Chapter Two
A/N: I'm afraid I have to go totally cliché with you in this chapter and do the whole Ginny-and-Draco-have-detention-together thing. *winces* Sorry.
Detention.
Detention.
Detention detention detention.
"I hate Professor Snape," Ginny proclaimed to no one in particular as she made her way down to the freezing dungeons to fulfill her torture sentence. "Loathe him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns."
"So much, apparently, that you've taken to talking to yourself, Weasley," an ice-cold sneer drawled lazily from behind her.
Sighing in exasperation, Ginny rolled her chocolate brown eyes before turning around and fixing her not-in-the-least-bit-amused gaze on him.
"Screw you, Malfoy, I'm not in the mood," she declared frostily, tucking a stray lock of fiery red hair behind her ear.
"Oooh," a rare smile, so haughty that it made Ginny want to punch something, danced across Malfoy's face. "Getting feisty, are we, Weasley?"
"Yeah, you just have that affect on me," Ginny deadpanned. "Someone please get me a fan; you're just too hot to handle."
"You know, Weasley," Malfoy observed, lips twisted into a smirk, "You're pretty coherent when Potter isn't around."
"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said sarcastically. "Your opinion means the world to me."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and kept walking alongside her.
"Did Snape give you detention, too?" she asked him.
Malfoy shook his head, silver-blonde hair firmly in place. Ginny wondered with an amused smile how much hair potion he used: the amount probably put Gilderoy Lockhart to shame.
If that was possible, of course.
"He asked me to help him clean out the student supply closet earlier," Malfoy said simply.
"You're helping out a teacher?" Ginny asked quizzically. "That's not very badass of you."
"Well, your robes don't look secondhand," snapped Malfoy in return. "That's not very impoverished-trash of you."
"Well, I have to say," Ginny retorted evenly, hoping that her face hadn't gone completely red and betrayed how angry she was, "Your hair is perfectly styled, if I do say so myself, and that's very Gilderoy Lockhart-esque of you."
"Don't compare me to that narcissistic pixie," Malfoy sneered.
"With all due respect, Draco dear," Ginny said with a wry smile, "Lockhart isn't the one with a mother named Narcissa."
Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny continued before any words could escape.
"And the whole self-loving trait really does seem to run in the family."
"Don't talk about my mother, Weasley," Malfoy ordered furiously, pale cheeks flushing a soft pink.
"What're you going to do?" Ginny challenged. "Hit me?? I'm a girl, you know."
He stared down at her in raging frustration, and Ginny looked up at him with an innocent smile.
Stared down.
Looked up.
He had been staring down at her. She was looking up at him.
"You're extremely tall," she commented before wondering why the words had escaped her mouth.
"You're catching up," Malfoy retorted blandly. "Now remind me, exactly, why we're having a conversation."
"I haven't a clue," Ginny responded coldly as they reached the dungeon doors. "But I think it's enough talking for one day. Don't you?"
"Enough for a lifetime, Weasley."
And with that, the Gilderoy Lockhart-esque badass and impoverished trash stepped silently into Snape's dungeon.
~*~
"Operation Midget-and-Giant ready to go," Ron announced in a whisper to Hermione the next morning in the Great Hall.
"What?!" Hermione asked, immediately bursting into laughter.
"Well, it needs a code name, doesn't it?"
"You're impossible," Hermione proclaimed.
"You're just jealous that you can't come up with ingenious things like that," Ron declared, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Am not."
"Are t..."
The words immediately died on Ron's lips, and his brown eyes opened so wide that it looked as though they'd fall out at any moment.
"Ron?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "What is i-"
"What the bloody hell?" he muttered to himself, staring in disbelief at the end of the Gryffindor table.
Hermione followed his gaze to see Draco Malfoy standing over Ginny, muttering something in her ear. She didn't look thrilled at his presence, but didn't tell him to leave either.
Ron looked positively fuming, and Hermione opened her mouth to give him a logical explanation of some sort to why Malfoy was there, but found upon searching her mind for a reason that there wasn't one.
Not one she could fathom, anyway.
"I'm going to kill him," Ron was muttering wildly to himself. "Tear him apart with my bare hands-"
"Ron!" Hermione cut in, noticing with a start that he was eyeing his fork very longingly. She doubted that Professor McGonagall would be awarding Gryffindor any points for giving Malfoy a million tiny puncture wounds, no matter how much she undoubtedly would want to.
"He's talking to my sister, Herm!" Ron cried wildly.
Hermione gave him a pointed look.
"...ione," he finished weakly. "What's wrong with me calling you Herm, anyway?"
"No one is allowed to call me Herm," she responded threateningly.
"I bet you had no problem with Vicky doing it."
"Viktor never called me 'Herm'-"
"Ah, yes, I forgot," Ron said bitterly. "He never quite mastered how to pronounce your name, did he, Hermi-o-ninny?"
"Shut up," Hermione snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I-"
"What d'you reckon Malfoy's doing?" Harry cut in as he sank down next to Ron.
"Asking to be executed," Ron growled back.
Hermione sighed inwardly with relief, glad that they'd gotten off the not-so-friendly subject of Viktor Krum. Though she'd rather fry her own fingernails and eat them before admitting it to Ron, if she could go back and time and change things, she wouldn't have gone to the ball with Viktor at all. She would have much rather gone with....
Never mind, then.
"He's abnormally tall," Ron declared, brown eyes sparkling dangerously as he studied Malfoy and his sister, who were conversing almost pleasantly. "Taller than Gin, that bastard is."
"Ron," Hermione scolded automatically. "Don't swear."
"Forgive me, O Goddess of all things virtuous and perfect," Ron retorted sarcastically.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Hermione observed, fighting to keep her tone even.
"Oooh, clever, that was," Ron snarled. "Did you think it up yourself?"
"Oh, honestly, what is your problem?!" Hermione demanded furiously.
At this, the both of them paused for a moment and studied Harry, waiting for him to move in and break up the argument. When he didn't even move his gaze from Malfoy and Ginny, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks.
"You reckon he's going to go mad and kill Malfoy?" Ron asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Oh, you," Hermione chided, rolling her eyes. "Gryffindor has an extremely low chance at winning the House Cup as it is; imagine how it would be if Professor McGonagall had to take off a thousand-or-so points for murder!"
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but before he said anything, Harry cut in glumly, "You reckon she likes him?"
Immediately, Ron's mouth dropped open in horrified disgust and he studied Harry as though he'd just morphed into Lockhart. (Strange, how some people just can't appreciate Mr. Magical Me himself!)
"Oh, don't be silly," Hermione said logically. "There's no way Ginny likes Malfoy."
"Why not?" Harry asked defensively, his bright green eyes forlorn. "He's the only bloke in the school who's taller than her."
"Oh, Harry, height doesn't matter!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated. "It's what's inside that counts! And besides, I know who she likes, and it's not Malfoy."
"Who is it, then??" Harry challenged.
"Are you blind, deaf, and mentally slow?!" Ron exploded. "It's so bloody obvious, Harry!"
"It is?"
"It's you, you great prat!" hissed Ron, seeming much more at ease as Malfoy stood up and walked out of the hall.
"Oh, it is not!" Harry retorted skeptically. "She probably can't even see me!"
"Harry, she's fancied you since her first bloody year!" declared Ron.
"She can't still like me!"
"She does!"
"She can't!"
"She. Does."
"She-"
"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione said loudly, causing Harry and Ron to shut up at once. Their eyes shot up behind Hermione only to see that no one stood there but a Ravenclaw girl that was passing by.
"Funny," Ron said snidely. "Real funny."
Hermione smiled innocently. "I know."
~*~
"Oh, that Malfoy is such an awful jerk," declared Crystal Ohno, one of Ginny's good friends in her year. "I can't believe he had the nerve to come over here; what was he talking to you about, Ginny?"
"He's not that awful," Ginny retorted.
"I think he's rather handsome," Rachel McGregor said, a dreamy smile drifting across her face as she absently twirled a strand of strawberry blonde hair around her finger.
"He's terrible," Eloise Midgen cut in. "Have you heard the way he talks to Ginny and Ron?"
"What was he talking to you about?" Crystal repeated, sounding a bit irritated.
"The Seventh Years' Ball," Ginny muttered, cheeks flushing as her gaze fell to the table.
"The ball?!" squealed Rachel. "Did he ask you??"
Ginny shook her head truthfully. It had certainly seemed that way, however. Biting her bottom lip and tasting the cherry gloss, she recalled the conversation in her mind.
"Hey, Weasley," he'd greeted her with his signature smirk.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she'd whispered back in annoyance, her friends studying her curiously.
He'd then sank down into the empty seat next to her, whispering into her ear.
"Are you going to the Seventh Year Ball?"
"In case you haven't noticed yet, Malfoy, I'm not in seventh year."
Malfoy had rolled his piercing gray eyes at this. "I know that, Weasley, I'm not as dense as the idiots I hang out with. Has anyone asked you yet?"
"No."
"You mean Potter hasn't gotten around to it?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Well, that's probably a relief. You'd crush him to death."
Fury boiling in her veins, she'd snapped, "Does this conversation have a point, Malfoy?"
"I'm getting there, Weasley," he said with an infuriating half-smile. "I'm getting there."
"Well then get there and get out of my face."
"Touchy, Weasley."
"You know, Malfoy, it's really hard to struggle with hiding my undying and fiery love for you, so can you just leave me to daydream of your holier-than-thou self in peace?"
"You'd rather daydream about me than have me right here in the flesh?"
"Actually, I'd rather have you go away."
"Well, then I think I'll just stay awhile."
"Why the hell are you talking to me, Malfoy? It might tarnish your reputation, you know. After all, my family is trash."
"I don't give a rat's ass about your family, Weasley. Nothing's going to stop me from talking to a pretty girl."
"Funny."
"How do you know I'm not being serious?"
"Instinct," Ginny snapped. "Malfoy, do the 'pretty girl' a favor and stop torturing her, okay??"
"Fine," Malfoy had stood up. "Later, Weasley."
"Ginny! Hello?"
Ginny snapped out of her reverie to find Crystal's hand waving in front of her face.
"Oh, sorry, I-"
"Someone's here to speak to you," Crystal informed her, tilting her head slightly to the left.
There stood Ron, positively barking mad.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking, Ginny!?" he thundered. "Talking to that bloody prat? You'd better not fancy him, Ginny, because you know what guys like him are after!"
"No, Ron," Ginny said sweetly. "What are they after?"
"You know what they're after," Ron sneered, his ears flushing. "Now, stop talking to that git, you hear me, Ginny?"
"Ron, you're not Mum-"
"And thank God for that, because if I was, I'd probably be dead from shock!"
"Oh, for the love of all things holy, just shut up and go back over to Hermione and Harry!"
"Ah! Harry!" Ron said, a mad glint in his eyes. "Forgotten about him, have you, Ginny? Because he fancies you, Gin, he fancies you a lot. And he's not some bloody Slytherin, either!"
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny ordered coldly, fury pulsating through her. Oh, it was just like her brother, to embarrass her by pointing out that Harry would never like her!
There was no way he was serious.
"I'm serious, Gin," Ron continued. "But if you're going to go off and like Malfoy instead..."
"Ron, it's not funny."
"I'm not joking! I-"
Ron was cut off by the bell, which rang through the Great Hall and caused students to immediately stand up and pour towards the doors.
"Ginny, don't you-"
"Got to go to Transfiguration, Ron," she said bitterly. "See you."
And with that, she left her brother standing in the Great Hall, muttering furiously to himself about Slytherin bastards taking advantage of innocent sixth years.