Author's Note: This is fluff. I'm warning you now. The idea just struck me as I was walking to class, contemplating hickeys. I couldn't resist. Draco is completely out of character… although that's the point. There is no plot. No character development. No storyline, thoughts, or emotions. It's just there.

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Ginny froze.

Midsentence, she just stopped. Her unblinking eyes were fixed on a point just beyond Ron's head, and she didn't move. She didn't even breathe.

Draco Malfoy had just entered the Great Hall. Draco Malfoy in Muggle clothing. He was wearing jeans and a black fitted tee that only served to accentuate his lean frame. Like his clothing, the dark purple bruise on is neck contrasted sharply with his pale skin and the white-blond hair that was left loose, for once.

But, aside from this, aside from the clothing, the hickey, the hair…

There was something else. Something that had the entirety of the Great Hall frozen in its seat – stunned.

Draco Malfoy was smiling. Not a smirk, not a sneer, not a malicious look promising pain, suffering, and fun for him. An easy-going grin that lit up his entire face, making his mercurial eyes sparkle. All eyes watched as he casually swung his legs over the bench of Slytherin table and sat down to breakfast.

It was Pansy Parkinson who finally broke the silence when she leaned toward the boy sitting next to her and tentatively asked, "Draco?"

He didn't respond.

This, of course, only served to heighten the whispers rapidly spreading through the Great Hall.

"He's possessed."

"He's cracked."

"He's smiling."

"He's hot."

"Did you see his neck!"

"He was attacked."

"Who did it?"

"I wish I had."

Completely ignoring the barely contained rumors and accusations flying around her, Ginny watched Draco, as she often did. He didn't turn to anyone; he didn't talk to anyone; he just ate, and he never stopped smiling. For all intents and purposes, he was completely alone in his own little world – smiling.

"He's planning something."

"He's insane."

He was insane. What the hell did he think he was doing? Ginny couldn't believe it. So much for secrecy.

Silence reigned once more as Draco stood up. One would have expected him to leave, but the fact of the matter was, no one knew what to expect anymore. Not one to disappoint, Draco strolled over to Gryfinndor. He sat down on the bench next to, of all people, Ginny Weasley. Facing the opposite direction and leaning back against the table, Draco stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. Eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth, Draco turned to face the red-head.

"Hey."

"Hi," she breathed, her voice a mixture of caution and bemusement. Her eyes darted to the side to see Harry and Hermione grab her brother and hold him firmly in place.

Turning, Draco faced her fully, looking into her eyes. Leaning in, he confided, "So, I have this theory. I think I've been an insufferable git all these years just because I've really, really, needed to get laid."

The corner of Ginny's mouth kicked up, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting out in laughter.

"When you were eleven?"

Draco looked skyward and slightly bit his lip. Damn, he was being distracting.

"Well…" he drawled.

"One might argue that I'd never really been happy before, and you-make-me-happy, BUT," he met her eyes once more and asserted, "I really think I just needed to get laid."

"So," he said, standing abruptly, "Wanna go to Hogsmeade?"

She couldn't help smiling as she took the hand being proffered.

"Certainly."

She couldn't resist. As she stood, she leaned over and placed her lips upon the dark blemish on his neck, sucking lightly. Pulling back, she grinned wickedly. Draco smirked at her, and together they exited the Great Hall – smiling.

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