I stared icily at him. It's too bad murder is frowned upon.

Everything had started out nicely last month. We wrote our essays together, though it took longer between our bickering over everything and nothing. Sometimes I forgot what we were arguing about, but kept rebutting anyhow. It was a game, each icy remark a move. Come to think of it, I had no idea who won. I supposed Malfoy did, for baiting me to play.

I never really knew where I stood with him. I was ok with that, at least at first. In the moments when I didn't want to slap Malfoy's stupid, gorgeous, arrogant face, we had made me laugh. He sometimes smiled. He was a good listener. Maybe because he didn't want to share. I wasn't sure, still am not. I didn't really question it, too captivated by him. I was a moth to his beacon.

We may, or may not have been, gaslighting filch into thinking there are ghosts haunting the corridors at night. I'll never admit to it, though. Those were the good times. A memory flickered into my mind.

—-

"roses." I lamented. His eyes crinkled in thought, and he loosened his green tie. He sat on top of the desk table in the room of requirement, which I had come to consider as our room. I stood in front of him, arms crossed. Waiting for him to mock my choice.

"any particular color?" He asked carefully. I had tried to ask Malfoy what his favorites were: color, flower, anything at all. He remained a lock safe, instead turning the questions on me.

"any. all. as long as it's natural." Somehow we had gravitated towards each other. I resisted the urge to reach out and trace the curved slopes of his cheeks.

"Why? They're so… common. Basic. I would've taken you for a more unique sort, Pet." He smirked at the use of his nickname for me. Smirked deeper when he saw my cheeks flush.

"I think," I paused, emboldened. I reached forward to straighten his tie. His body stilled, and I could hear every delicate breath he made. Could feel every pounding of his heart.

"that the best things have thorns." Releasing my grip on his tie, I averted my attention instead to watching his eyes for a reaction. "And it'll take a lot more than thorns to scare me away." His eyes widened just slightly. He didn't just look shocked, he looked… terrified. I felt a rush of emotions, could feel his fear of letting someone get close. Then he put up his walls. Malfoy's mood shifted, narrowing his eyes critically at mine. I didn't look away.

—

I was naive, I should've known it was bound to fall apart. We ignored each other during the day. Then we'd meet in the room of requirement at night and whisper-argue until we were so close we were breathing the same air. My body betrayed me, making me like this boy who stood against so much I cared about. Who's family wouldn't hesitate to hurt mine.

But the more I admitted that I didn't loathe him, the more painful it was when he let his friends pick on me. Trip me, push me. And he'd look at me so differently than he would in our study room. Thoughtful eyes were replaced with detached ones. The more I got closer to Malfoy, the more he pushed me away. For too long I justified it, saying the hurt was worth it for the small lovely moments with him.

But one day he went too far.

I was wandering out of Charms when I saw them. Goyle and Crabbe on either side of Luna. My stomach twisted painfully. This couldn't be good. I inched closer and saw Malfoy leaning against the wall, a bored expression on his face.

"How's your father doing, psycho? Bet he's still blubbering nonsense in that garbage writing of his. I bet your mind's fucking screwed up too, bitch." Goyle snarled. Luna's eyes flickered up to him, her face remaining passive. I winced. She may not show it, but I knew that must hurt. And like hell was I going to just watch this. My chest flared with heat that Malfoy could, would, was watching this without raising a finger. Cold bastard.

Hurt my feelings? Fine. Push me until I break. But don't dare speak to my friends that way. Goyle dared get closer to Luna, his hands rolled into fists. No.

I stomped up between Luna and Goyle. I wished I were taller and could tower over him instead of needing to look up. At least my height covered Luna.

"Oooh would you look at that. One psycho helping another." Goyle leaned in my face, and I resisted the urge to lean away from his disgusting breath. God, it made me want to gag.

"What are you gonna do, huh, Weasley? Going to go tell Potter on us? Tell him about this-" Crabbe reached out and stomped his hefty foot on mine. "Or this?" Crabbe's arm darted out to slap my face, but I grabbed his wrist so tightly I could see it turning pink.

"Another step, and I'll knock the daylights out of you." I seethed through bared teeth. I released his hand and Crabbe and Goyle stepped back, surprised. Goyle rubbed his arm where half moon indentations lay from my nails. I thought this was mercifully over. Until-

"No you won't," remarked Malfoy, walking over to stand in front of his stupid friends. His eyes were alight with something. Amusement. And I wanted to kill him for it. As I said before, it was a shame murder was frowned upon.

"Try me." I growled. I dared step closer to Malfoy. Close enough that if I breathed too deeply, mint would fill my lungs.

"You won't. You're too nice and naive and too fucking Gryffindor to hit someone for the heck of it." He said this in a huff, as if his sum up of me disappointed him. As if he'd like me to be cruel and callous. Like him, I realized with a start. All this time I've been trying to humanize him, to rationalize my feelings. My attraction. But he's not. And he'd like to take me down with him.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I couldn't. So I took Luna's hand and turned us to go. And then he opened that stupid, evil, wicked, beautiful mouth again.

"Pathetic. Perhaps you can walk your way to an orphanage. Maybe you can grow the spine there that you didn't at home." Fuck it all.

When I left a minute later, my knuckles were numb from impact with his face.

I haven't gone back to the room of requirement since the incident. It would hurt too much. Though not going hurt too. I idly wondered if he has. Wondered if he even cared about my absence. It was humiliating that I wanted him too. It's mid December now, and I watched the snowflakes fall from the window. I was on track to be back on the quidditch team after break, and it was the only thing keeping me sane.

I was still daydreaming, swirling thoughts of grey eyes, when I realized that class had ended, hearing the scraping of chairs and dispersion of people leaving. I felt a warm breath next to me. It couldn't be. I looked over, ready to get angry. Oh.

"Dean." I said lightly, surprised by his presence. Is he even in this potions class? I didn't think so...

"Hiya Ginny. Sorry if I've interrupted your thoughts there…" He smiled, and I realized he's waiting for my reassurance. I gave a light smile and shrugged, wondering if I'm following social etiquette correctly. Doesn't he have something else to do now? What is this about?

"I was hoping you'd be my d-date to the Yule Ball," Dean's eyes bore into mine. My shock was immediate. I had heard of course, all the kids chattering about dates and dresses but had been so distracted by other things… namely thoughts of Malfoy… alternating between hate and attraction… that I had put the ball to the back of my mind.

"You… want to go with me?" I looked quizzically at him.

"Yeah! I mean, if you want." he looked towards the door now, no doubt wondering if this was a mistake. It definitely was. Especially when his eyes widened. I looked over, wondering what on earth had caught his attention.

Should I even have been surprised? Of course it's Malfoy standing there. Glaring at Dean like… well I don't know what. But if looks could kill, I'd be at Dean's funeral. And I abso-fucking-lutely hate myself for taking him in.

He's like a beacon, his pale skin and bright hair making everything else darker in comparison. I swear the sun must cower in his presence. His face is sharp, has it gotten thinner recently? I regret not paying closer attention. I knew that if I wanted to stay away from him I had to quit entirely. No glancing, no peeking.

I haven't truly looked at him in so long that seeing him now is like bringing drugs to an addict.

I was so fucking lost in him that it took me a moment to realize he was walking over slowly. Carefully. Running his tongue over his bottom lip. Looking at Dean the way an eagle does at its prey.

"And what do we have here? Begging for ball dates now, are we?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Dean turned red.

"N-no!" Dean stuttered, and I felt like I was watching a slow motion train wreck. I knew how it would end, yet couldn't look away.

"Well, let's check then. Since you seem so unsure. Has she actually said yes?" Malfoy asked. His face is masked with fake sincerity, not that he's fooling anyone.

"N-no. Not ye-." Malfoy's sneer cut him off.

"But you've asked?"

"Yes." Dean answered. He was now beet red. Little beads of sweat on his forehead. Another pawn in Malfoy's games. Even before Malfoy moved his lips, I knew it was checkmate. Dean never stood a chance.

"Then it seems you've been answered." Malfoy grabbed Dean's arms roughly and then pushed him towards the door. "Off you go then." Dean stumbled off.

My mind was reeling, trying to process. All I could think was: your move, Ginny. And it'd better be a good one.