Gryffindors are red,
Ravenclaws are blue,
I don't look good in yellow,
So Slytherin will have to do.
Ginny paused, brushing her quill across her lips absentmindedly as she reread her poem. "Well that's shite," she concluded, murmuring to herself. "Not only unromantic but a little offensive." She shook her head.
"Though on the other hand, I do suppose that sums up our relationship quite neatly," she mused. Ginny lay on her stomach, in bed in Gryffindor Tower, kicking her legs up and down. She stared down at her careless scrawl for a few moments longer before shrugging and reaching for the card she had bought. It sat on the opposite side of her bedside dresser, just barely out of reach. She ran her hands down her sides and under her pillow, searching for her wand; she spied it on the floor, atop the growing pile of dirty clothes.
Ginny grumbled to herself and reached towards her wand, only to find that it, too, was unreachable. "Accio," she whispered at it, willing it to fly to her.
No luck. "Completely useless in my time of need," she growled. "I bet Harry's wand would have come to him."
She rolled over then, intending to get just close enough to her wand without actually getting up… only to find that she had severely miscalculated the width of her bed.
Ginny landed with a thump on the floor and groaned, rubbing her bum as she finally grasped her wand. "Accio card!" she said forcefully – and it flew straight into her face. She gasped, her eyes watering, and heard muffled laughter from the bed next to hers.
Ginny's year-mate poked her head out of the hangings of her four-poster. Ginny glared at Charlotte for laughing, but the other girl only rolled her eyes. "That's what you get for making all that bloody noise this time of night," Charlotte told her. "Now belt up before I Silencio you myself."
Ginny continued glaring. "It is not my fault you just told me it was Valentine's Day tomorrow! Well, today, now," she added, glancing at the clock, which read half three in the morning.
"No, but it's your fault you forgot in the first place. And it's not like that great bloody git will care anyway," she finished. "Now good night." And with that, Charlotte disappeared back into her bed.
Ginny sighed and stashed the card – and its evidence of her shoddy poetry – in the envelope which read Draco Malfoy. She decided she'd fix it in the morning – or, more likely, just toss it in the bin and give him a good snog for the holiday.
Nodding decisively to herself, Ginny tossed the envelope back onto her dresser and fell into bed, sprawling herself across it.
As usual, she woke up late, and scrambled to find clean knickers and throw her robe on over them. Ginny dashed to the door, hoping there was still at least toast left in the Great Hall. If not, she wouldn't be able to eat until after Potions, for which she needed the extra caloric fortitude.
She suddenly remembered her poem when she was almost to the common room and stopped in mid-step on the stairs. "Oh, bloody hell," Ginny cursed, running back up to her room. She skidded to a halt in front of her dresser – but the envelope was nowhere to be seen. "What in the name of Merlin – ?" She looked around, thinking maybe she had placed it somewhere else, but saw nothing.
Finally the growling of her stomach overruled her confusion, and she turned, passing her freshly-laundered clothes as she sprinted back downstairs to the dining hall.
Fortunately, Ginny was not quite as late to breakfast as she thought she was; not only was she able to snag a piece of toast, but also put jam on it, knock back a glass of orange juice, and grab two pieces of bacon to go, preferring to get a head start on making her way up to Divination.
Unfortunately, she was waylaid almost immediately upon exiting the Great Hall. Fortunately, it was by someone by whom she didn't mind being – er, waylaid.
"Weasley," Draco said smoothly, grabbing her arm as she passed the alcove in which he was waiting. He pulled her in front of him and looked down at her, his grey eyes rooting her to the spot. "When I heard "Fresh-Pickled Toads" all those years ago, I never dreamed that one day such ardor and passion would be turned on me, that I would receive such a well-written, deep poem to rival even eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley's attempts to ensnare Harry Potter."
He paused for effect; she gaped at him, her wide-eyed face rapidly darkening in embarrassment. "How – " she began to ask, but Draco put a finger to her lips.
"Shh," he whispered. "You don't have to say anything. I know, now, how you truly feel."
"Draco," Ginny whined, aware that she sounded like a third-year with her first boyfriend. Or perhaps like Parkinson. She continued anyway – it was Valentine's Day, after all. If she got one day a year to act absolutely ridiculous, it would be the fourteenth of February. "How did you get that? You weren't supposed to – I was just going to snog you, maybe buy you some chocolate."
"But this, Ginny – this is so much better than that. This is something I can treasure forever – perhaps even frame. I bet my mother would stitch it into a pillow for me, and then I can sleep with it. And ten years from now, you'll be a world-renowned poet and I'll be able to show it off. Charge people a Galleon just to read it. When I die, my children will donate it to the museum erected – " Draco meant to continue, she knew, until her entire body was red and she ignited from the humiliation, so she stopped him the only way she knew how – with her mouth.
Ginny pressed her lips to his, hard, cutting off his voice. He swallowed any protest he had when her tongue thrust between his lips and her hips pushed his back into the alcove from which he had emerged. She sat him on the window ledge and straddled him, kissing Draco fiercely until his hands began to roam underneath her robes. She suddenly realized that they were right outside the Great Hall and anyone could catch them as they left breakfast – Merlin forbid, Ron or Snape could have seen them – and she leapt backwards off of his lap, still blushing.
"Well that worked out even better than I had intended," Draco gloated, smirking devilishly. Ginny growled at him, but he merely laughed. "Gin, don't be ridiculous."
"You weren't supposed to get it – I was going to toss it – did you sneak into my dorm?" she demanded, remembering that she hadn't given him the card. "How on earth did you sneak into my room, and why didn't you wake me up?"
"Yes," Draco drawled. "I snuck into my girlfriend's bedroom to steal a lousy poem – excuse me, priceless work of art – and rather than wake her up for a shag, I laundered her foul clothes and left quietly. No, you bint. The house elves must have delivered it for you when they did the wash."
"Oh," she said, and then paused, trying to think of something clever to say. But she was too tired. "Girlfriend, eh?" Ginny tried not to smile too broadly.
Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. She hated when he did this – mostly because she didn't know how to do it herself. "Yes, well, that's your Valentine's Day gift."
"Well it's not quite as good as a poem, but it'll do," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Cheerio, boyfriend. See you at lunch." Ginny grinned cheekily and scampered off.
As she endured the stifling atmosphere in Trelawney's classroom – why hadn't Harry, Ron, orHermione warned her against this class? – Ginny composed another poem in her notes.
Draco
Sexy, Smartish
Snogging, Teasing, Shagging
That's why we're together.
Probably.
When the Professor dismissed the class with a foreboding look and a warning to stay away from tin cans, Ginny stuffed the parchment into her textbook, which she threw into her bag without thought, racing downstairs to make it to Double Potions on time.
Though she and the rest of her class technically weren't late, everyone else had already taken their seats and were quietly preparing to take notes. Perhaps for this reason – or perhaps because it was Valentine's Day, and he loathed the idea of letting them be happy – Snape assigned them twice as much homework as he normally would have. They left in low spirits.
Sighing regretfully, Ginny turned away from the Great Hall and headed to the library, knowing she needed all the time she could get to finish all of her essays. She carefully selected her favorite table in the corner and set her back to the wall so that she had plenty of opportunity to people-watch during her study breaks.
"Bloody mad old biddy," she muttered quietly as she took out her Divination materials, hoping not to attract the attention of Madam Pince but incapable of keeping silent the whole time she wrote an essay.
"My girlfriend, talking to herself in public. How charming," Draco said drolly, settling himself in front of her at the table, blocking her view of the rest of the people in the library. He always had to make sure he was the center of her attention.
"Draco, what are you doing here? How did you find me?" Ginny asked; she was already more than willing to take a break, now that she had written her name on the parchment in front of her.
"Lucky guess, I suppose. I'm always able to find the great artists in the building," he drawled lazily, leaning back and sprawling his legs out. Somehow Draco still managed to look put-together. Ginny looked like she belonged on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's.
She scowled at him, her break suddenly over. "I have to work, Draco," she said prissily.
"I brought you food," he announced, tossing her his bag.
Her eyes lit up as she opened it. "Oh, Draco, sandwiches and cake and a flask of pumpkin juice! Best boyfriend award." His self-satisfied smirk disappeared when Ginny stuffed a sandwich into her mouth, chewing noisily as she read over her notes.
"Here, I'll help you." Unable to watch the spectacle any longer, Draco reached for her notes.
"No, that's okay," she said thickly, swallowing the food in her mouth. "You haven't taken Divination."
"Oh, Divination? Perfect, I can make it all up." He pulled her notes towards him. "Weasley, your handwriting is atrocious. Honestly…" he muttered, trailing off as he squinted in an effort to decipher it. He cocked his head as he reached the bottom of the page in order to follow what she had written.
"Smartish? That's so complimentary of you. I had no idea you felt so strongly about me."
"What?" she asked absentmindedly as she started in on her cake.
"Your poem… I must really inspire you, because this one is also gold." He was grinning mockingly as she looked up, her eyes widening as she realized what he must have found.
"You definitely weren't supposed to see that one! Give it back, Draco, let me erase it." Ginny stood up, knocking her chair over as she did so, and grabbed for the page he held in his hands. Draco leaned back in his chair, holding it out of reach. Madam Pince glared at her from her desk and Ginny sat down in the chair next to her. "Come on, Draco, give it here," she whispered.
"I see it says shagging here, Weasley. Something you want to talk to me about?" Draco asked archly.
Ginny felt her face turning red again. "Not anymore," she bit out, pulling her books towards her and opening her bag.
"Oh come now, Gin, I'm just teasing you. You don't have to leave." She ignored him, and Draco stood up and walked around the table. He leaned over her things and put a hand on her arm. "Ginny," he said softly. "Please stay."
Ginny looked up into his grey eyes and sighed long-sufferingly. "Fine," she conceded finally. "But you're writing my essay."
He shook his head, amused. "Deal. But you have to write me another poem."
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Draco, but then smirked. "I know just the thing," she promised.
The table was surprisingly quiet as they both worked diligently on their tasks. Draco wrote quickly but neatly, while Ginny scrawled across the paper, scratching out lines frequently.
When Ginny finished her haiku, she looked up triumphantly; she was certain he'd be working for the rest of the lunch hour. She was rather taken aback to find him staring at her expectantly. "Are you finished?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes, of course," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Let's see it."
"Essay first," she bargained, but he shook his head.
"Absolutely not," he declared. "What's to say you won't crumple that poem up as soon as I hand over your Divination homework? You're first." Draco gestured towards her in clear invitation, and Ginny gave in, sliding the parchment to her boyfriend.
They said he's a git.
I said he's deeper than that.
Now I see, he's not.
"You've really out-done yourself on this one, Gin," he began, smirking. "I feel so reviled! I might sue for defamation of character. But your emotions really shine through. My Ginny, so impressive."
This time she didn't blush but instead just smirked back at him. "Yes, I'm glad you can see how I truly feel."
Draco nodded in agreement. "Now allow me to show you how I feel," he suggested, sliding his own parchment towards her.
Ginny glanced down at it and then back up at him. "I thought you were writing my essay!" she cried in dismay.
He scoffed. "I did write your essay. I had extra time. Now read it," he commanded.
"How did you have time to write this and my essay, but I only managed to write three lines – one lousy haiku?" she demanded, ignoring his tone as she waved the paper in front of his face.
"I suppose I'm just extremely talented," he quipped, shrugging. "Now read! Please." She obeyed.
Ginny, darling, forgive my trespasses.
I dream, at night, of seeing you that day.
You're all I can think of in my classes.
I'm glad to know you, too, feel this way.
Even though I have yet to undress you,
I know your breasts are perfect, your skin soft.
I long for you in my bed – and floor, too.
Enter you as I hold your legs aloft.
I know as you read this your skin will flush,
the blood darkening your face and your breast.
My favorite thing is to make you blush.
Such softness should never go uncaressed.
Ginny, please be mad at me no longer.
When we're together, I feel stronger.
Before she was even halfway through it, Ginny was tomato red and Draco was grinning broadly. She pursed her lips at him, trying to keep from smiling, but couldn't maintain her demeanor. She launched herself across the table and affixed herself to his lips. She murmured between kisses, "You're wonderful. Thank you. Your poetry is as lousy as mine! Let's revisit shagging."
But before he could respond the librarian had descended upon them, screeching, "Out! Out of my library! Defilers of knowledge! Have you no shame?"
Giggling, Ginny shoved all of her books into her bag and grabbed her boyfriend's hand, running from the library. And after classes were over, they revisited shagging.
