoiled from him.
"You really need to learn how to keep your mouth shut, Weasley."
She felt emboldened. "Oh, I do, do I?"
"You do." He was getting dangerously close. "None of your brothers are here to defend you."
She straightened her back and glared. "I don't need them. I can take you on with one hand tied behind my back."
She was impressed with herself for having kept up the bravado despite the fact that inside she was trembling. In this very moment he actually frightened her. However, the rage that burned in his eyes a few seconds ago was already snuffed out and replaced with something else, something far more puzzling. And perhaps far more frightening.
"I'd like to see that." His voice was almost teasing.
Was he flirting with her?
His gaze went back to her legs, lingering there for a moment before returning to her eyes. "Actually, I'd like to see you with both hands tied above your head."
"W-what?"
The corners of his lips curled into a smirk and he took a step closer. Without realising it, she had withdrawn her wand and jabbed his chest with it. He didn't back away but he didn't come any closer, either.
"You remember the Bat-Bogey Hex," she said, surprised with how calm she sounded. Inside, however, she was a mess.
"Intimately."
"Then you'll keep your distance."
She jabbed harder, to emphasise her point, but he remained motionless.
"Of course." His gaze went to her lips for a moment before travelling back to her eyes. "But can you do the same?"
:::
The rest of detention had been an awkward nightmare, and the next day didn't seem as though it would fare much better. At lunch, Ginny saw the same man from the Dungeons. He was speaking with Professor McGonagall at the Professors' table.
She leaned in next to Ernie McMillan. "Who is that guy?"
"Uh, he works for the Ministry, I think. He's in charge of Azkaban."
"Azkaban? What's he doing here, then?"
"I dunno." He shrugged. "I heard he came to talk to Dumbledore about Dementors or whatnot."
"Why do you think Malfoy would want talk to someone like him?"
"To see his dad, obviously." Ernie took a bite of his sandwich. "There's no visiting hours at Azkaban, you know."
She slowly nodded in understanding and went back to her meal with a frown.
So that's why Malfoy was trying to curry favour with the old man? He wanted to be able to visit his father.
Against her better judgement, she actually felt sort of bad for Malfoy. His father belonged in prison and was undoubtedly evil—he was responsible for her being possessed by Tom Riddle, after all—but she couldn't imagine how difficult it was for Malfoy to not be able to see his father. Last December when she thought she had lost her own father, she had been devastated. The thought of never seeing him again was soul-annihilating.
Later that day when she went to serve detention, Malfoy wasn't there. Instead some Sixth Year was supervising. She should have been happy about this, but for some reason she wasn't. Although confused by this revelation, she wasn't about to question why.
:::
On Monday she had library duty. Instead of stacking books, she was slacking off in between the stacks, reading her copy of Grimms' Fairy Tales.
Just when it was getting to the good part, she heard a pair of footsteps and a girl giggling. Annoyed and slightly curious, she closed her book and crouched down, peeking between the spaces in the stacks. After a moment she saw a tall, solid frame and a flash of white-blond hair.
Malfoy.
He was with a petite-looking blonde, who Ginny recognised as Sixth Year Hufflepuff, Tandy Newman. She was hanging off him like some moonstruck cow.
"Hey, Malfoy, are you really kissing girls who ask you?"
"Only the pretty ones," he replied.
Arsehole. She rolled her eyes. Smug arseholes like him should be knocked down a few pegs.
No, stop. She wasn't getting involved. She was going to keep here in this corner, silent as a mouse, and pray to any god that would listen that they wouldn't get it on in the room with her there.
"Why, you wanna kiss?"
She gritted her teeth. Damn git. He was definitely evil.
"Sure," Tandy purred, tracing patterns on his chest. "We can go even further while we're at it."
Ginny's eyes widened like saucer plates. How randy was this girl?
The two leaned in to kiss each other and Ginny tried to back away and not look, which only resulted in her knocking into a stack of books that toppled onto her head and fell to the floor with a clatter.
The couple immediately stepped apart.
"Dammit!" she swore, clutching at her sore head.
She didn't know what to feel more embarrassed about: being caught peeping or being a clumsy idiot.
"We'll have to continue this another time," Tandy said to Malfoy, lovingly patting his chest while giving Ginny the evil eye.
When the Hufflepuff left, Malfoy sauntered over to where Ginny was still half-crouched, half-hidden, and slid his hands into his pockets.
"Can't get enough of me, eh, Weasley?"
She stood up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your bonding time with Tandy."
"Oh, I get it."
"You get what?"
"You're jealous."
If her mouth opened any wider, she'd be catching flies.
"You wish, you demented little ferret!"
His lips turned up at the corners and he took a step closer. "Call me all the names you like, Weasley, but you can't hide the fact that you want me to kiss you."
"W-what?" She backed up into the stacks. "Are you stupid? Can you not hear yourself? There's no way I'd kiss you!"
He shrugged, unaffected. "It's just a kiss."
"Kisses are for someone you like, Malfoy. They shouldn't be wasted on just anyone, especially someone you hate."
His eyes narrowed into dark slits of grey and he moved quickly. In less than a second he had her pinned between his body and the stacks, holding her face in his hands. The kiss was brief and detached, void of any sentiment, and when he broke away, she could feel herself going cold all over.
"So how did you like it?"
She was stunned, her mouth still parted from the kiss. Then she felt it all at once—the shame and the humiliation. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes and she cocked back her right fist, hooking the left side of his jaw. He fell back against the stacks, eyes wide in confused fury as he clutched his jaw.
"Ot tha 'ell, 'eas'y?"
It sounded like he was talking with a mouthful of marbles, and if she had been an outside spectator, she would have laughed. But the satisfaction she expected from punching him never came and she suspected it never would.
"I hate you!" She threw her book at him for good measure before barrelling past. "Stay the fuck away from me!"
She ran into the first girls' lavatory she came across and began washing her lips until they were raw and bleeding.
He was the worst, the absolute worst!
She wiped at her wet eyes and sniffed pathetically before washing the tears from her face with cold water. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she only saw bloodshot eyes and puffy red lips and she cried all over again. She was never going to forgive him for this. Ever.
She was really looking forward to her first kiss, too, maybe even with Harry. But Malfoy had gone and ruined it. She was never going anywhere near him again!
After a while the tears finally dried up and she inhaled several calming breaths. She was still upset but there was no use crying about it anymore. She had to get on with her life. A kiss wasn't the end of the world, even if it was with a Malfoy.
"I just don't get why Draco's doing all of this."
She cocked her head to the side and heard a pair of male voices outside the lavatory. She went over to the door and cracked it open wide enough so that she could see two Slytherin boys standing across from an empty classroom.
"She's the one who cheated on him, right? So if Draco wants to play the field, I say let him."
"Yeah, true, but his standards have really lowered."
"I dunno about that. All the girls have been pretty hot."
The two guys laughed and Ginny closed the door with a frown. So Malfoy had been dumped recently?
She sniffed angrily. So what if he was rejected? Was she supposed to feel sorry for him? He stole her first kiss!
She touched her lips again. They were still swollen, but she couldn't forget the feeling of his lips on hers. His touch was nothing like the kiss she had hoped for in her fantasies, yet those lips of his were so soft and cold.
Cold like his heart.
:::
The days went by slowly after that, and more than ever Ginny wanted to return home and enjoy what was left of her summer.
By now she was largely over Malfoy stealing her first kiss—she was keeping that secret to the grave—but she still intended to ignore the git out of spite. However, ever since the kiss he was the one doing the majority of the avoiding, like leaving the Quidditch field whenever she arrived, and for some reason this irked her.
After classes had ended for the day, she went down to the Dungeons to ask Professor Snape for some help with her homework but found Malfoy instead. He was alone, seated at Snape's desk with his feet up on the table and scribbling down something on a scroll of parchment resting on his thighs. He still had the fading marks of a bruise on the left side of his jaw and she refused to feel remotely guilty. Although the fact that he hadn't healed it yet surprised her.
He was so engrossed in his writing that he hadn't seen or heard her enter the room. She could turn back now and he'd never know, but Ginny was anything but a coward. Mustering her courage, she approached his desk and opened her Potions text.
"Hey, do you wanna show me how to do this?"
He glanced up, somewhat started by her presence. But then his eyes narrowed and he looked her over like a disgusting insect before going back to his writing.
"I'll pass."
"Pass? What do you mean pass?"
He looked up from his work. "Well, pass usually means you'd rather be doing something else. For example, I'd rather shag Longbottom than help you with something."
"You—"
"You told me to never come near you again, Weasley," he cut her off coldly. "When a crying girl screams that at you, she usually means it."
He went back to his parchment and she just stood there in stunned silence. After a moment of pure mortification, she picked up her Potions textbook and was about to leave when a Slytherin girl came into the classroom.
"Draco, Daphne's looking for you."
Malfoy's features darkened minutely. He set down his quill and parchment and stood up. Ginny watched him go, wondering if he was going to kiss Daphne, too. Then she questioned why the idea upset her in the first place.
She held her book tightly in her arms and stared at the open door. She shook her head. No. No, she shouldn't care. She didn't care. It was none of her business. Yet seconds later she found herself standing in the corridor, hiding behind a suit of armour.
The voyeur in her, the one she condemned wholeheartedly, expected to be both entertained and repulsed by the spectacle of Daphne and Malfoy snogging, but the two couldn't have been standing farther apart from one another. Malfoy had his legs spread shoulder-length apart and his arms crossed firmly over his chest, shutting the girl out. Though Daphne's face was partially obscured by how she stood, Ginny could make out Malfoy's perfectly. He didn't look angry or upset or even bored; he looked emotionless.
It was scary.
"Draco, is this kissing rumour because of me? Because we were going out when I kissed Adrian?"
Ginny frowned. Adrian? Slytherin Chaser Adrian Pucey? They were going out now because Daphne cheated on Malfoy?
"Why would you be the reason for the rumour?" he asked coldly.
"I dunno." Daphne shrugged awkwardly. "Cause we were going out and then there was that thing with your father. I guess I shouldn't have gone out with Adrian when he asked me. You needed me and I—"
"I don't care, Daph." He waved her off. "I didn't feel anything for you then and I don't feel anything for you now. Consider your conscience clean."
"Oh, o-okay then." She kept nodding in a daze. "I-if you need anything, I—"
He just walked away, leaving her in the lurch.
Cold.
Instead of returning to the classroom, however, he took off towards the stairs.
Unsure what to do at first, Ginny waited for Daphne to go after him. When she didn't, the redhead quickly followed Malfoy down the hall. But when she turned the corner, he wasn't there. She glanced around, wondering where he could have gone and why she was so concerned with finding him in the first place, when she heard banging coming from inside the boys' lavatory.
She quietly opened the door to see Malfoy kicking a metal bin.
"Dammit! They're just kisses!"
Surprised, she tried to back up to leave, but he caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and turned towards her.
"You again!" He ran his fingers through his fringe. "Why are you always following me?"
"I-I'm not always following you!" She scoffed. "What an ego you have."
He dropped his hand with a sigh and turned away. "Whatever. Just leave."
"Malfoy—"
"I said, leave!"
She didn't move.
He was on her in an instant, pinning her back against the door. But this time when he tried to kiss her, his lips found her Potions textbook instead.
"Kisses are meant for someone special," she said softly. "I gather those kisses before didn't mean anything to you, so why kiss all those girls? Do you hope to get Daphne back this way?"
His eyes darkened at the mention of his ex and his jaw clenched stubbornly in anger. He took a step back.
"This is stupid."
He pushed her out of the way and opened the door to leave. She waited a full three seconds before following him outside.
"You're actually hurt by all of this, aren't you?"
He stopped but didn't turn around.
She nervously licked her lips, remembering how cold his lips felt, and she realised that they were cold because his heart had frozen up, afraid to get hurt again.
"Deal with the pain and move on. You'll find someone else. Just—just let it go."
His shoulders shook, and for a hot second she thought he might have been crying. But when he turned around, she saw that he was laughing. There wasn't a hint of humour in that laughter.
"What the fuck would you know about any of this, Weasley? Potter won't give you the time of day."
"That's not the point."
He sneered at her. "No, the point is that I don't want to hear relationship advice from a girl who's only gone as far as holding hands with some poncy Ravenclaw. A girl who doesn't even know an orgasm from a hole in the ground isn't going to tell me how the fuck I should feel."
Her face flushed so hotly that she thought she might spontaneously combust.
"Fuck you!"
"Sorry, I don't teach."
"I'm done."
He cupped his ear and leaned forward. "Sorry, what's that? Speak up, little Gryffindor."
She balled her hands into fists. "You heard me: I'm done. I'm done with you. I'm done with trying to help you. I'm done with feeling sorry for you. I'm done with you in general. So you can stay here feeling sorry for yourself, reject anyone who tries to show you some compassion, and keep on being the biggest git this school has ever seen. See if I care!"
She promptly turned away and headed back down the corridor.
Fuck him and his unfounded arrogance and misplaced anger. She wasn't going to be anyone's punching bag. She was gone.
His hand was on her shoulder and before she knew it he had her turned around and pinned against the wall again, her textbook fallen to the floor.
"Don't ever walk away from me."
His entire body occupied her space so that she was barely able to breathe. She couldn't move, but her body seemed to vibrate with rage.
"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me."
She expected him to say something back, like an insult or a snide quip, but he just stared at her. Those mesmerising grey eyes. Those damn grey eyes.
Then he kissed her.
What was more surprising was that she kissed him back.
His hand found the back of her neck and pulled her closer to his mouth. Her own fingers reached up and speared through his hair, amazed to find how soft and silky it was. His tongue then parted her lips and explored her mouth slowly, giving her time to catch his rhythm. When she did, he pressed into her almost painfully and snaked an arm around her waist.
She could do nothing but react.
After what seemed like an eternity, he broke off the kiss and stepped back. Her eyes were still closed when he released her waist, and she tried not to slide down the wall and melt into a puddle of goo. Eventually she opened her eyes and tested her swollen lips with wonderment.
If Daphne broke up with Malfoy for his kisses, she was a damn fool.
Time crawled by, the silence deafening. They didn't look at each other for a while, both trying to figure out what had just happened. When Ginny finally found the nerve to lift her chin and meet his eyes, she saw that he was already staring at her.
She tried to search his eyes for meaning, some clue of what he felt, but they gave away nothing. A moment later he looked down and turned away, leaving her alone in the corridor with her thoughts.
:::
The rest of the week was almost unbearable. He avoided her like the plague. The moment they were in the same room together, he'd leave. He didn't even come out onto the pitch anymore. It was like they weren't even at the same school.
She should have been appreciative of him respecting her boundaries for once. She should have preferred them going back to pretending that the other didn't exist. She should have been a lot of things but wasn't.
The poison was already in her system.
:::
Not bothering to take one last look at Hogwarts, she boarded the express train home. She was ecstatic to be going back. Her birthday was coming up soon. She'd get to practise Quidditch with Fred and George. Harry and Hermione would come visit. She'd have so much fun. But the masochistic part of herself was still at Hogwarts, wanting to finish what was started with Malfoy.
Oddly enough, she wanted a truce with him.
Her compartment was empty when she stepped inside, except for a book lying on the seat next to the window. It was the fairy tale book she had thrown at Malfoy in the library. It was wrapped in a beautiful silk green ribbon and she knew exactly who had returned it.
She picked up the book and fingered the ribbon with a smile. Was this his way of saying he was sorry? She decided then and there that she had to thank him and find out. But when she made it to his compartment, she saw that he wasn't alone. Tandy Newman was inside, cosying up to him in a way that made Ginny's blood boil.
Did the girl have no shame?
Shameless herself, Ginny's first instinct was to find a place where she could observe them without being seen, and she did just that. However, as she watched the older girl fawn all over Malfoy, a familiar pang of jealousy stirred inside her chest, sort of like when she saw Cho kissing Harry.
What was wrong with her? Why was she jealous of some slag trying to snog Malfoy? And why couldn't she take her eyes off him?
"Let's continue where we left off," Tandy said, tracing an index finger along Malfoy's jaw. "And maybe a little more since we have this compartment all to ourselves."
Ginny gritted her teeth and found herself reaching for her wand when Malfoy took Tandy's hands off his face and dropped them.
"I'd rather not," he said. "Especially with someone like you."
Ginny saw the slap coming before she heard it, but she still winced in sympathy.
"Bastard!"
No more words were exchanged after that. Tandy slid open the door and took off in a huff. Once the coast was clear, Ginny came out of her hiding spot and disappeared into Malfoy's compartment. The blond was lying on the bench with his eyes closed and a bright red mark on his cheek.
"Come to talk about kisses again, Weasley?"
She smiled, somewhat happy that he knew it was her. She closed the compartment door and leaned over him, inspecting his battle wound.
"Did she slap you hard enough to get that poison out of you?"
He sighed with all the pathos of a Greek hero. "It's not going to fall out of my mouth like a poisoned apple."
"You read it?"
He answered her question with silence, and by throwing an arm across his eyes.
She set the book down on the bench. "Thanks for returning it."
"Whatever," he grumbled.
"So why didn't you kiss her?"
The question left her mouth before she could take it back. It wasn't any of her business, and he'd probably let her know that as rudely as possible. But he didn't say anything, not for a long while, not even a sigh. She was about to pick up her book and leave when he spoke.
"It felt empty," he said, moving his arm up to his forehead. "I feel empty."
She sat down and patiently waited for him to continue.
"It's not like kissing other girls will make me forget what Daphne did to me or how I felt about her. It's not like coming back here was going to make me forget about my father and where he is right now. It's just—life's hard sometimes, you know?" He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's hard."
She opened her mouth to speak but inhaled a quiet gasp instead. Her heart fluttered so wildly in its bone cage that she trembled. She could hear it in her ears, that ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump. It was deafening.
What was this feeling?
Her hand clutched at her chest. It felt like her heart was locked in a vice. It was almost too painful to bear. She tried to fight it but it was no use. The poison was already spreading throughout her body.
She remembered this feeling. It was sympathy. It was compassion. It was longing to accept and be accepted. It was finding understanding in another person.
She knew what it was like to care for someone who didn't feel the same way, and she was sure that Daphne didn't leave Malfoy because of his kisses. It was because Adrian's feelings had deeply touched her through his kiss, and vice versa.
A kiss said so much more than words.
And then she began to wonder . . . That poisoned apple in his throat—could she remove it for him?
She found herself standing over him, bending down so low that their lips almost touched. He opened his eyes and just stared at her with those cold grey eyes, first with surprise, momentary disgust and finally understanding.
And longing.
She would remove the poison from his soul, and he would let her.
"For a long time she stood gazing at his face, so full of sorrow and pain, but also so lovely and sweet that she felt a spring to her heart, that love she had always been searching for but never found until now.
"Overcome with emotion, the princess bent down and gently kissed his lips. At that, the prince opened his eyes, awoken by true love's kiss."
Author's notes: Beta'd by SunnyStorms. Ta, darlin'.
Challenge Parameters
Setting: Summer School
Fic era: Hogwarts
Line/phrase: "I always knew Malfoys were sycophants. I just didn't realise they were this bad at it."
Object that needs to be in the fic: Short shorts