A/N: I can't believe I'm updating this! I mean, it hasn't even been an entire year since the last one! :O

Anyway, I had one of those brainwave things at sat up till two in the morning finishing this—it was a lot of fun. *grins*

I think I'm quite happy with this, but since I haven't slept in nearly twenty hours, I may be very wrong. Tell me what you think, okay?

I can touch your skin, but you aren't there,
Frustration burns in me, it's more than I can bear,
I wanna take you in my fists and squeeze the life back into you,
But there is nothing I can do—you are gone...
And I can hold you in my hands,
But you've slipped away like a fistful of sand...

I can hold you in my hands,

But you've slipped away like a fistful of sand...

—Fistful of Sand, by the Bravery

Draco edged closer and closer, and I could feel every limb of his against me. Yeah. Every limb. And I'd just noticed how tall he was...not like I hadn't noticed before. It was just...hard to miss now.

Shit. Shit. Merlin's satin underwear. He was so close to me...

He gazed down at me quietly, his gray eyes darkening, his lips parted slightly. They twisted, just a bit, into a suggestion of a smirk, and I gawked up at him with an expression that I was sure resembled a rabbit who was looking up at a butcher, knowing it was going to be beheaded and chopped up to be put into stew.

Wait, before you get the wrong idea—yes, I have been kissed before.

"Talking of beautiful," murmured Draco, running a thumb lightly over my cheek. "You're not bad to look at yourself, Weasley."

His lips looked so soft! And so...edible. It looked like a lot of things, because it was suddenly so bloody close that I felt like I could write a poem on it right then.

"I was going to take a fly around the grounds tonight," mused Draco absently, still touching my face wonderingly. "But you know what?" His hands paused, two long fingers trailing lightly over my lips. "I think I can reschedule," he whispered.

He was going to kiss me.

Suddenly, a whole lot of images flashed through my head, the way I imagine it does when you're falling off a cliff and your whole life comes before your eyes. Except in this situation, I was an inch away from snogging Draco Malfoy, and my entire life seemed to consist solely of a certain disastrous dare.

The dare. Snog Draco, and you're off the hook. The Dare. Did I dare do the dare? No strings attached, right? If I kissed him right now, I was totally out of this abyss of sexual and emotional tension. If I kissed him now, I could be in the Common Room in an hour, giggling to all the girls about my new conquest. It would spread around the castle, how Ginny Weasley had kissed Draco Malfoy in the moonlight, and everyone would look at me with new eyes. Because that's what it would be...a conquest. Kiss and dis.

Draco's pale, beautiful face. It was so clear, so close. His long, hands at my face, his lovely gray eyes waiting. I thought of everything I'd found out about him lately, everything I'd noticed. I thought of the quiet sadness I'd seen in his eyes sometimes, the bitterness, the mysteries in those stormy eyes, between those gray clouds. I thought of the way my heart pounded whenever I thought of him; I thought of him outside my window, soaring through a night sky. Could I do that to him?

Sadly, my inner monologue was rather effectively interrupted by his finger tilting up my chin, and his lips coming down on mine.

Oh, God.

Yes, for a moment my thoughts were limited to that simple sentence, that simple plea for His mercy.

Draco's lips explored mine curiously, yet expertly, an edge of smoothness to them, while his hands were cool against my cheek as he held my face, the other hand running gently down my sides, to my hips.

I have no idea what I did. All I knew was...my eyes blinked open blearily sometimes, and I saw the dark charcoal of his eyes, before they fluttered shut again, and I gasped into the feel of his mouth, so soft, so warm, so persuasive and yet so...cool, almost unemotional. At the same time, I could feel his unsteady breathing, could see his searing, unfocussed eyes, his hands tightly winding into my hair, tilting my head back slightly as his lips moved against mine...

This was somewhat like the way he'd been devouring that fox Pansy against the wall that day. Quite similar, actually.

It's just a joke, right? Just a dare.

That's around when my hands, that were running over his chest—naughty little things, those hands—froze against his skin, and, giving a mangled sort of mixture of a shriek and a groan, I pushed him away with all the strength I possessed. One second his lips were hot on mine, and the next second...they were not.

"This is wrong!" I gasped, trying to pat my hair and pull my shirt and straighten my skirt at the same time. Since I didn't have three hands, I finally just settled on dropping the said hands to my sides and staring at tousled, confused, frustrated Draco in horror.

"This is wrong!"

Draco took a moment to breathe deeply, and ran a mildly shaky hand through his tousled hair. Finally he settled piercing eyes on mine. "Excuse me?"

All I could think of was the faces of many different females, each saying different, obnoxious things to me: Lavender, Pansy...Hermione, Drew. I could just about see their expressions.

Had I just done the dare? Had I? Had I?

"No!" I cried. "No, I didn't! I didn't! I didn't snog him, I only...no..."

Draco gaped at me in almost comical confusion. It was almost funny. Almost. "What're you talking about?" he demanded. "Snog who?"

"Snog you, of course!" I said hysterically, wringing my hands. "I didn't! I didn't! Please tell me I didn't!"

He stared at me disbelievingly for another moment before drawling, "So what were we doing, Weasley? Discussing knitting patterns? Doing each other's hair?"

"That would've been a lot more preferable," I muttered, swallowing loudly, gazing around me like I'd suddenly find a deep hole into which I could bury myself. "I do a very nice Herringbone braid."

His mouth actually fell open. He raised his eyebrows at me in an expression almost akin to alarm. "Weasley," he said uncertainly. "Do you need to go to the, er, Hospital Wing? Because I—"

I'd been gazing at my shoes, shuffling around in agitation...don't ask me why I was agitated. I don't know. I whipped around to face him. "I didn't snog you!" I cried. "I did no dare, and I didn't do anything! And I..." I stared into his beautiful gray eyes. "I can't do it, not like that!"

"Goodnight!" I said in a strangely strangled voice, before turning, and I was just about to stomp into the castle when his voice, still slightly shaky, stopped me.

"Weasley."

I turned again. He was looking down at me steadily, all traces of humor gone from his face, his hair gleaming silver in the light. His eyes questioned mine mutely, the piercing, lovely pewter color of them burned into mine for a single moment before he straightened and shrugged gracefully, shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

Then I turned and stormed into the castle.

"...so Dean said, 'Why don't we try it in the carpet?', and I was like, 'What? What can you possibly mean? Like, on it?' Because that would make more sense..."

"You and Dean are so kinky, I'd never have thought," giggled Lavender as we ate breakfast the next morning. I rolled my eyes at them, sitting opposite me, giggling like...well, themselves.

"Wait, though, listen, there's more!" trilled Parvati. "I had no idea what he was doing, but then he pushed me down, came down all over me, and then something happened, and we got rolled into the carpet!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the carpet folded itself over us, you know, it rolled up!" clarified Parvati happily. "Dean was over me, and the carpet was tight around us, him on top of me, and slightly scratchy wool beneath me...that carpet, the one by the fire, it's not too big, you know, so we didn't have much space. It rolled into a tight little loop around us, and every time we moved, we spun across the room, the carpet rolling out as we went..."

"You know, a bed could seem like an entire country to you two," said Drew dryly. "And I'm never going to be able to sit by the fire again without having nightmares."

"We'll tell a House Elf to have it cleaned," said Lavender reasonably. "It should be okay, after about a dozen washes, or something."

"I wouldn't subject a House Elf to that sort of torture for anything," snapped Hermione suddenly from my right.

Parvati turned dark, annoyed eyes to Hermione, and said loftily, "Well, I'm not the one panting after Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Ron said, turning to look at Hermione in confusion. "What about Snape? Who's panting?"

Hermione flushed furiously. "Nothing, Ron, Parvati's just a little dazed this morning." She stood up smartly, snapping her bag over her shoulder. "Can't blame her, really. She can't have gotten much sleep last night, what with all those...carpets." And on that nice note, Hermione strode out of the Great Hall without another word, leaving my brother gazing after her, frowning.

"It's part of adolescence," I whispered to Ron. "She'll grow out of it."

When I entered the Potions dungeon later that morning, though—I almost didn't notice Draco sitting at our desk, gazing at me unreadably, such was the nature of my distraction—Hermione had certainly not grown out of her spell of adolescence.

For she was standing by the teacher's desk, speaking heatedly to one Severus Snape, who was leaning gracefully, all sleek and bat-like in his billowing black robes, talking to her in a silky, disinterested voice.

"...I still fail to understand, Miss Granger, why you're standards have plummeted so in my class," Snape was saying. "I do not usually tolerate such foolishness in this classroom—Essence of Didelio uses fruit jelly as a primary ingredient? I think not—and cannot fathom why you have started to resemble a baboon."

I gawked.

Do my ears deceive me?

Had Snape actually said that? Had Snape, who usually ignored Hermione's raised hand of knowledge, insulted her when she said the answer, actually told her—actually noticed her abnormal behavior, and compared her to a baboon?

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I find this subject distinctly nauseating nowadays!" Hermione said shrilly. "Forgive me if I don't succeed in convincingly pretending that I enjoy your classes!"

Snape's eyes gleamed. "You are crossing the line!" he hissed. "I have told you, Miss Granger, time and time again—this will not work, it can never work, please try to understand!"

Hermione stared up at him for a moment before saying softly, "Why can't you understand? Why don't you even try?"

Snape looked evenly at Hermione for a long, long moment, his eyes seeming to sparkle, before saying quietly, flatly, "Return to your seat, Miss Granger, the class is due to begin. And if you don't improve the quality of your work, I will be forced to remove you from this class."

"Fine!" cried Hermione, and then she turned and stormed into her seat, glaring viciously at everyone who looked at her.

Stiffly, I met Draco's thoughtful eyes, and made my way towards him. Draco looked away from me, gazing speculatively at his godfather, who was still standing by his desk, looking intently down at his pale, spidery hands.

Snape seemed to wait—indeed, the class was only half-full—and in that time, it sunk in that I. Was. Sitting. Next. To. Draco. Malfoy.

When I'd done a clown on him last night.

When he'd kissed me last night.

Of course, these thoughts had only been temporarily shoved out because of what I'd just witnessed between Snape and Hermione, but now I felt like huge boulders were rolling down a mountain and bouncing painfully, one by one, on my head.

He'd kissed me last night.

And I...I...I'd done the dare, hadn't I? Since morning, I'd been able to think of nothing else, and yet, I'd told no one. I knew I never would. I could still remember, so clearly, the feel of his warm lips on mine...

And then what had I done? I'd said some nonsense about braiding hair and stormed out of the place!

What the heck was wrong with me?

Why? WHY?

Snape clapped those spidery hands of his together, as per usual, but his silkily said words flew right through me. I think he said, in that quiet voice of his, something to the effect of 'continue torturing yourselves, I cannot be bothered, because I am too busy staring at my hands and thinking of Hermione Granger'.

Something to the effect of that.

Gritting my teeth, I turned to Draco, to find him looking at me, his face expressionless. When my eyes met his silver ones, though, he suddenly smirked.

"Thinking of last night, then?" he said, his eyes flicking down momentarily to settle on my mouth before they fixed themselves upon my eyes again. "Thought you were a bit muddled, you know, after."

"Yeah," I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I was. It was a bit, um..." I swallowed. "Unexpected. I mean," I added an unconvincingly blasé snort, "you practically raped me out there."

And also, I was a big idiot. But that needn't be mentioned, because it goes without saying.

His gray eyes gleamed with amusement, and a bit of mockery. He leant back in his chair, watching me with those laughing eyes, and said, "Raping aside, your expression was priceless. You looked like...why, you looked like you'd been kissed! Isn't that strange, Weasley?"

"Having snogged me last night, would it kill you to call me 'Ginny'?"

I resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth, and simply stared at Draco. A few strands of silvery blond hair had escaped from his ponytail, falling over a piercing gray eye.

His eyes seemed to harden, darken, but his face remained the same; cool and expressionless.

"I don't know if it would kill me, Ginny," he drawled, his eyes boring into mine, "so why take the risk? For all you know, I may now keel over and choke to death."

"Oh, I don't know," I said bitterly. "I've heard some say that it makes the snogging better to actually know the person's name. It may just be a saying, though. You know how those old sayings are. All of them are so untrue these days..."

I babbled on wearily, and suddenly, Draco had straightened, and he put a large, fine hand on mine, which was clenched on the desk.

For a long moment, he looked at me thoughtfully, his silver eyes roving my face. The eyes suddenly gleamed mischievously. "The whole point of our snogging, Ginevra," he said silkily, "is to make you forget everything. Even your very beautiful name."

He leant back again. "I don't seem to have succeeded in that last night," he said thoughtfully. "Oh, well, There's always a next time."

"There isn't going to be a next time!" I snapped.

"Oh, that has me put neatly in place, hasn't it?" said Draco with a dignified snort. "Save the denial for the Potters and the rotters, Weasley. I don't think I can handle it."

"Oi, Draco!" said a husky, amused voice from behind us. "Watch what Moreno's doing here!"

Draco and I exchanged a loaded glance—it thrilled me to my toenails when this happened—and turned back, to see...

Oh, horror.

Blaise was grinning widely, the cauldron in front of him smoking, and Drew, who sat beside him, was gawking at him, batting her eyelashes and pouting in an exaggerated way that made her seem like some sort of retarded Barbie doll.

"Looks like the Addicere Liquidus worked," said Blaise with a broad smirk. "Moreno's practically pining after me already. I think she must have snorted some potion in by mistake, you know, when she was being so very cutting and sarcastic before."

I rolled my eyes at Drew, who now pretended to gaze, wide-eyed, at Blaise, and fan herself frantically with her hands.

"Blaise Zabini!" moaned Drew. She put a hand to her head dramatically, and stared at him with impassioned eyes. "You make my blood sing! You make my heart weep! I feel like I can run through oceans, run through piles of dragon dung, if you are at the other side with wide open arms!"

"You make a good Potion, you two," said Draco, grinning. "I'm surprised you have any left at all. I'd have thought she swam in it."

I raised an eyebrow at Drew, and she winked at me.

"Hold off, love, not so close," said Blaise, warding Drew away airily. "You're drooling over my shirt."

"You are my addiction!" Drew hissed, clutching wildly at Blaise's robes. "You're my soulmate, my twin soul, my amore!"

Blaise's slanted black eyes looked swiftly at Drew's hands, clenched against his chest, and to my surprise, he looked a little uncomfortable. He shook off her hands gracefully, assuming a smooth, amused expression.

"All right, now, Moreno, I think we should actually finish something up here. Don't want to be stuck together for too long, after all..."

"Do not scorn me!" cried Drew, looking horrified. "My love, your words hurt me like poison edged arrows! Please me, love me! Kiss me!"

And Drew pulled Blaise closer by the shirt, and pressed a smooth kiss onto his lips.

Someone gasped—I think it was me, but it could've been Draco, too, because he looked dumbfounded—and to my intense surprise, Blaise blushed.

His smooth, dark skin turned shadowy red, while Drew gave him what appeared to be a searing kiss. Almost compulsively, his hands seemed to reach up to hold her...and she pulled away.

She grinned maniacally at him. "Gotcha."

Blaise said nothing. He stared at her with those eyes, his cheeks still flushed, with an expression of incredulity and...awe.

Drew caught his gaze, and suddenly, her cheeks colored up, too. Her eyes grew smoky, her fingers twitched towards his again, and...

Blaise suddenly snickered.

"It's over so soon, love?" He gave an easy smile, glancing over at her with veiled black eyes. "And I was just warming up. It's you Gryffindors, you're all like this, such a tease..."

"Unfortunately for you, Zabini, the potion isn't everlasting," she said with a smirk. "It wears off."

Draco and I worked in almost companionable silence for a bit, I reading the instructions on the board to him while he did some dicing, and then I did some stirring, and it went on like that for a time.

We hadn't mention what he'd both seen between Drew and Blaise. The only thing Draco had said was, "Well, well, well..."

To which I had murmured, "Who would've thought?"

And then that was that.

I was stirring the cauldron again now mindlessly, thinking of how precisely Draco had chopped up some Bublingum beans some time earlier, his long, beautiful fingers holding the fat purple beans together while the other hand deftly cut into it with a silver knife.

When Draco died, his hands should be chopped off and kept in a museum, as an example and a tribute to how male hands ought to look. It should be part of the educational curriculum for all children, a trip to that museum...

His deep, silky, equally museum-worthy voice interrupted my intelligent musings. "Weasley."

I cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him. He was looking at me intently, frowning slightly. "Last night..."

"Oh, not last night!" I groaned. "Haven't we established enough about last night?"

"Keep quiet," he snapped haughtily. I rolled my eyes, and he said nothing for a moment, before saying finally, "After...before you left...you said 'this is wrong'."

I stiffened, looking at him, holding my breath. Draco's chiseled face was unreadable, but his eyes gazed into mine intensely, piercing silver. "You went on like an idiot about that for a while," he continued softly. "Remember? Then you mentioned something about a dare..."

I searched his face quickly. His eyes were only open, dazzling and intent, staring at me with no other motive clear. I couldn't read anything from his face.

"So?" He raised an eyebrow slightly. "What was all that about? What was so very wrong?"

I gave a nervous laugh, waved my hand dismissively, and nearly knocked over the cauldron. "Oh, nothing," I said airily. "I hardly remember I said that. Did I say that? How stupid of me!"

He looked deeply skeptical. "I didn't drug you last night, Weasley. I think you were remarkably conscious."

I swallowed, gazing at my feet for a bit, and then I turned to him, meeting his gaze with hopefully steady, convincing eyes. "Nothing was wrong," I said gently. "I mean...it just felt that way for a moment. I don't know."

Hah, yeah, that's very philosophical.

His eyes seemed to tighten slightly at my words. "You're very easy to figure out, you know that?" he drawled sarcastically. "You always make such perfect sense. I don't know how you do it."

I shrugged jerkily and settled on stirring the potion vigorously, making some of the thick green liquid slop over the sides. There was a long pause, and then he said again, "Weasley."

He really had to stop doing that. This time, I kind of jumped—don't ask me why—and nearly fell off my chair.

I turned to him, to find that he was holding out a handsome gold-wrapped little ball to me. I gazed at it dumbly.

"It's called a chocolate, Weasley," he told me helpfully. "It's a rather delectable thing some people like to eat. Care to try it?"

I rolled my eyes and took it from him, glancing around furtively to make sure Snape wasn't looking—Snape, by the way, was now standing by the dungeon doorway, staring broodingly at the rusted iron door as if he was considering the pros and cons of banging his head repeatedly on it.

I deftly ripped off the wrapper—funnily enough, I was well acquainted with the delightful inventions known as chocolates. This one was a delicious looking sphere of milk chocolate, it's outer layer sprinkled through with nougat and caramel.

"Thanks," I said happily, and popped the whole thing into my mouth. Draco watched amusedly as my mouth realized it couldn't be very comfortable with this, and I chewed furiously to prevent my jaw from snapping.

The chocolate exploded in my mouth, warm and sweet, and I beamed as I munched, still unable to open my mouth, so full that it was.

"Balls this size too big for your mouth, Weasley?" murmured Draco, and I snorted spectacularly.

"How crass," I said thickly.

He smirked. "Eat your chocolate."

It was all over after a minute—the 'balls' melted quickly in my mouth, haha, hahahaha, er, not—and I smacked my lips regretfully, glancing at Draco, who was staring at me like I was an extremely interesting spectacle.

His chocolate was still in his hands; he'd just been watching me devour mine.

"This is what I hate most about chocolate," I said, pouting. "It never lasts."

Draco smirked. "You eat it wrong, Weasley."

I bristled—who was he trying to teach the technique of eating chocolate? I'd mastered it since birth! "What do you mean, I eat it wrong?"

Looking very amused, Draco said, "Watch."

He twisted off the wrapper, eyes fixed on mine intensely, and he brought the chocolate to his lips slowly.

He took a little bite, a smudge of chocolate coming off onto his lips, and eyes still trained on mine, he ran his tongue lightly across his bottom lip, catching the chocolate there.

He then took a larger bite, and chewed slowly, a small smile twisting his lips.

A bit of the chocolate was melting off the center, and now looking thoughtfully at it, he carefully got the melted part, seeming to almost kiss the chocolate as he ate it.

Oh, dear God.

Draco picked out a nougat bit with his teeth, eyes darkening on mine, and his tongue swirled momentarily on the last bit of chocolate before he popped it into his mouth, and ran his tongue across his lip delicately once more, gazing seriously at me all throughout.

I felt like I might pass out or something.

The bell clanged, all too soon—that's how a gorgeous Slytherin enigma of a boy could change things for you—and I felt the vibrations of the sound go through me as I stared dumbly at him, wanting, wanting...CHOCOLATE. Lots of it. Lots and lots of chocolate.

As people started to filter slowly out of the classroom, Draco stood up gracefully, gazing at me gravely.

I got to my feet stiffly.

Draco grabbed his bag, and smirked suddenly. Pansy sidled in out of nowhere, and draped herself like used chewing gum at his side.

"That, Weasley," Draco told me, "is how you eat chocolate."

He then proceeded to leave the dungeon with Pansy Parkinson clutching his arm.

Lavender was talking at me as I clambered into the Common Room that evening, looking around for Drew.

I say talking 'at' me obviously because her words had as much effect on me as watching goldfish mating. That is to say, no effect at all.

"...but you have that look Ginny, and I hate thinking you're not telling me something, after all, we're in the same year now and you should really trust me more..."

I looked around for Drew, spotting her sitting, her back to me, in a chair directly in front of the fire.

"...I mean, look at you! You look a bit like Parvati did after that night she spent in the Restricted Section. Cuddling up with Dean against the evil books, I mean. You've been snogged, I know it, you have to tell me..."

I made my way determinedly towards Drew.

"...come on, it was my dare, anyway, how can you not tell me? It's something to do with Draco Malfoy? Isn't it?" Lavender grabbed my arm suddenly, and stared at me with her large blue eyes imploringly. "Is it?"

"Piss off," I told her pleasantly, before shaking off her arm and going straight to Drew.

"What happened?" I demanded.

Drew looked up at me with tearful eyes. She said nothing.

"Oh, come on, tell me! I saw you get all upset after that letter came this evening! And then you just disappeared! What's going on, Drew?"

Her lips trembled for a moment, her bright blue eyes shimmering with tears.

"Oh, Ginny!" she wailed finally. "It's Rocky! It's Rocky, Ginny, he's sick, Mum just owled me telling me, and I can't stand it..."

In case you're wondering who Rocky is, I shall tell you: Rocky, who's full name is Edward Rochester, is Drew's beloved pet alligator. He is a dear pet of Drew's, who was lovable cold, steely, beady eyes and rather adorable rows of razor sharp, dagger-like teeth.

You know now why Drew gets along so famously with Hagrid.

"What happened to him?" I asked worriedly, kneeling beside her chair.

"I don't know, Mum didn't say! She said it's some sort of...infection, or something...he's all exhausted and refuses to eat anything, even his favorite raw and bloody Hippogriff livers! I can't bear it, Ginny!" And she put her face in her hands and sobbed.

"I...can't even see him...I can't stand being here, not knowing if Rocky is okay!" She surfaced from her hands and looked around herself in tearful disgust. "And I'm sitting here on this goddamned carpet where Parvati and Dean got it on last night—Merlin, I think I can smell them here—and I feel like puking, and Rocky..."

She looked up at me and swiped at her nose. "I've had him since he was a baby, Gin! I helped him catch his first Tarantula! I've watched his teeth grow!"

I put my arm around her. "There, there," I said bracingly. "I've seen Rocky," unfortunately, "he's a healthy alligator, he'll be fine..."

Drew said nothing for awhile, just giving almighty sniffs and shuddering breaths, eyes streaming.

"Oh, I don't know, Ginny," she said finally, her voice breaking. She looked at me with frantic eyes. "I don't know. If something happens to my Rocky..."

I suddenly thought of her leaning in smoothly to kiss Blaise on the lips, remembered the flush on both their cheeks, earlier today.

...I thought of Draco leaving the dungeon, Pansy at his arm like a leech.

"I don't know either, Drew," I said wearily. "Let's just hope for the best, because ignorance just isn't bliss anymore."

Drew nodded solemnly, and the toe of us wrinkled our noses at the sinister looking carpet, and gazed dully into the fire.

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