Obvious

- easily perceived or understood; clear, self-evident, or apparent

The 1998 Yule Ball was in full swing. Normally reserved for Triwizard celebrations, the Ball had been re-imagined by the Carrows, pureblooded students only, complete with ghastly Dark Mark fireworks, cupcakes with snakeskin-looking frosting, and - dear Merlin - ice sculptures of the Dark Lord himself. Headmaster Snape sat at the head of the long table in the front of the transformed Great Hall, resigned to the proceedings and looking as if he'd rather be in a dungeon somewhere being tortured by other Death Eaters.

Despite being surrounded by every possible offense to the refined taste his mother had brought him up with, Head Boy Draco Malfoy had barely glanced at any of it. Instead, he was intensely focused on the hordes of students dancing with a quite vast range of skill. In particular, his narrowed silver eyes didn't move from one couple towards the edge.

The boy was several inches taller than his companion and slightly pudgier, as well. Neville Longbottom had shot up like a weed since their O.W.L.s and he'd spent the last year losing weight, probably busy getting Crucio'd and otherwise running around with his ridiculous little resistance group, Draco thought snidely. Speaking of the most recent iteration of Dumbledore's Army, their leader and principal instigator was on Longbottom's arm. Small, lithe, dazzlingly beautiful Ginny Weasley threw her head back and laughed at something her companion said before lifting his hand, clasped in hers, and twirling under it and into Neville's chest.

Draco fingered his wand, itching to cast a particularly gruesome hex at Neville Longbottom. Daphne Greengrass twirled by and batted her eyelashes, heavily suggesting through nothing but body language that Draco should ask her to dance... or do something else.

Without taking his eyes off Ginny Weasley's clumsy and short figure, Draco brusquely rejected the elder Greengrass. Even if he wasn't so tense about Ginny in someone's arms, he would have a hard time taking his eyes off her tonight. The youngest Weasley was in a dark emerald-colored velvet dress that tied right below the nape of her neck, leaving her back open on the one side and plunging halfway between her ribs in the front. The velvet fit her snugly until it opened up around her thighs, from where it swayed gracefully around her feet. Her scarlet hair, half-tied up loosely around her ears, swung at a similar rhythm as the trail of her skirt as she put a hand on Longbottom's and laughed.

Before he had decided to move, Draco had strode from his place near the food to the Gryffindor couple's corner across the hall.

Longbottom looked up, frowning but always with a hint of fear in his eyes. In contrast, Ginny smiled merrily up at him, a deceptively lovely peach-colored smile (Where did she learn that Glamour charm?). "Can we help you?"

"Outside," Draco barked, his eyes not moving an inch from Ginny's. "Now, Weasley."

"Gin-"

"Don't worry about me, Neville." Ginny interrupted her date smoothly. "I can take care of myself." At that, she leaned up and gave Longbottom a quick kiss on the cheek, a gesture that made Draco see red instead of Neville's blushing pink.

Wordlessly, Draco grabbed the petite redhead's arm and pulled her out the entrance into the foyer, past the bewildered gazes of the Slytherin prefects guarding the entrance and into the nearest stairway.

"Draco, you're being too rough." The amused tone in her voice was driving him crazy, and so he pushed Ginny Weasley up against the railing. She didn't look to see the thousand foot drop behind her, but instead smirked at him.

"What's got you in such a tizzy, Malfoy?" She drawled, looking at her nails in feigned disinterest.

"What the fuck are you doing at the ball?" Draco snarled, more than aware of his erratic heartbeat and the electricity jumping from nerve to nerve where he'd touched her.

"I know, I know." Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically. "Not really my scene. But it looked like fun, and I thought Neville and I could use some levity."

"Neville and you, is it?" Draco asked scathingly, knowing full and well that he was playing into her hands but his head too muddled with lust and envy to care. "Well, I think you have his attention, and that fat pig Carrow's, as well, if that's what you want. Clearly you've got a thing for fat guys, Weasley. If you'd told me before you want a fat, chubby sweaty mess on top of you—"

"Don't be crude, Draco." Ginny wrinkled her one-time freckle-less nose. "You've got nothing to worry about," she purred as she stepped closer to him. Draco inhaled, letting her heady, spicy scent fill him up.

Before her hands even touched his shoulders, he wrapped his muscles arms around her small waist and pulled her closer to him, crashing his lips down on hers. Ginny responded with enthusiasm, and her hands scratched up his back until they were knotted in his hair. She pulled him back by the scalp, with as much force as he'd dragged her earlier, and breathed deeply into his Adam's apple. Draco reveled in the fact that she seemed to want him as much as he needed her.

By the time her lips were leaving wet kisses down his neck and her hands were under his robes, Draco realized with a start that he'd been pushed back against the opposite railing, pinned between Ginny Weasley and a surely lethal drop. Knowing that she'd lured him out here so Longbottom and their other associates could somehow wreck the Ball in his absence, and that he was sure to suffer a violent fallout from it tomorrow, Draco knew his pretty little Gryffindor fuck buddy was very much a liar. He did have a lot to worry about, he thought as he lifted her up so her legs wrapped around his torso, but for now he was going to settle for claiming what was his.

(A/N: conceivably part of the Adrenaline Junkie/A Diary from the Shadows universe)