Living the Legend Chapter IV: Green-Eyed Monster Marie McKinnon

She really noticed the difference between the way Dean treated her and the way Draco had. Parvati and Lavender had been on the mark when they'd told her he was sweet; she saw his bashfully smiling face waiting for her after classes several times a day. In return, she urged him to go ahead and get to his next lesson to avoid punishment for being late.

Harry and Dean had a majority of their classes together, along with Ron, Hermione, and the other seventh years, sometimes including Ginny. She had been moved up in quite a few lessons, like Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts (little wonder). Dean gladly kicked Seamus out of his customary seat to let Ginny sit next to him, where she felt prickles running up the back of her neck from the glares Harry was giving her. Scribbling madly for the utterly boring Defence professor, she wished he would just come out and say it. He thought he deserved her, not Dean, and certainly not Malfoy. Considering that he hadn't explained to the latter yet, she disagreed fervently.

She had become increasingly powerful using Morgan's charm, letting it burn icily at her throat while she performed some difficult feat of magic. Her supply of magical daggers grew by the day, as did the rift among all three mages. Their practises had become unusually quiet despite the clanging of metal and frequent explosions. Silence hung over the room, poised and ready to capture anyone who succumbed to the tense atmosphere.

Though their personal relationships were slowly dripping away, they had learned to efficiently help each other. Draco, being the best fencer, tutored Harry, who helped analyze Ginny's magic, who aided both boys with their small explosions and losses of control. Draco was having more of these, being extremely tired and plagued by surreal, restless dreams.

Most of these involved Ginny, though he was decidedly closemouthed about the whole matter. From the simplest things, like her hair, her voice, or her smile, his mental torment escalated to an agonizing level. They danced, but she called him Harry repeatedly, though he didn't resemble the Boy Who Lived in any way. He kissed her, only to watch her sadden and turn away to Dean. Once he dreamt of their confrontation in the library, but instead of telling him she loved him, she gave a haughty laugh and stalked out to Gryffindor Tower. He hid his sleeplessness, but his state of mind confronted him every time he saw her, arm in arm with that football fanatic Thomas.

Speaking of Thomases, Nott was very excited at this turn of events. Three together or even two together are stronger than three separately, as Voldemort knew, and he cackled with maniacal glee at their weakness. He pressed his advantage, planning and recruiting more warriors, with or without the help of the Dementors and the giants. That fool Hagrid had gotten to them first, something he would never forgive himself for.

Having hoodwinked Hagrid and Hogwarts before, he had immediately assumed it would be only too simple to make a repeat performance. Imagine his fury when it became clear that not only was "that Muggle-loving fool" all too aware of his part in the attacks on the school, but had gotten into contact with the giants and Dementors before he could. For an evil overlord with unbelievable magical powers and a grip on immortality, that had to be humiliating.

*

"Ginny just sit down, please!" Lavender said in exasperation. They had been making fruitless attempts at getting her clothes in order, but when she couldn't decide what she wanted to wear, it managed to get very aggravating very quickly. "You are going," she continued, perusing the selection, "to wear this. Don't look at me like that, it's not freezing out. It's only mid-September, after all." Parvati nodded her agreement.

It wasn't horrible, she had to admit. A tasteful sleeveless shirt and a knee-length black skirt lay against her green coverlet, accompanied by a white silk scarf to drape around her arms and let hang across her back. She returned a moment later and revolved in the centre of the room for her new friends, smiling brightly. The opal gleamed at her throat.

"Now go over there to the vanity table and take your hair down," Parvati ordered, wielding a brush commandingly. The mass of lazy curls tumbled around her head, crimped at the center from the ponytail. "You have to wear it down," she said. "Your hair's gorgeous!"

Ginny shook her head. "It's too heavy and besides, I want to be able to see. I promised Mum I'd wear it down at my wedding, and that'll probably be the last time."

"Fine, but I'm telling you, you ought to wear it down."

"It's my hair, Parvati, not yours. I'd like to wear it up please." She muttered rebelliously to herself, but didn't appear to be anything less than charming. Once finished with a slightly messy bun, she handed the operation over to Lavender, who artistically made a big to-do over making her little charge up.

Once finished, Ginny really couldn't see what their huge fuss had been about. Yes, her eyelashes were more defined and her freckles were a bit more subdued, but other than that, she felt the same. On a spur-of-the- moment idea, she let two curls bob gracefully across her temples and past her cheek. A mental thank-you to Draco for that tip made her squirm inwardly, but she picked up her scarf and hurried down to the common room.

Dean had taken just about as long as she had trying on different sweaters and trousers to see what looked best. He'd finally decided on a white polo shirt, blue-gray pullover jumper, and khaki trousers after much deliberation. There wasn't much to do with his hair, he discovered, and so descended into the Lion's Den with the green-eyed monster following him every step of the way, though that one was a kitten compared to the one he would soon encounter.

"Hullo," she said, smiling shyly. He looked very handsome, she realized, as though she'd been putting away that notion for a special occasion. The colour of his jumper matched his eyes almost exactly.

"Are you ready to leave?" Dean finally managed, staring. She nodded, wrapped the scarf more tightly around her arms, and headed out the portrait hole.

Ten minutes later she was preparing to murder Lavender and Parvati, preferably in a very painful manner, and said as much. "I hope you don't mind dating a murderer," she muttered. "I'm going to kill Parvati and Lavender for telling me it wouldn't be cold. It's mid-September, they said. I believe they forgot that it's mid-September in ruddy *Scotland,* which is quite a bit colder than anywhere in England."

He silently thanked Lavender and Parvati for convincing Ginny to wear such a becoming outfit. "Here, d'you want my sweater?" He asked, starting to pull it off.

"No, it's all right, we're nearly there and it'll be warm inside. Thanks for offering, though." Almost automatically his arm went around her shoulders, both to keep her warmer and to pull the slim figure closer to him. They entered the dancefloor that way, blinking from the sudden light. Dean hung her scarf up in a safe place, then led her by the hand onto the polished wood floor.

"D'you know the swing, or should I try to teach you?" He asked, grinning.

Suddenly very bashful, she replied, "I'd like to learn, but you don't have to go to any trouble, really." Before she'd even gotten to the 'really' Dean had begun to teach her the basic step, watching her feet. Luckily for him she was a very quick learner and got it after only two repetitions.

For over an hour they swung, spun, and laughed. Despite the fact that she hadn't known how to dance properly, Ginny was easily the better of the two. She was mentally ready for anything, even the complex turns he dreamed up. Her memory held up well under the addition of several new variations until a different sort of music played. Glad for a respite from the rapidity of the swing music, they entered into a slower movement, revolving on the spot.

The hand that had been lightly resting below her shoulder blade slipped down to her waist, soon joined by his other. She realized in a moment what he was doing and linked her hands behind his neck. A breath he hadn't known he was holding was released in a relaxed sigh, blowing some of his breath onto her upturned face and ruffling her curls.

She couldn't help smiling. It was infectious, almost like laughing or yawning. His eyes glittered happily, shining even in the dark, and his exuberant grin was sigh-worthy. Without realising it, she analyzed him, from his dark brown hair to his speech. He was handsome, that went without saying, and clearly attentive. Playing football for so long had made him agile, which was probably why he was such a graceful dancer. She must have seemed hopefully content, because he leaned in a bit and caught her lips gently. Drawn into his strong hold, she reveled in his warmth and the amazing softness of his jumper.

Taking her willingness for consent, he held her longer, waiting until he saw spots of fire on his eyelids to take a breath. A moment later he kissed her again, inwardly warm and satisfied. She just seemed to fit into his arms, and he loved that feeling.

Ginny enjoyed it for only so long. She could almost feel the eyes boring into her back and neck, sending cold shivers not just up and down her spine, but through her skeleton and even into her mind. It wouldn't have taken an Auror to catch the culprit; she knew as surely as she breathed (or held her breath, considering what she was doing) that *he* was watching her. That brought her back to her senses momentarily, as she was in Dean's comfortable, easy presence, and knew she would need to breathe in a few seconds. She smiled at him once more, pleased to know that he had only one large flaw.

He wasn't Draco Malfoy.

A/N: I like Dean, don't you? Go West Ham! Anyway, I know that in the HP movie they had him played by a black, but there was no mention of that in the book, so I left him Caucasian. Not that I have anything against blacks, I just wanted to go by the books. Of course, if I've made a mistake, I'm sure you won't hesitate to correct me.