A/N: I've got reviewers begging for more, so here is the tenth chappie--already! Er..don't have anything to say, besides that I'm sorry there isn't much British lingo--I'm not English, you know!

Disclaimer: I'm only famous for my beauty, not for writing books. Sorry!

Draco was positively seething by the end of the week. His plan had backfired so badly. He also knew that the chocolate she had eaten at breakfast wasn't one of his, and not just because she certainly wasn't babbling. Infact, she hadn't looked at him or talked to him since it had happened, five days ago. Of course, he wasn't planning on confronting her any time soon.

The only solace that he could find in the horrible perfume was that even Pansy kept her distance. Blaise, however, made sure that he plugged his nose whenever he stepped into the dorm. The scent, Draco soon realized, was magnified when he put cologne on, so there was no masking the horrible smell. Even his teachers had to struggle not to gag when up close to him. You could easily smell when Draco Malfoy entered a room, even one as vast as the Great Hall.

How dare she spray me like that!? Now nobody will come near me! There goes my chances with Turpin, right down the bloody drain. That wench is going to get it. She is going to get it back so hard. She's going to regret the day she tripped over me. She bloody well will regret it.

Draco was pacing his room furiously Saturday night, thinking about ways to get back at her. Blaise lay on his side, grinning as he watched his friend lose it infront of him.

"Mate, you're obsessed."

"No, I'm not." Draco tried to block him out.

"Yeah, you are. Obsessed. You're nutters over her."

"I just need to get even."

"Why?" Blaise was being horridly aggrivating.

"What do you think will happen if she makes the last move? If I don't retaliate?" Draco was incredibly tense as he snapped at Blaise, so much so that he stopped his pacing.

"Let me guess--you're a Malfoy, so of course you can't let a pretty girl like her make the last move. You have to have the last word."

"I'll be a coward. Laughed at. Ridiculed. Scorned. I can not lose!" Draco was somewhat taken aback at his words. He found himself breathing heavily. He simply was not one to be reckoned with.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday found Draco as tense (and smelly) as ever. During breakfast, he accidentally knocked his glass of pumpkin juice over, spilling the sticky substance all over his robes. Draco decided to spend his morning outside, reading. It wasn't a day that many people were outside--not everybody's favorite type of weather.

Draco loved it. He loved the clouds that hinted ever-so-strongly of oncoming rain, blocking out the sun. He loved the light but constant breeze that blew in off the lake. He loved the sound of the waves from the lake splashing against the small slope of rocks. He loved the sound of the trees, their leaves rustling in the wind.

Draco sat down at the base of a tree by the lake, yards away from the outskirts of the forest he knew to be off-limits. Pulling out his book, he opened it and began reading.

He had been reading for about ten or so minutes, before a the wind carried a faint laughter to his ears. He looked around for the source, and spotted, far away, over the Quiddich pitch, a solitary figure flying around. He knew at once that was where the sound was coming from. Amused, he set his book down and began watching the figure. Whoever it was, they had great skills. He watched the flier take a sudden dive, shooting down towards the ground, disappearing out of his view behind the stands. Draco wondered if they had fallen or crashed when he didn't see the figure again. Just when he was about to get up and head over, however, a streak shot up, up, up, higher and higher, and then stopped, where it did complicated and tricky maneuvering patterns.

Wow! They're really good! I'm not even sure that I can do some of those! Draco's impressment was incredible. He couldn't imagine a Hogwarts student being able to fly so well.

Checking his watch, he saw that he still had some time before he needed to go back for lunch, so he got up and casually walked towards the pitch. He could still hear laughter, and it made him smile. When he got closer, he figured it was a girl. She was still too high up to recognize, but he just knew it was a girl. Watching her, she suddenly stopped. Stopped flying, stopped laughing. He stopped moving and just watched her. Suddenly, she turned around and shot off towards the other end of the pitch, and then swooped down out of sight again.

Draco stared after her, puzzled. I wonder what got to her..she didn't see me, did she?

Bored with his book, he decided to head inside and walk around the castle a bit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After dinner, Draco began to make his Head Boy rounds. Glancing at his sheet, he saw that the Weasel had duties for that night also. Well then, he thought to himself, let's see if we can't find the little Weasel and have some fun.

Draco began walking down the deserted corridors. He had gone up a couple flights of stairs and was about to turn a corner when he heard voices.

"...Look, come on! I know I haven't been the nicest to you, but please! Give me a chance!" Draco knew it was Potter speaking.

"Look, I'm sorry Harry. I can't."

next thing he knew, a streak of red hair flew around the corner and crashed right into him.

"Oof! Get off me, Weasley!" Draco bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth.

Draco barely heard her mutter "sorry" before picking herself up and running off again. Bloody hell, woman! He pulled himself up and walk around the corner, looking to see if Scarhead was still there. He wasn't.

A/N: Sorry, I really did try to make this as long as I could, but it's time to switch to Ginny's perspective on things. Hopefully the next one'll be longer! R&R!!!