(A/N: First attempt at a short novel-length. Another revamp. Ah. Oh dear. I am a horrible horrible indecisive person who can never. Decide. I'm sorry I took it down. After reading Heart's Cadence's piece I felt so insecure about this yes I know I'm horrible kill me now! To blackstar111 for awesome ideas. Please, please review and tell me what you think! I know it's stupid but when people don't review I get insecure and wonder if I could do better I know just laugh at me haha.)
Chapter One: Truth or Dare With Underwear
Of course, and only at present, it all became clear to Draco why he should never have agreed to play Truth or Dare with a gang of piss drunk Slytherins after midnight. In fact, it really was Dare or Dare, because Blaise Zabini was a crazy alcohol-induced maniac who would bellow, "DARE! DARE, YOU NANCY BOY!" each time the question was asked. The bottle stopped spinning, Blaise hiccuped, someone shouted, 'Steal Ginny Weasley's underwear!', and that was how Draco ended up hiding in an alcove by the Gryffindor common room with a 'salvio hexia' over his body.
He sighed and made a mental note never to spend Friday nights in the common room ever again. Merlin, he had a whole Head Boy dorm to himself anyway, and as for the company, that could go by invitation. Yes, he smiled, perfect! So he could just hang with Zabini, Nott, Greengrass, Davis, Higgs, the lot... and whoever shouted previously to steal Weasley's underwear could go to hell.
Speaking of which, he thought he'd just heard something move, so he peered around the corner. 'Baubles!' said Ginny Weasley with an apple in her hand, and the portrait swung open to admit her ("Where on earth have you been, it's after curfew!" remonstrated the Fat Lady). Being temporarily invisible had its perks, Draco thought, because in a blink, he had nipped past Ginny and climbed through the portrait hole, lightly brushing her arm in the process.
"Who's there?" she demanded, placing a hand on where he'd touched her. The portrait swung shut, and the common room was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. 'Harry?' Draco struggled to suppress an almost-snort. What. An. Insult. Then he grinned. Since his presence was already noted, no harm beginning what she started...
"Ginevra."
She cussed under her breath, stepping back, usually rosy face drained of its colour as her eyes darted around the room like a rabbit alerted of its predator. He watched (with mirth and delight) her face grow white with fear despite her attempt to conceal it. "T-Tom?"
Who the fuck is Tom?
"That's... right. It's me," he fibbed wildly, inwardly wondering if Tom was that... that servant at the Leaky Cauldron. No, that would be stupid. He dismissed the ridiculous thought. Ginny's chocolate eyes widened and, letting her apple fall with a loud thud, she sprinted up the spiral staircase and into her dormitory, with Draco following as quietly as he best could in pursuit without breaking into laughter.
When he reached the overheated mass of flowery pink comforters and sleep-giggling girls most called a dormitory, Draco found the unmistakeable fan of red hair, its owner shaking quite violently under her white cotton covers.
He knelt by her trunk and found a rather suggestive pair of black lacy knickers which, to be honest, was sufficient for his dare of the night. But curiosity beat his discipline to pulp, so he pocketed the underwear and continued rummaging through her possessions, pulling random things out just to scoff at them.
Transfiguration for Dummies, a Sneakoscope, a funny box labelled Puking Pastilles Draco was a bit afraid of, several bottles of nail varnish, rolled up parchments, crushed newspaper cuttings, a badge that said 'SPEW' whatever that was, honestly did he just see a bloody carrot in that trunk, a various assortment of scarves and Chocolate Frogs along with – oh Merlin. Dear, dear Merlin. He stopped tossing things over, eyes locked to the precious albeit hilarious gem. This one was truly priceless.
Mercury eyes glinting with glee, Draco fingered the silky cloth, holding it up as he did so. This. This could be the very highlight of his tyranny at Hogwarts, should he choose to make good use of it. It was perfect. There, in front of him, dangling from one refined index finger, was the truth printed in Gryffindor colours. The truth, in the form of a – ah, unique – pair of underwear, because on the crimson material, printed in gold, were the words:
HARRY POTTER, PULL THIS DOWN!
When muffled laughter filled the area around her four-poster bed, Ginny bolted upright and looked around the room. The whispered 'Ginevra' floated through her mind again and again, and she couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle's ghost had come to haunt her – which was insane, because Harry had defeated Voldemort and there was no doubt about that. Just... it was scary, thinking about her first year at Hogwarts.
It was something she had never really triumphed over, something that had often plagued her with nightmares that, thankfully, after Voldemort's death, had become less frequent, but not entirely nonexistent. Shivering slightly, Ginny reached forward and made to draw the curtains around her bed.
Only they wouldn't move.
"What is wrong with this thing?" She gritted her teeth and tugged forcefully, but the end of the curtains near her trunk seemed to have been glued onto the dormitory floor, stubbornly refusing to budge as if someone were sitting on it. Then, with a great heave of breath and one final, determined pull, Ginny managed to yank the curtains free of whatever had weighed it down, at the same time accidentally wrenching it off its hooks so that the entire rod came clattering down noisily and onto something solid. Something... moving, too, Ginny realised with a jolt as she prodded the thing carefully with a toe. Something... almost... human.
"Shit!" the thing hissed, and began writhing uncomfortably, trying to untangle itself from her fallen curtains.
Demelza Robins made a soft stirring noise from the next four-poster, which shut it up almost immediately. In overwhelming inquisitiveness, Ginny leaned forward to poke at the curtain-covered thing. "Who... what are you?" she breathed softly, watching warily as it moved away. "Wait," she articulated, a little louder, but the thing, looking suspiciously like a boy, had already stood up, curtain draped over his body, and was making his way clumsily down the staircase leading towards the common room.
In a heartbeat, she clambered out of bed and thumped noisily down the stairs, calling out, "Stop! Who are you?" as she chased. Whoever he was, he ran fast. "Wait!" she cried again, but by the time she reached the fireplace, he had pushed out of the portrait hole, fleeing, with Ginny Weasley's dormitory bed curtains flapping loudly at his ankles.
The next morning at breakfast, Ginny spooned scrambled eggs into her mouth quietly, all the time wondering who exactly her midnight dormitory intruder was while the others chatted happily. There was a certain jubilant buzz around the Great Hall because it was Friday, and a long-awaited Hogsmeade visit next Sunday was in place, but Ginny was far too bothered by the previous night's incidents to go dizzy excited with the rest.
Yes, she did indeed think to tell the girls, but for some reason unexplainable to even herself, she'd later decided against it – as though something horrible would happen if she related the story of her missing bed curtains to them.
So, as an excuse, all she said was, "Oh, I vanished them by accident." They had believed her, but it was all very perplexing nonetheless.
"Oi Ginny," called Seamus Finnigan from across the table. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me next Sunday?"
"No," said Ron.
"Yes," said Ginny.
Two seats away, she saw Harry twitch ever so slightly.
Most of the chatter was soon subdued by the morning post, and bundles of letters and packages were released in a great flurry as the owls swooped past their heads, hooting resonantly. In between the milk jug and a bowl of muesli, an envelope addressed to Ginny was slotted swiftly. She picked it up and tore it open.
Meet me at the spare Charms classroom after dinner today.
Intrigue surged through her. One-lined, written in neat, elegant penmanship, unsigned – Ginny turned it over and scanned the envelope, but to no avail as she found nothing about the sender. The bell rang before she could decide on whether or not a trip to the spare Charms classroom would be wise.
Lessons were, as usual, executed with an abundance of especially fidgety students ready for the weekend; the prattle had gotten so loud once that Professor McGonagall was forced to Transfigure everyone's desks into wild hogs just so they would pay attention. Potions was considerably worse, needless to say.
"Mr Creevey, the instructions clearly state one strand of troll hair," said Snape coldly. "You, on the other hand, put in two." Colin flared up, chest puffed out like a little bantam cock of a boy. "It wasn't my fault, Graham Pritchard put the other strand in!" The Slytherin boy at the next table merely turned and sneered.
"Even so, Mr Creevey. It says one strand. You should not be letting more than one strand of troll hair enter your cauldron. Five points from Gryffindor."
"Excuse me, Professor Snape," said Ginny angrily, eyes flashing dangerously at the pure unfairness of the situation. "I seem to have lost my one strand of troll hair. May I pluck another off your head, sir?"
"Sorry, can't, I've got detention Wednesday evening for two weeks straight," she said, when Hermione asked if they could start Ginny's Transfiguration tuition lessons on Wednesday. "Well..." said Hermione thoughtfully, and nibbled the end of an odd-looking turkey roll tentatively. "I suppose we could start later, but you'll want to begin soon, Ginny."
"Mmhmm." She reached for another chicken wing. If she didn't get a bloody Acceptable for her Transfiguration OWLs, she wouldn't be needing tuition, and if Snape actually tried to act remotely human, she wouldn't be having to postpone Transfiguration tuition just to be stuck in detention when she had better things to d – that reminded her. There was something she needed to do, her brain had been nagging at her all day... she racked her brains – what was it?
Ginny's half-eaten chicken wing lay forgotten on her plate as she left in the direction of the spare Charms classroom.
(A/N: Do a good deed and review, won't you? Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think!)