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Chapter One
June Goddess
No one really noticed at first. Draco Malfoy, Sixth Year Slytherin, had never been very talkative while eating, after all, but soon Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, also Sixth Year Slytherins, became suspicious of his constant preoccupation during meal times. He ate absentmindedly, rarely spoke to his Housemates, and his gaze was always turned to the Gryffindor table. More damning, he never said or did anything to that table's occupants. He just watched.
"What could he be looking at, Blaise?" Pansy queried under her breath. She barely moved her lips and was careful not to look at either the boy to whom she was speaking or the boy of whom she was speaking. She was quite paranoid of the members of her House. She drank from her goblet of pumpkin juice to mask the slight opening of her mouth.
A lazy tour of Italian black eyes scanned the Gryffindor table. He smirked at a boy who noticed, and winked at the girl next to him, who blushed magenta. He watched as the boy angrily faced the girl. He could not hear the conversation between the two, but he knew by the looks on their faces that they were quarrelling. He snorted and drank from his own goblet of pumpkin juice.
"No idea," he breathed. He turned his searching gaze on the blonde Slytherin of their speculation. It went unnoticed due to the other's focus in another direction, but still earned him a sharp kick from Pansy. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. All her cloak-and-dagger paranoia was mildly entertaining at best, extremely irritating at worst.
For the three weeks of the new school year, this conversation was repeated every day during the meals spent in the Great Hall until the Tuesday before Halloween. It was at the beginning of this dinner that one Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor stalked into the Great Hall, flushing angrily and trailed by a nervous Harry Potter and a concerned Hermione Granger.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" the red-haired boy shouted. Silence stole over the Hall's occupants, and many people paused in their eating. Heads turned automatically to watch this promising scene unfold.
Ginevra Molly Weasley, however, ignored her brother. She continued eating and chatting with Colin Creevey, one of her two best friends. He looked rather gray, though, when he spied her brother's angry face, and started shooting nearly petrified glances behind Ginny's shoulder as Ron came to a halt behind her. His skin was a mottled and bright red, his blue eyes furious, his fists clenching and unclenching in spastic twitches. On the whole, he presented a rather forbidding, if comical, figure. Forbidding, that is, to everyone but his younger sister.
"Ginevra!" he shouted again, annoyance tingeing his tone as she ignored him. More heads had turned at this second shout, curious as to what this Ginevra had done to bring out such an interesting shade of red in Ron's complexion.
This time, the girl did not ignore him. Instead she rose from her seat, stepped over the bench, and coolly regarded the irate boy with a cocked eyebrow and crossed arms. Twin blossoms of pink in her cheeks belied her composure, and her eyes were smoldering.
"What?" she snapped, her voice carrying across the silent Hall. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors alike cringed at her tone, though for different reasons. Hufflepuffs preferred civilized and peaceful negotiations. They were quite averse to confrontations, as this was proving to be. Gryffindors, on the other hand, had been present for too many releases of the famous Weasley temper. They knew that whatever had set the two Weasleys off this time was fast turning into a full-fledged row.
Ron quivered and nearby goblets shook alarmingly. "You know what!" Still shouting, he was now pointing an accusing finger, also quivering, in her face.
It was inches from her nose.
Colin started pushing on the Gryffindor next to him, trying to slide further down the table from the fighting siblings. Hermione clasped and unclasped her hands, looking first at one redhead then the other. Harry let his gaze wander around the room, searching for some focal point to keep him out of this fight. Fred and George, the Weasley twins, shared a wary glance. Students craned their necks to watch the siblings.
Ginny's eyebrows snapped down and her eyes narrowed dangerously at the finger, still quivering, in her face. "Get your finger," she warned, "out of my face." Though not shouting, her voice was dripping venom and was much more unnerving to the students than her brother's bellowing voice.
"No!" He was, unfortunately, still shouting. And quivering. The plates along all four House tables started to rattle ominously.
Colin was practically climbing on the Gryffindor next to him, desperate to put some distance between himself and the angry redheads. Hermione was wringing her hands, her eyes darting from redhead to redhead. Harry was seemingly fascinated by the enchanted ceiling. Fred and George rose as one to move down the table to their siblings. Students waited on baited breath, leaning slightly away from their tables.
"No?" Her voice had turned soft and deadly. Her eyes flashed dangerously. Quicker than sight could process, she had her wand drawn and at the ready. Inches from his own nose.
Ron went cross-eyed, training his vision on the wand pointed between his eyes. A trace of unease leaked into his angry eyes.
Colin, hysterical, gave up on all pretense and dove under the table. Hermione moaned and buried her face into her hands, peeking between her fingers. Harry was naming the constellations visible on the ceiling. Fred and George halted abruptly a few feet from the quartet, eyes riveted on Ginny's wand. Students stilled as though by magic.
She stared at him unblinkingly. "Draw your wand," she commanded. "I'd prefer to not face an unarmed opponent – though it won't do you much good." She smirked nastily.
He appeared to think for a moment, and then he smirked in return, a triumphant look in his eyes. "No." He was no longer shouting. Or quivering. The goblets and plates were still quaking, though, and the utensils added their quiet clinks.
A squeaky "Bloody hell!" came from under the table. Hermione moaned louder, her eyes as wide as saucers and her fingernails digging into the flesh of her unnaturally pale face. Harry turned around, fully absorbed in counting the stars with a newly discovered interest. He did not really know many constellations, after all, despite his Astronomy classes. Fred and George sighed in resignation before backing up a several feet knowing what was to come. Students gasped and a few dropped their eating utensils, which took up clinking alongside their mates.
An eyebrow climbed her forehead. "No?" she questioned, as though tasting the word.
"No," he repeated firmly, confidently.
She sighed. "Very well." She smiled sweetly, a dimple in her left cheek.
A flash of light erupted from her wand and hit him squarely on the forehead. His face was covered in the giant flapping wings of her infamous Bat Bogey Hex. The force of the flapping wings sent him sprawling ungracefully to the ground, and he was clawing at his face futilely and shouting again. She watched a few moments, satisfaction written on her face, before turning and resuming her seat on the bench. She began eating as though she had never been interrupted.
Colin's red face popped up between Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, several seats down and his nose bleeding. Hermione looked torn between helping Ron and keeping far away from his flailing limbs and flapping bogeys. Harry was shuffling past the twins still counting stars. Fred mumbled "Silencio!" and George muttered "Wingardium Leviosa!" and they took their flailing and shouting brother out of the Great Hall, followed by Hermione, who pulled the star-counting Harry by his robes. Students watched this strange procession, glanced at the youngest Weasley, and slowly returned to eating their forgotten dinner with their unmoving utensils and plates, speculating furiously the reason for Ron's upset.
Several moments passed before dinner was once more in full swing. The Slytherins laughed derisively in remembrance of the hex placed upon the Weasel King. Pansy was scowling, not pleased with the interruption, and complained to Blaise loudly of the antics of the Weasley family. Blaise was smirking, thoroughly amused by those same antics, and listened to Pansy's rant with one ear. As she fumed about the "indecorous" and "foul-tempered brood," he turned to Draco to gain a second opinion.
At the look on Draco's face, however, his smirk and amused eyes slid into a blank mask. He allowed his gaze to follow the blonde's across the Hall. Draco was smiling curiously, his unblinking eyes arrested on Ginny Weasley. Blaise's eyes snapped back to his friend, disbelief niggling in his thoughts.
He nudged Pansy, not gently, with his foot under the table. She glared at him, mouth falling open with every intention of berating him for what was sure to be a bruise on her ankle. He pointed his chin in the direction of the Hall entrance. They stood and sauntered from the Hall, nodding to their Housemates in passing. Once they were within the walls of their common room, Pansy crossed her arms as Blaise gazed into the fire.
"Well?" As ever, she was impatient. Her fingers were tapping against her arms.
Blaise continued to watch the fire, his blank face turning thoughtful. After a few more seconds, he turned to his companion. She stilled her fingers, willing her body to relax. "He was watching the She-Weasel," he announced quietly, waiting for her reaction.
He did not have to wait long, though it was not quite what he expected. Her arms dropped to her sides and she stepped back, startled. Then she laughed. She laughed so hard she sank onto a green velvet-covered chaise and she clutched her stomach. He watched bemusedly as her laughter faded to chuckles, which faded to the occasional giggle. She wiped at the corner of her eyes, still giggling somewhat. She looked up at him, her eyes still laughing. "All right, you have my attention. So, what was he really looking at?" she asked curiously. A smile tugged at her lips.
A flash of pity welled inside him as he watched her with her mirthful eyes. She was hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy, a boy who could not be less interested in her romantically. He sighed and let his eyes fall shut wearily. He dropped next to her on the chaise and covered one of her hands with his own. He blinked his eyes open and looked at her fire-lit features.
"Pansy," he started, gently, "he was staring at Ginny Weasley." His lips quirked. "Or, I suppose her name is Ginevra Molly Weasley." At her continued unchanged features, he licked his lips and continued, "You know, the Fifth Year Gryffindor. She plays a mean Chaser in Quidditch, though she's not a bad Seeker." He knew he was verging on babbling, but Pansy's face was unnerving him more than a little. "I think she dated a Ravenclaw last year. And Thomas, the Gryff from our year, I think she's dating him now. I see them together a lot. But I don't really know for sure." He shrugged apologetically, as though his lack of knowledge and interest in the Weasley girl's love life was his fault.
He wrenched his eyes away from Pansy's to study a scene of glory depicted on a tapestry, but he could still feel her gaze on him, crawling beneath his skin. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders, tucking her head under his chin. He stroked her arm soothingly. "I'm sorry," he quietly told her. "If I could make it so it wasn't true, I would. On Salazar's bones, I hate for him to be staring at any Gryffindor, let alone a Weasley."
She stirred slightly. "Do you think… that maybe he was just looking at her tonight because of the display she and that brother of hers put on? I mean, everyone else was staring at her, so that could be it. Right?" Her voice was hesitant at first but gained momentum. She had a valid point, but for the look in Draco's eyes earlier.
He watched the fire flicker shadows around the common room. They were the only occupants. His silence spoke for him, and her breathing hitched. For the next half hour, he held her as she grieved, knowing at last that the object of her affections would never return her feelings. He murmured soothing sounds above her ear, stroked her hair, and pressed light kisses to her temple. He escorted her to the girls' dormitory entrance and watched her disappear just as the first students came back from the Great Hall.
Instead of going to his own dormitory, Blaise left the common room to walk the halls. He kept away from the crowded avenues, seeking solace. He wanted peace to think about the night's events. Pansy's pain was mostly her own doing, as their friend had never really shown much interest beyond a casual relationship. The dark-eyed Italian knew Draco would not mind having Pansy as a friend – a real friend, – but the girl had never wanted just friendship from the Slytherin Prince. He sighed heavily. It was all so convoluted. He continued to meander aimlessly.
Draco, meanwhile, followed a certain redhead as she strolled arm-in-arm with Luna Lovegood to the Ravenclaw quarters. She had dismissed Colin before engaging in what he assumed was girl talk with the strange girl often nicknamed "Loony Lovegood."
Ginny and Luna discussed the latest Quibbler issue, in which some new fantastical creature or other was documented. They also spoke of Colin and his obsession with photography, and the unfairness of Professor Snape. Their chatting led them to boys, as many conversations with teenage girls do, and they picked which boys they found cutest this year. Luna, true to form, proclaimed Harry and Ronald her favorites and Ginny giggled. She agreed that Harry was cute, but she was dating Dean Thomas, so she thought him to be cute, too. Blaise Zabini was also rather striking, she mentioned. Luna also thought so, but she believed Draco Malfoy was more appealing than Blaise, a comment to which Ginny wrinkled her nose in distaste and declared his personality too wretched to make him viable for being attractive at all.
Too soon, the girls were parted, and Ginny took a few short-cuts to Gryffindor Tower so she would not need to backtrack. She never noticed her silent shadow stalking her with gleaming silver eyes. She met Dean outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, and they hugged briefly. He glanced up and down the corridors, also not seeing Ginny's shadow, and proceeded to pull her by the hand to a nearby alcove, hidden from view and very useful as a snogging hideout.
Draco smirked from the shadows. If he waited till curfew, he could dock points, as he was a Slytherin Prefect. He settled into a comfortable lounging position, eyes not straying from the alcove. About two minutes before curfew, the pair emerged. Ginny glanced right and left as she straightened her uniform and robes. She ran her fingers through her mussed hair, gave Dean a quick peck on the lips, and dashed across the hall to the portrait. Her voice was breathless as she whispered the password, and her cheeks were flushed as the light from the common room reached her in the corridor. She climbed in quickly.
The portrait closed and Draco looked to find Dean straightening his own robes. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips, and was unhurried as five minutes ticked past. Just as Dean appeared ready to step up to the portrait, Draco briskly strode from the shadows, hiding a wince as his left leg protested the motion after so long being still. Dean caught sight of him and froze.
The Slytherin faked a start of surprise. "Out after curfew?" he gasped. "Tsk, tsk. I'm afraid that's ten points from Gryffindor." He shook his head in mock disappointment, his silver eyes gleeful, a condescending smirk stretching his pale lips.
He walked past the spluttering boy and leisurely made his way to the Great Hall entrance. He turned to go to the dungeons when Blaise fell into step with him.
"Draco," Blaise greeted.
"Blaise," Draco returned. He glanced at his long-time friend. "What are you doing out? Were you snogging that Hufflepuff chit you've been eyeing?"
Blaise did not reply, only continued walking through the entrance to the dungeons.
Draco frowned. "What's wrong?" he queried. He still received no reply. He placed a hand lightly on the dark-haired boy's arm, pulling both of them to a stop. "What is it?"
Blaise looked at him for a moment. "It's Pansy. She was upset earlier." His voice held no inflection.
The blonde rolled his eyes. "She's always upset." They continued walking. "What was it this time? Was Flitwick upset she's horrible at Charms? Did she break the heel of a favorite shoe?"
Blaise carefully schooled his voice to be completely natural. "No, it wasn't anything like that. She just noticed you were watching the Weaslette all through dinner." If he had not been watching the boy's every nuance and movement, he would have missed seeing the other's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "She wasn't the only one to notice, either." Those eyes flickered slightly.
"Oh?" His voice was studied casualness. He supposed he had not really been quite discreet in watching her, but for Pansy to notice… And who else noticed?
"Yeah." He let his hand fall to Draco's arm, and they stopped once more. His dark eyes searched the other's light. "So why were you?"
Those light eyes became veiled. "Why was I what?" he parried coolly.
Frustrated, he rephrased his question. "Why were you watching the Weaslette?" He kept his dark eyes on the other boy's pointed features.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Zabini." He paused for a beat. "After all, this is a Weasley we're talking about. Aside from that slightly interesting show Weasel King and his sister put on, there was no reason to look in their direction." All this said with scorn, spoken as though dragged from his lips as he would rather speak of anything other than a blood traitor.
Blaise watched him for a moment longer. He smiled slightly. "Yeah. You're right. Pansy's just insanely jealous over you. I'm sure she was just exaggerating."
They continued laughing and joking as they passed through the common room and to the boys' dormitory. They stopped talking altogether when they reached their dorm, out of respect for their sleeping dorm mates. Quickly changing into sleepwear, they climbed into their beds and pulled their curtains shut with softly muttered good nights.
A certain blonde fell asleep thinking of melting brown eyes and fiery hair.
A certain brunette, knowing he had been lied to was determined to uncover Draco's reason for watching a Weasley. With a half-formed plan in mind, he resolved to tell Pansy in the morning and he fell asleep, dead to the world as all deep sleepers are.
