Chapter Four: The Chicanery of the Weasel

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"What do you get for a girl wearing a dress?" Blaise was lounging in the Slytherin common room, tossing his wand up and down.

"I'm gonna need more than that to go on," Pansy stated wryly, "What color is the dress?"

"Dunno," Blaise shrugged, a crookedly smile slowly working its way onto his face.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Then what color is her hair?" she asked, as though speaking to someone completely daft.

"Red," Blaise grinned.

There was a pause, and Pansy groaned, "You cannot be serious," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Nothing looks good on a Weasley."

"Au contraire, my dear," Blaise's grin twisted on one side into a smirk, "I believe Draco and I agree that many things look good on this Weasley... especially nothing."

"I'm sure Draco disagrees," Pansy rolled her eyes, glancing to the blonde, "Don't-" she paused, and a look of shock appeared on her face at his glazed eyes. "Please do not tell me-"

"What?" Draco snapped beck, "No, of course I wasn't thinking about her naked," he shook his head.

Blaise laughed, "And you might want to stop rolling your eyes, Pans, or they'll stick that way. And if they don't, I can always make them."

Pansy looked repulsed, "You two disgust me."

"Yeah, well, between me and your face the feeling is mutual," Draco smirked.

"Enough of this witty banter," Blaise commanded, "We need, one - to figure out what Red's up to; and two - costumes."

"Oh, that part's easy," Pansy commented, "I've got mine, you two can just check the Room of Requirement. I'm sure it's got loads of costumes."

"That," Draco looked at her, both his face and voice conveying surprise, "Is a decent suggestion. Good work, Pans!" He clapped her on the shoulder, patronizingly.

"What a shocker," she glared, monotonous.

"Well, I knew after 17 years something knowledgeable would come out of there," he grabbed his bag, "Let's go, Blaise."

"No thanks, man, I gotta figure out Red."

Draco shrugged, "Suit yourself." He exited the common room, empty bag swinging at his side. He walked up the various staircases, making his way to the Room. He froze. There was already a door there.

I need to get in unnoticed, he thought, pacing back and forth, concentrating. Something about the door changed. It looked the same, but Draco could inexplicably tell that this door didn't lead to the same place it had a minute ago. He opened the door, cautiously, and found himself in... a closet. "Great," he grumbled, pushing past bolts of fabric to the door.

"Hold still!"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, and carefully peeked through the keyhole. He thought he'd recognized that voice. Cage was carefully examining a frilly black dress on a black-haired girl. That was strange, he didn't recognize this girl. His surprise was logical, considering she was by no stretch of the imagination ugly, and he always made sure to keep tabs on the cute ones - the Weaslette had been the exception to prove the rule.

"Malcolm, this is way too much."

Something at the back of Draco's mind twitched. That voice... it wasn't one he usually heard, but something itched him about it. Before he could analyze, his question was answered.

"Ginny," Malcolm ordered her, matter-of-factly, "Nothing is too much." He tugged something on her front.

"What's the surprise you said?" Ginny asked, curious.

"I'll tell you when I told you I'd tell you," Malcolm calmly pinned.

Ginny humphed. "...I reeally want to know," she prodded, "Please?"

"Nope." Malcolm sighed, "Well, there you go," he admired his creation, "Out you get."

Draco had to tear his eyes away, modestly - feeling as though the founders' eyes were on him, in this closet. It just wasn't decent being a peeping Tom at the moment. His eyes zipped back when he heard the click of hanger on rack.

"Bottom's up," Malcolm handed Ginny a vial.

"Thanks - cheers," she downed it, and seconds later she was back to her regular, red-headed, freckled self. She kissed him on the cheek, "See you," she gathered her bag and exited.

Draco waited impatiently as Cage sewed and tucked for another ten minutes. Finally, he left, too. Draco waited, in case Cage had forgotten something, then cautiously moved out into the large room. He was immediately overwhelmed by the racks of clothing, which seemed to stretch out for eternity.

He skimmed past the hundreds of racks of women's clothing, and finally found what seemed to be the 'reject' section - nearly half of it menswear.

There. That was it. It wasn't exactly a costume, but if he added a mask... it would do. He grabbed an extra mask for Blaise. Blaise didn't need to know what Draco had seen. For all he knew, Draco knew just as much about Ginny's 'dress' as he did. Draco made sure to get a good look at the dress, too - he wanted to make sure he could find her at the dance.

With a last glance around, Draco returned to the Slytherin common room, making no mention of his informational encounter. He would win this.

"Too tight," Ginny patted the corset, "My boobs aren't pancakes, Malc."

"Can you breathe?" He asked, briskly.

"Barely."

"Then it's not too tight. And your chest looks luminous. Voluptuous."

"Just what I want," Ginny droned, sarcastically, "To have a 'voluptuous bosom' whilst avoiding the two most notable womanizers in the school. This is just fantastic."

"No worries - they won't know it's you," he handed her the little vial, "Drink up."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but swallowed the small vial of metamorphmagus potion. Seconds later she could have been a relative of either of the Princes, with one's coal black hair and the other's glacier grey eyes. Her freckles disappeared, leaving her looking... very un-Weasley.

"Remember how I told you I had a surprise?" Malcolm glanced at her, cautiously.

Ginny nodded, fervently, deathly curious.

"Well... promise not to get mad at me..." He summoned three small boxes; one square and the other two rectangular. He pushed them toward her, nervously. "Go ahead. Open them."

Ginny gave him a suspicious look before opening the shorter rectangular box. Inside the stark white of the box lay a ribbon, like a black stain, with one single crystal disk punctuating the silken length.

"It's a necklace," Malcolm explained, "I thought it would work for a costume - it can tie in a bow in the back with enough left over to - oh, just open the next one."

She did, too in shock to say anything. Inside this rectangular box lay a black fan, the interior folds an icy lavender color. A pearl inlay formed intricate spirals and waves on the front and back wooden panels, and two black feathers hung from the bottom.

"Before you argue-" Malcolm raised his voice over the inevitable protests, "Open the last one," he grinned, nervously.

"...Oh, Malcolm...." Ginny gaped. Inside was the most beautiful mask she'd ever seen. The entire thing was golden - so delicate, Ginny was almost too scared to touch. The shape was reminiscent of a butterfly, with curved sides sprouting swirls of thin gold. The eyes had a cat-like shape, though, and a line of crystals ran from the corner of each nostril, to the inner crease of her eye, over her brow bone, all the way to her temples. From the top of the wing-like corners to the bottom of them a small golden chain was connected, from which two pearls hung. "Malcolm, I can't-"

"Put it on."

When Ginny couldn't bring herself to touch it, in fear of crushing the lace-like gold, Malcolm carefully placed it over her eyes, tying the black silk ribbon behind her head. "You look beautiful," he told her, quietly.

"Malcolm, I can't take this." She felt the pressure building behind her eyes as she slowly untied the mask, "I can't take charity from you - you've done enough for me already."

"But it's not charity-"

"No gifts either.

"It's not a gift," Malcolm's smile, which had been tentative before, now shifted into a full-out grin, "You bought it."

"But... how?"

"With this." Malcolm held out a slip of paper. "Your first paycheck. You got the job!" He hugged her roughly, though careful to avoid the mask, beaming.

Ginny blinked. "I... got the job?" Then the realization hit her. "I got the job. I got the job!" She squealed, hugging Malcolm back, tightly.

Malcolm tried to calm her down. "The stuff wasn't too expensive - plus it was obviously worth it to see-" he froze as the clock struck eight.

"It's starting!" Ginny hurriedly charmed the mask to her face, and the ribbons disappeared. She tied on the necklace and grabbed the fan, "See you!" She gave Malcolm a quick peck on the cheek, running out the door. If only her prince could find her before midnight - her Cinderella story would be complete.

(A/N: Pictures of the mask can be found on my profile.)

"How do I look?" Pansy twirled for them, grinning.

"Like a peacock."

"Ha! That's exactly what I was going for," Pansy flounced to the couch, wedging herself between her boys.

Her skirt was a metallic blue-green with a white panel, and the bodice was fitted with a matching white stripe, forming an hourglass shape, and no straps. At the small of her back, a train of long peacock feathers spread like a skirt, and her mask had a pointed beak and a crown-like crest of five feathers of varying lengths. Her blonde hair was curled into ringlets, cascading with more grace than she had ever shown herself.

"You do know it's the male peacocks with all the colors, right?" Blaise smirked, charming on his own half-face mask (a pure white that gave perfect contrast to his golden skin).

Pansy hit him, "Why must you two always ruin my fun?" She pouted, "I don't know why I'm still friends with you."

"Because you find us undeniably sexy, don't you?" Blaise grinned as Pansy's scowl slowly turned up to a smirk.

"No," she rolled her eyes, sarcastic, "That's why I've dated both of you."

"Shall we?" Draco stood, pulling Pansy up as well, "An hour seems reasonably 'fashionably late,' don't you agree?"

"Boys?" Pansy smirked as she snapped her fingers for them, taking one on each arm as they escorted her down to the Great Hall.

The dance had been arranged with a scattered curfew: first and second years leaving at 10:00, third years at 10:45, fourth years 11:15, fifth years 11:45, and sixth and seventh years 12:30.

The hall was pounding with music when the Slytherins entered, and people were just starting to actually dance.

"Where's Red..." Blaise murmured, scanning the crowd for her shock of scarlet.

"Remember - tonight, before Halloween's over," Draco reminded him, looking for the dress he knew she'd been wearing. What he saw, shocked him in a fairly unpleasant manner. Red, dancing with... Potter?! Well, he'd have to bide his time, that was all.

"Doesn't look like she's here yet," Blaise shrugged, following Pansy to a table as the current residents scattered. Draco shot a last angry look at Potter. The prat couldn't even dance.

"Guess not." He joined them, growling at a couple of third years, who quickly retreated.

"Well, as long as we're waiting - dear lord, is that the mudblood? What died in her hair?" Pansy looked repulsed, staring at where Granger was dancing with the older Weasley, her hair piled into a high tower on her head.

"It was the style... three centuries ago," Blaise shrugged. She must've been going for the Marie Antoinette look. She wore a huge baby blue frilly mess with a humongous hoop skirt, and a white eye mask. She was dancing with Weasley, who apparently had attempted to look dapper in a bright red soldier's uniform, but only succeeded in clashing his costume with his hair (and his face, which was blushing awfully).

They casually trashed others' costumes for a fair amount of time, once or twice dancing with each other, if only for the sake of waking up their sleeping limbs. Time passed only slightly faster than it had seemed, and they noticed as each group left, one by one, until finally, the fifth years were being ushered out, leaving just the sixth and seventh years.

Draco had been watching the youngest Weasley all night. She'd only danced with five students - one of which was Potter, and another Cage. Now, she was sitting at a nearby table, fanning herself with a fan she obviously couldn't afford.

"Where the hell is she?" Blaise was getting angry, eyes darting over the dance floor and tables.

"If you'll excuse me," Draco stood, wandering casually around the room. When he looked back at Red... she wasn't there. He stood still for a moment, eyes scanning for the black dress... finally he saw her, dancing with Potter again. He casually walked a bit closer, observing.

"...I'll be right back," Ginny smiled apologetically at Harry. She summoned her fan from her table and glanced around briefly before stepping out to the garden-esque terrace area.

Draco followed.

Ginny stared out at the starry night, admiring the fantastic work they had done on the gardens to create a hedge maze of rose bushes. She moved down to examine it, barely noticing the black-clad shadow behind her - though she did notice something amiss. To be safe, she entered the maze.

She was somewhat disappointed Blaise hadn't found her yet. She'd been sitting right by him... maybe she should've given him more clues. She mentally shrugged off her indecision, and turned back, making her way toward the school once more. But before she could enter back through the terrace entrance, a hand shot out from the shadows. It wrapped around her waist, another hand covering her mouth, and before she could cry out she'd been pulled into the shadows as well, her back to her captor.

"I know your secret."

Ginny shivered. She recognized the voice, though she couldn't quite place it, as it was hushed. Was it Blaise? Her heart leapt. He'd done it. He'd found her. She knew he could do it. She reached her hands up to pry his hand off her mouth, but he adjusted lightning fast, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Promise not to call out?" he asked, quietly, moving them both farther away from the entrance, into a dark niche in the castle wall.

Ginny hesitated, but nodded, slowly, somewhat disquieted. His hand dropped and took her wand from her waist before returning - empty - to add another layer of restraint to her torso. "Who are you?" She whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Her whole body was thrilling. Her heart pumped adrenaline through her system, sharpening her senses to a deadly point. She was scared, but also excited. She loved danger - especially dangerous romance.

"Your prince."

Her heart thudded against her ribcage once more. "Please don't make me guess," she pleaded, breathless.

"You don't have to."

Ginny's heart melted, her fear dropping like a sheet, unveiling her relief. "I knew you'd come."

There was silence from behind her, and for a moment, Ginny's pulse stopped altogether.

"I..." she sensed a strange emotion - one she'd never heard in this voice - something akin to... guilt? "I don't think I am who you think I am." He spoke slowly, and Ginny shivered again, feeling his voice vibrate through her bones, "But... I could be who you want him to be."

Distantly, as though it was in some other life, Ginny heard a clock striking. "Who are you?" She asked again, surprising herself, even, with the sudden volume, more desperate. If he wasn't who she thought he was... she could be in more than just fun danger. She could be in real danger.

His hand covered her mouth again, and they both turned as he checked to see if anyone had heard her.

Ginny's blood pressure rose and she struggled against him, frantically. His hand slipped, covering her nose, and for a frightening minute she couldn't breathe.

"Calm down!" He hissed, holding her tighter as she kicked and bit and flailed, her vision blurring both with fright and lack of air.

She recognized him now. Or, at least, she thought she did.

"Ginny! I told you to stop it!"

The lack of oxygen twisted her mind around the words, distorting them until she was sure it was him, she was sure she heard him... Tom. She screamed, but there was barely enough strength - let alone enough air - for it to escape. This was it. He's got me, she thought, hopelessly, he's finally done what he tried to do five years ago. I'm dying....

"So melodramatic," he grumbled.

Again the words were twisted in her head - but now her head throbbed - her throat burned - she couldn't see....

Draco loosened his grip the moment she stopped struggling. "I told you I wouldn't..." but something was wrong, she was leaning against him - falling against him. He let her go and she folded to the ground, unmoving, out-of-character black hair spread like a puddle of black blood around her still body. "...Shit." He moved to his knees beside her, suddenly nervous. He'd promised himself he would never have blood on his hands - never. And if she was hurt... he'd never forgive himself.

His mind raced, his position attempting to overwhelm him as his brain cast a coldly omniscient view over it all. Finally, he recalled one of the few wandless defense and safety moves everyone was required to learn in sixth year defense: CPR. He pushed his guilt out of his mind as he loosened her bodice - just enough to let her breathe easily, mind, and no more - and, carefully, tilted her head back, hands brushing over the smooth pale neck, somehow not nearly as appealing as her regular freckled one. He nervously bent over her, and some part of his mind observed, wryly, that it was the one time he'd ever been nervous about kissing a girl. He closed her nose, gently, and breathed into her mouth, then listened. His own pulse was crowding all other sound out from his mind, but he was able to hear just the faintest breath, and could feel it on his cheek. "...Ginny?" he asked, quietly.

Her chest began to raise painstakingly again, "Tom..." she murmured, barely moving her mouth, but beginning deeper breaths, "You got what you wanted. I'm dead. Now leave me alone..." She spoke weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

"...Who's Tom?" Draco asked, equally quietly.

Ginny's eyes fluttered open slowly, eyelids heavy, her vision a blurred mess of dark shadows. "You're not Tom." She stated, her voice a bit stronger, less raspy. She blinked several times, trying to get her eyes back into focus.

Draco smiled, relieved. "No," he helped her to sit up, propping her against the wall.

Ginny looked at him in open confusion as he crouched next to her, checking her temperature. "...Draco?"

It was his turn to look surprised. "That's the first time you ever-" he was cut off as her lips covered his.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling away, a light blush tinging her cheeks.

"-called me by my first name," he finished, stunned.

"I have to get back, Harry and them will worry-" She stood carefully, regaining her balance, and rushed back into the dance. Her mind was buzzing in her ears. She checked the clock - 12:15. Glancing around the room, she caught a pair of golden eyes. He started toward her, and Ginny couldn't help the tentative smile creeping its way onto the face she wore, but wasn't hers.

"Finally," Blaise slipped her hands around her waist and she around his neck.

"How'd you know it was me?" she asked, quietly.

He grinned, and held up her locket. "It fell off when you were dancing with Potter. I tried to find you out in the garden, but you'd gone."

Ginny smiled and stood up on her tiptoes, kissing him gently.

He smirked, widely, against her lips, and lifted her up, spinning her like a little girl.

Ginny laughed. "You're so sweet..." she beamed, but her smile faltered as she saw another Slytherin Prince entering.

"What?" Blaise turned, but Ginny brought his face back to hers, kissing him again.

They were so different. Draco was passionate, dramatic, dangerous - but Blaise was cute, and sweet, and fun... As she caught Draco's eyes she felt her heart rip a little more by the flicker of hurt in them. She pulled away. "I... I should go," she smiled, trying to hide the sudden throb of pain she felt, and let out a light laugh, "I have to get this contraption off before curfew," she gestured at the dress.

"I could help," Blaise suggested, eyes gleaming.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Thanks, but no thanks."

On her way to the common room Ginny couldn't help but analyze the two. She couldn't bear to ruin their friendship... maybe it would be better if she avoided both of them... go back to how it was before. Maybe she could give up the clothes, and the modeling, and the flirting... but she didn't want to.

A/N: Well, there it is: chapter four. This may be the last fully completed chapter I have, I can't remember.... I don't plan to check, because I'm going to work on typing up whatever I have left, anyway, and don't want to lose my interest in typing it by having already read it so soon. If the next chapter isn't complete, I can promise that I will complete it. =D

Thanks to:

Caramel Wafer

Nacilme

Jamiegirl123

panictowel

Ravenclaw's Redhead

Narcissa Raie

Love to all!