A/N: Eventually I WILL update Defeated We Rise, but I've been itching to write a Dr/G for a long, long time, and simple couldn't resist any longer! The story is loosely based on my own life (very loosely!) and Ginny is also loosely modeled off of a combination of myself and Shirley Manson (lead for the band Garbage). This story is pretty simple, and will probably only be a few chapters long…so I should finish it!!
DESIRE"Listen, Weasley, I don't know why you even bother showing up at dances. You can't afford a proper dress, and you've got such a fat ass you can't look good in anything anyways."
Ginny sat up in her bed after hours of crying over the words of Draco Malfoy. She glanced down at her stomach and pinched a rather large roll of fat on her abdomen. She had six older brothers who were all as thin as beanpoles and tall as mountains, and somehow she'd come out short and round, with a ski slope nose, bright green eyes and the signature mass of Weasley red hair.
Her cheeks flamed in a mixture of anger and shame as his words played over in her head. She hadn't meant to cross paths with him, and it wasn't as if she'd actually run into him—she'd caught herself just time. But it was all the same to him, she was a year younger, a Weasley, ugly, and he knew one word out of his mouth could make her cry. He'd been at it all year now, turning most of his malice away from the 'Dream Team' and managing to focus all of it on her.
She'd tried ignoring him, she'd tried threatening him, she'd even tried being nice to him—although that tactic hadn't lasted long. It didn't help that she didn't have any friends to back her up; once in awhile Ron would beat Malfoy to a pulp, but it was more for his own satisfaction than her protection.
Ginny sighed and glanced at her clock. It told her that Marie and Vanessa were on their way back from the dance—no doubt filled with giggles and endless accounts of who they danced with. She decided glumly that she didn't really feel like smiling and listening while they talked about things she would never be lucky enough to experience, so she hopped off of her bed, gathered a towel, her pajamas, and her bubble bath, and headed to the prefects' bathroom.
She may have been shy and invisible to most, but she was by far the most intelligent girl in her grade and third only to Hermione Granger and Malfoy. Because of this, she'd been transferred into some sixth year classes, including Potions, which was her forte. It was around this time that Malfoy had started teasing her relentlessly, trying to save face after she completed a difficult potion and he failed miserably. She had also been made a prefect and took advantage of her privileges as prefect as often as possible by indulging in the luxurious bathroom set aside for them.
Ginny soaked in the large tub, long enough for her hands and feet to turn to prunes, and planned her revenge. She'd taken shit from Malfoy for over six months now, and she refused to take any more. It didn't matter that she told herself this every time he said anything to her—this time would be different, she meant hell.
She was a sweet girl, amiable and friendly, and almost everyone liked her, but no one really cared to get to know her or take care of her. They took her at face value, all smiles and intelligence, and didn't catch the flash of her green eyes or the tears she showered on her pillow every night.
She reflected that she hadn't always been fat—in fact, she'd been as thin as any of her brothers until that fateful first year at Hogwarts. After her encounter with Tom Riddle, she'd been haunted and turned to food for comfort. Ginny ruminated on this point, and thought to herself, 'I used to be a first rate dancer. If I could only lose the weight, I bet I could get Malfoy back in ways he never imagined. I'll show him a fat ass." With this she got out of the tub, dried off and slipped on Ron's old Chudley Cannons pajamas, twisting her waist-length red hair into a bun and heading back to bed.
"Ginny, you really should have more than a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast for breakfast. Are you feeling alright?" Hermione looked at the younger girl with motherly worry in her eyes.
Ginny glanced at Hermione's own plate. It was piled high with eggs and bacon, two pieces of toast and a side of sausages. Sunday brunch at Hogwarts had always been Ginny's favorite meal and her stomach grumbled angrily in response to the dry toast it was receiving.
"I'm fine, really." Ginny bit out, before adding "I just have a bit of a stomach ache after the late night, I guess." She knew this was entirely implausible, and hoped Hermione hadn't noticed that she had left the dance early. However, Hermione just cast one last worried glance at Ginny, then smiled and got back to her own brunch.
Ginny finished her toast, shouldered her ever-present book bag, and headed out towards the lake. She had worn a pair of sweat pants and a pale blue t-shirt, and was planning on finding a clearing among the trees near the lake to practice her long forgotten passion, dance.
Meanwhile, a very smug Draco Malfoy was just sauntering into the Breakfast Hall, accompanied by his two crones, Crabbe and Goyle. He noticed her leaving, and noted her strange attire—was the Weasley actually going to get some exercise? He raised and eyebrow, then lazily strolled towards the Slytherin table. After eating a light brunch, he noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were only getting started, and for lack of anything better to do, announced that he was going for a walk, by himself. Soon, he was exiting through the very set of doors Ginny had trudged through not more than ten minutes ago.
She threw down her book back and conjured up a muggle CD player. She pulled out her favorite CD, Version 2.0 by Garbage, and started stretching. Shirley Manson had long been her idol, with her red hair and pale skin and sex symbol status. After she finished stretching, she decided that she wanted to have fun this morning, and her favorite form of dance was decidedly Modern. Ballet was too constricting for her, although she'd taught herself everything about it that she could. It wasn't long before her cheeks were pink, but Ginny didn't mind. It was just her and the music, and she felt that amazing, sheer bliss she hadn't felt in years. Surprisingly, she had retained most of her flexibility, and still remembered every move she had painstakingly taught herself.
Draco walked slowly towards the lake, laughing to himself. He couldn't wait to tease the youngest Weasley, about her red face and red hair and fat ass and overall hideous appearance. He knew that his joy in her pain stemmed from his frustration at her intelligence, which outstripped his, despite all the tutors his father had hired and all the money he'd spent to educate his young son. But if he could wreck her self-confidence enough, she'd never realize that she had one up on him. He just had to keep the upper hand.
It wasn't difficult to find Weasley, because music was blaring and it was just the sort of trash she'd listen to. It was difficult to believe the girl before his eyes was Weasley. She'd conjured up a wooden dance floor and was spinning on point one second, break dancing the next. This was the girl that spent the whole night, last night, by the snack bar?
Draco watched in a sort of horrified fascination. This girl didn't have any inhibitions, this girl didn't lack strength, or beauty. She was good and she had a determined glint in his eye he'd failed to recognize before. In short, he was rooted to the spot. He watched in almost guilty fascination as her hair fell out of her bun and spun behind her, foot after foot of it, hair he'd never seen down, and a smile splayed across her face. He began to back up, unable to turn away from her, and as always happens in these situations, he tripped over his own feet and fell on his face. Ginny stopped mid-pirouette and froze, with a look of horror on her face and she felt her heart sink to the ground. Good God, he'd seen her dancing and she'd never hear the end of it.
"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing here?" she tried to hide the quiver in her voice and attempted to sound annoyed rather than scared, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to one side.
Draco lazily got up and brushed himself off, stalling for time before he had to come up with something to say in retort. Unfortunately, the moment did come, and it took all his courage to bite out, "I came searching for the person playing such atrocious music to make them stop, but the sight of your fat ass jiggling all over the place quite made my stomach turn. I was just leaving." He turned with a smirk on his face, then turned back around and said, "By the way, Weasley, don't take up dance. It really doesn't suit you." Then he stormed off, quite shaken.
Ginny plopped down on the grass and felt a tear slide down her cheek. She was ruined. She was only practicing, and she thought she was doing rather well…she hit her fist on the ground, wiped her tears away, returned the dance floor to a twig and the boom box to a leaf, then grabbed her book bag and trudged towards school with a scowl on her face and depression clouding her mind.
Three Months Later
Ginny pirouetted around the clearing, laughing a high and joyous laugh. It was a Saturday, and a Hogsmeade day, so it was safe for her to dance. She'd been at it for two hours but it was such bliss she didn't ever want to stop. She'd lost twenty pounds by this point, and she had top marks in Potions. Malfoy was worse than ever, but Ginny wasn't minding so much; she felt great. The last spell he'd shot at her had put a damper on her spirits—he'd scorched her hair, which left her no choice but to cut it to her shoulders. Lavender offered to cut it, and Ginny had her cut it like Shirley Manson's. If she had to have red hair, and if it had to be short, she would make it look as hot as possible. Now she had to spend considerably more time on her appearance in the morning, but her plan was coming to fruition, and it was well worth it. She'd gone into Potions and noted the look of shock on Malfoy's face, she'd seen the way his eyes had racked over her body. She'd laughed at him and taken a seat, and noticed him staring at her several more times that day. It was amazing what eyeliner and a few good hair spells could do for a girl. The hair she'd never worn down was now down every day, and fell voluminously around her face, making her look both sweet and sexy in a way that no one had known Ginny Weasley could look.
Draco sat in his room, since he was banned from going to Hogsmeade for the rest of the year for scorching Weasley's hair. He was angry and he would get the chit back. She'd taken her scorched hair and turned it into something beautiful, making her look like an angel and a vixen, making her practically irresistible and infuriating him. He knew he had an effect on her; he'd watched her diet and dance and diet more, and he'd seen the pounds drop. He'd watched her cry, he'd made her cry, but now she was smiling and he was the one near tears. He'd never desired something he couldn't have, and he almost thought, because Ginny was an intelligent girl, that she was playing that very card against him. He would just have to show her that he always got what he wanted.
He knew she was here. He knew she stayed during every Hogsmeade day, and danced her heart away. He knew, because he'd watched her on more than one occasion. He knew where she would be, and he knew that catching her in the middle of her dancing was the one thing left that annoyed her to no end. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak out, and headed towards the lake, with a grim determination in his eyes.
Ginny had recently been teaching herself African dance. Over the Christmas holidays her mum had paid for her to take two dance classes, and her teacher had been kind enough to teach her everything she could, because she saw that Ginny had promise but didn't have a lot of cash. She was in the middle of this when her music suddenly turned off, and she heard someone growl from directly behind her, "I thought I told you not to play this trash."
It was Malfoy's voice but he was nowhere to be seen. She realized in a moment of horror that he probably had an Invisibility Cloak. She regained control over her face and made it look entirely normal, although a little angry, as she bit out, "I thought you'd learned by now that I don't take orders."
He'd noticed the fear and shock that had traversed her face and knew she was like a deer in the headlights, thought she'd learned to play his game will. He watched as her wand was out, and almost laughed as she pointed it in the wrong direction.
"Come on, Malfoy. Are you too chicken to show yourself to a little girl like me?" It was a good taunt, but he had something better in mind. He remained silent, crept closer, and in one fast sweep, pinned her against a tree with his body and took her wand with his hands. Then he let the cloak fall.
"Not at all."
She was looking up at him, flushed from dance and from shock, and he felt her tremble slightly. That was more like it.
"You know, Malfoy…" she paused, then continued, "your obsession with having power over me is the biggest weakness I believe you have." She didn't break his gaze, and watched as a slight flush crept onto his face, as he clenched his jaw and pressed himself against her more firmly, almost knocking the breath out of her.
Ginny hoped he didn't feel her trembling. She'd never felt a guy this close to her before, and while she hated Malfoy, she couldn't honestly deny the fact that he had to be the best looking boy in the school. His height rivaled her brothers', he was pure, taut muscle, and he had icy blue eyes that a girl could get lost in. Although, at the moment, they were sending rather unpleasant chills down her spine, since he looked ready to murder her.
What scared her even more was the almost maniacal smile that was dancing on his lips, and she almost fainted when he bent his head down to her ear and whispered, "Ginny…" he sucked in a deep breath and let it rush out along her neck, "If my only weakness is needing power over you, I'd say I've just become a man without flaw."