Hello dear readers! Here is my first installment, RAYOR! (Read At Your Own Risk).

Enjoy!


"Ginny!" Ron yelled up the stairs to the girl's dorm. He tapped his foot impatiently, changing his grip on the railing every few seconds. "Gin, I need to ask you something!"

"What is it, brother dear?" A voice called. A mass of shining deep red hair appeared in the archway, its owner clutching a book in her hand.

"Have you seen Hermione?" Seeing his sister's raised brows and knowing smirk, Ron's ears turned pink and he absolved hastily, "We were just going down to the ―she wanted to tell me ―er, we need to… study?"

Ginny grinned, smoky gray eyes twinkling with amusement. "Or you're just going for a quick snog in the prefect's bathroom."

After a few more seconds of watching her brother squirm awkwardly, Ginny laughed, "I think she had all her stuff moved to the Head Girl's dorm. She should be back in a few minutes, if you want to wait. There, now you guys can snog all you want, since she has her own room, and there won't be any nasty Filch or prying little first years to come interrupt you―"

"Ginny!" Ron said, a mortified expression forming on his face and his ears turning bright red. His baby sister was not supposed to know these things!

"Sorry brother dear," she laughed. "Just thought you might want to know." Still grinning, Ginny turned around and made her way back to her dorm room. How Ron could be so naïve as to think that his sixteen-year old sister did not know what snogging was, much less not had a proper kiss, was beyond her. Well, let her take that back; she didn't mind Ron's clearly male stupidity, so long as he didn't morph into over-protective big brother mode―

"Ginny! How do you know― have you―" she could just imagine the look of comprehension dawning on her brother's face before he roared, "Who was it? I want to know, right now, right here, and that bloody git will pay for touching my baby sister―"

Ginny decided right now would be a very good time for a broom ride.

A long one.


Curtains pulled shut to hide her from unwanted eyes, the redhead sat huddled in the middle of her bed, shaking. The shadowy moonless night encircled her, the sounds of her roommates barely penetrating the eerie darkness. But it wasn't the darkness she was afraid of, oh no― it was him.

He was back.

She had thought he was gone, and over time and much determination she had forgotten everything, until now.

A drop of fear sweat glided down the side of her face as a torrent of memories surged over the barriers she had made a long time ago, drowning her.

The trust, the smell of aging parchment, the relief. I understand you, he had said, and she had believed.

Waking up with bloody hands, the fear, the betrayal. She had tried to get rid of him.

The doubt, clouding her and making her believe that she might have been wrong about him. She had been so gullible, so easy to manipulate.

The cold hard stone of the Chamber, the ghostly brushes of his fingers on her thigh. The icy laughter as she faded away, knowing what would happen when she woke up. The touches were promises, chilling reminders… and he would keep his promise. He was back, and he was coming for her.

Cold fear-sweat dampening her neck, Ginny rocked back and forth on her mattress with her eyes squeezed shut. Two glassy trails ran down her cheeks, the drops gathering on her chin and threatening to fall onto the covers.

The tears.


A single week had gone by since she had first felt Tom's presence in the earthly world again, and Ginny had an iron resolve. She would not let him take her so easily this time. She would be ready.

The sixteen-year old girl sat at a table in the library, several stacks of books obscuring her face from view. Quill scratching on a half-filled piece of parchment, Ginny frowned in concentration as she read from a rather large tome. Her long golden-red hair spilled in a wavy cascade over her shouldersand ontothe table, gleaming in the light of the library and windows. Her face, currently poring over the words, still held the marks of summer; a smattering of freckles and rosy sun was brushed across the tops of her cheeks and button nose. Her eyes were smoky charcoal gray, long lashes veiling them for the moment as they darted back and forth from parchment to book and back again.

It had to be here somewhere… she knew she wouldn't find what she was looking for in this book, but it should tell her where else to look, other titles or some such. Flipping another page, Ginny's eyes widened and then gleamed as she saw what was written there. Perfect.

Tearing off a corner from her parchment, the redhead laboriously copied down the book title from the inscription on the page. She was sure she couldn't find this particular tome in the regular library, but… Ginny looked over at the forbidding iron gate that closed off the Restricted Section.

Perhaps.

A thud sounded at the other end of the table, and Ginny frowned, peering around her stack of books to see who had so rudely interrupted her train of thought.

"What Weasley? Can't a man study without being ogled by worthless scum?"

"Well, hasn't someone got a broomstick up the ass," said Ginny disdainfully, leaning on one elbow. Malfoy regarded her with blue-grey eyes, his silvery fair hair brushing across them lazily. A chiseled jaw and cheekbones made for a very handsome, if not dead sexy, effect.

Ginny would admit it, he was very good-looking (and he obviously knew it). That did not excuse him for being an arrogant prick.

"Oh, this is news, the Weaselette's grown a backbone," he said, propping his feet up on the table. "Yes, you've obviously grown it, a Weasley couldn't afford to purchase one themselves."

"Well that put me in my place, really," Ginny answered wryly.

"Been dreaming of Potty recently? I hear he's desperately single right now, bet he'd love a bit of comfort. Always been you're dream, hasn't it?"

"Whatever you'd like to think." Seeing the Slytherin open his mouth for another comeback, she added, "Shove it Malfoy, I'm in no mood."

"What? Did daddy have to put the house up for mortgage? Worried it won't sell for as much as those rags you call clothes? I would be worried too, that dump isn't exactly prime real estate―"

"Shut the fuck up, you bloody twit," Ginny seethed.

"Language Weasley, you're soiling my ears. I'll have to take points for that, you know, mouthing off to the Head Boy is unacceptable―"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you don't own the bloody school!" she exploded, temper flaring. "I don't see why you have to bloody insult me when I didn't say one fucking word to you!"

She expected him to fly into a furious rage, to hex her into oblivion or something as equally dangerous to her health, but he did nothing of the sort, merely regarding her with one of his eyebrows raised.

"Now let's remember the ickle first-years, Weaselette. You'll taint them with that filthy mouth." Draco looked appreciatively at the curve of her breasts resting on the table, before languidly adding, "Really, you shouldn't hold in all that emotion. If there's something you need to, you know, get off your chest…" He glanced suggestively at her breasts.

This, of course, enraged her all the more. "You― you― ugh, words cannot even begin to describe…"she scrunched violently behind her wall of books and out of sight, seething. Detecting that a crack between the volumes allowed her to see his infuriating smirk, Ginny shoved the piles together in hopes of secluding herself. Instead, it caused them to topple over onto her work and bag, revealing the rest of her face to Malfoy's languorous gaze.

"Argh!" she cried. Snatching up her belongings,Ginny stalked out of the library, face flushed with anger and embarrassment.


Alrighty. I tried to improve my sentence structure a bit on this, it would be very, very helpful if you could tell me how I did. I would love reviews... and those who do it get cookies! Come on people, you know you can't resist the home-baked gooey chocolate chip cookies... you know you want some...