A/N: I like this chapter. It gives me such a pleasant mental image. :P

Thanks to all who read & reviewed!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine and I'm not going to bawl my eyes out for that. Because I like writing fanfiction.
The Founding of Pigwarts II – Cooking Chaos

Chapter 2: Whirlpool

There weren't many things in the whole wide world that had the power to render Ginny Weasley speechless. The invitation to Malfoy's Birthday Party was one of those few. The little crimson book in her hands was another.

She had finished reading it some time ago already – now the journal was lying closed in her lap, her astonished gaze moving from it into the flames and back again.

Wow. That was her first thought.

Well I'll be damned. That was the second.

Is Harry gay? won the third place. She dearly hoped he wasn't because then she would have to cancel their wedding, and so many preparations had already been done. Although, if he did have the hots for Ron then they only had to replace the name Ginerva with Ronald (in some places Molly with Bilius as well), and everything would be all right again. Except that the groom and the... erm... groom would be dead before the big day because she was simply going to KILL THEM.

Of course, the other option was that they had just been drunk, and done some stupid things. Not that they actually needed to be drunk to act stupid, for her dearest brother and beloved fiance were perfectly capable of behaving like idiots while completely sober.

Ginny waged her possibilities. The book did not say their kiss was passionate, as it did about other kisses, between other people. And Ron and Harry had never given any hint of their irresistible wish to snog each other senseless. So perhaps the best explanation was the right one as well.

But still, why hadn't they said anything about it? Or at least avoided each other like hell? She recalled what they had spoken about that night in the ruins of Hogwarts – 'I can't give you all the details, Ginny, because to be honest, I hardly remember a thing that happened after we got there. Except for Ron's singing, that is impossible to forget, however hard one might try.' She had to agree with Harry on that, Ron's singing was indeed the subject for nightmares.

So they didn't remember. They hadn't mentioned Malfoy or anything that happened simply because they were too drunk to remember.

Poor Hermione. Doing all those incredibly hot and passionate and sexy things with Malfoy and not having any memories of it to keep her warm on long cold winter nights.

Well, she would have to help her with that. If not to get those memories back (because Hermione might not believe her should she just stick this book under her nose), then make some new, even better ones.

And so, in Draco Malfoy's office, the birthplace of many devilish plans, another one was born.

---

When Ginny left the office, a copy of the journal was safely in her pocket. She locked the doors behind her, and after a few dead ends and lots of paintings trying to kill her with their glares, made it back to the party.

Which was still boring. As hell. Or even worse.

She looked around in search of a victim... erm... an accomplice. Evil schemes were so much more fun if you could share all the finger pointing and evil laughter with someone.

Of course, finding a suitable victim... erm... accomplice from this place was like founding a needle from Vesuvius. But sometimes, miracles do happen.

In this case, it came in the shape of a girl sitting alone by the drinks and drowning one glass of wine after another. She had messy ebony hair with brilliant green highlights, eyes too jade to be natural, and robes that looked like shredded sheets of white and emerald. With that appearance she stood out from the rest of the people so greatly that Ginny wondered how she hadn't noticed her before.

With a smirk worthy of a Slytherin, she made her way towards the other girl, recognizing the look of utter boredom on her face. Reaching her, Ginny grabbed herself a glass of wine and took a sip, eyeing her future victim... erm... accomplice carefully.

"Enjoying the party?" she asked after a moment.

The girl gave her a sharp glare.

"I have never been to a party quite this..."

She paused for a second, contemplating her next words. But there was something about Ginny that made her tell the truth.

"Boring before. Without all this alcohol," she toasted with her glass. "I'd be probably dead of boredom by now."

"I totally completely wholly agree with you," Ginny smirked. "This party sucks, big time."

"This is the last time I'm letting Draco have his secretary organize the party," the brunette shook her head. "I'll chain him to a dungeon wall if I have to."

"I like the way you think."

"Glad to find someone agreeing with me."

They stood a moment in silence, during which Ginny tried to figure out why the other girl seemed so familiar and where she had seen her before.

"I'm Ginny," she said at last. "Ginny Weasley."

"Not for long, I've heard," the girl grinned. "I'm Daphne Greengrass."

"Oh. Didn't you go to Hogwarts with us?"

"Indeed," Daphne nodded, exchanging her empty glass for a full one. "Slytherin, and proud of it."

"Gryffindor, and proud of it as well. Even though some have accused me of having Slytherin tendencies."

Daphne nodded once again, and looked around in the room.

"Care to lighten this party up a bit, Gryffindor?"

"I'm in, Slytherin."

---

"More wine, Ginny?"

"Thanks. Nice spell, Daphne."

"I've always liked pool parties."

The two girls where presently perching on top of a chandelier, a few bottles to keep them company, and peering down to what had been the floor before, but now, after a nifty spell from the Slytherin, had been turned into a large pool.

A large pool full of confused people, who had no idea how they had suddenly ended up in shoulder-deep water, and were now trying to get out, climbing onto a few tables, which were also sinking rapidly.

"Oh, look!" Ginny exclaimed and pointed. "Mrs. Olbin's dress is dissolving in water!"

"Poor Old Bint," Daphne sniggered. "Everyone's looking at her with disgust."

"Serves her right, Mrs. I-have-always-known-red-hair-means-savageness."

"Now did she?" Daphne raised a brow, and fumbled with her wand, miraculously succeeding in not dropping it.

A second later the overall noise and panic was subdued by a bloodcurdling scream as Mrs. Old Bint's whole body was suddenly covered in red fur, followed by more than a couple of sighs of relief because now she was not that horrible of a sight any more.

"I like you, Slytherin," Ginny said in awe.

"Not so bad yourself, Gryffindor. Now what?"

"How about a whirlpool?"

There was something extremely thrilling and liberating about watching all the important and high-class society people crying out in hysteria, trying to climb onto each other's shoulders, pushing their allies and enemies alike under the water, and swirling around and around and around in the current. All wet, robes and hair ruined, make-up running down their faces, looking more or less like drown rats.

Funny how none of them had yet managed to draw their wand and cast a helping spell, even though any of the simpler useful spells would have given them a large rubber duck, something which both Ginny and Daphne considered rather useful and helping in the situation.

"Disco lights!" Ginny suggested, and did just that, bathing the room into flashing colours of neon pink and green.

"Not bad," Daphne admitted and finished off her bottle of wine.

"You know," Ginny said a good five minutes of screaming and splashing later. "This party has most definitely improved."

"Draco should be thankful to us."

"Damn right he should."

"Nice working with you, Gryffindor. My opinion of the lion-people went up a couple of notches solely thanks to you."

"I'm honoured."

"You should be. Want to meet up some other time and cause more trouble?"

"Actually," Ginny said slowly. "I do have one plan in the making."

"Much trouble?" Daphne inquired curiously.

"Total chaos."

"I'm intrigued," the brunette smirked.

"Good."

"So, tell me more."

"First promise not to tell anyone anything about this. Especially Malfoy."

"Slytherin's honour," Daphne raised a hand in vow. Ginny pointed her wand at her newfound friend.

"Lehmavanne."

"What did you do?" Daphne queried, not sounding one bit upset.

"If you break the promise, you will be turned into a cow," Ginny explained.

"Cool spell. Mooooo! for that. Now tell me about the plan."

"Well," Ginny began. "It all happened when I got bored to death of this party and decided to leave. Somehow, however, I must have missed the front door and instead ended up lost in some long deserted hallway. So of course I tried nothing else but find my way out, but instead happened to stumble upon Malfoy's private office."

"Yeah," Daphne nodded. "That has happened to me as well. Although, each time I have accidentally stumbled upon Draco's study, the door to it has been locked."

"Yes, well. But I also just happened to have my wand in my hand, and it was accidentally pointed towards the door, and I was just mumbling to myself a bit," she explained with a most innocent and angelic tone, which she often used with Molly to blame whatever she had done on Fred and George.

"Every time I have happened to have my wand accidentally pointed in that direction, and I mumble Alohomora to myself for no specific reason, nothing interesting has happened."

"Next time, try Avane juba, sa kuradima uks," Ginny advised.

"I'll remember that. So, in search of the front door, you got lost in this huge house, and accidentally stumbled into Draco's study. Once there, I'm sure you looked around – just to make sure it's not simply the vestibule leading outside, of course."

"Of course," Ginny agreed. "So I looked around for a bit in search of the exit. When I found none, I got this idea that perhaps the exit is secret, and I have to pull or push something to find it."

"And did you?"

"No. But I found out that Mr. Thompson used to be a famous tap-dancer in his youth."

"Really? I heard his wife was a clown at one point."

"Hmm, it didn't say that there. But I found something else as well."

"What?" Daphne asked, unable to hide her utmost curiosity.

"A journal."

"Wicked!"

"DAPHNE DOLCETTA GREENGRASS! Why is there a pool in my ballroom???"

"Dolcetta?" Ginny frowned.

"Blame my mother. That was what she said when I was born – father thought it was my name, but actually she just wanted some cake."

"DOLLY!!!"

"I hate it when he calls me that. And why by the hairclips of Morgana does he think it was my doing?"

"Morgana didn't wear hairclips," Draco growled, leaning onto the railing of the colonnade that circled the room at the same height as the chandeliers happened to be; which meant an angry ferret was staring right into their eyes. "And who else in this room is sitting up in a chandelier?"

"All women wear hairclips," Daphne argued. "And where does it say that I am not allowed to sit up in a chandelier?"

Draco gave her an evil stare for a couple of more minutes, then sighed and gave up, setting off to take down all the spells, muttering something along the lines of 'those darned drunk Gryffindors again'.

Ginny, who knew perfectly well what he was hinting to, smirked.

"I can't see why he is so upset," Daphne wondered. "After all, no one is going to forget this party any time soon."

A/N: Ooh, don't you just love pool parties? And disco lights? ;)

Avane juba, sa kuradima uks - Open up already, you damn door

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