The Ginnys have a confrontation with Ferret
The three Ginnys were like three points of a triangle as far as Malfoy was concerned. They could never come together whenever his image popped into their collective consciousness.
"Malfoy." Said hysterical Ginny over and over again. "Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy." Her great talent was to keep repeating worrying things in the vague hope that it would lead to a solution. "Shoes and hands," she whispered. "Shoes and hands."
Anally retentive Ginny hissed and spat like a salamander eating a Filibuster firework. "You know lass, you must be given the prize for the greatest idiot Hogwarts has ever seen! Malfoy is filthy, evil, horrible, he hates you! And you fucking dream of fucking him?!"
This last was in response to a most inconvenient dream that Ginny had had in the early hours of the morning. Inconvenient for two reasons. It immeasurably increased the mental gibbering inside Ginny's head, and it seemed to give a fresh dose of energy to dark, hidden Ginny.
She had woken with a start, her body tingling and throbbing. Her heart was racing. It was a level of sensation that you could only get in dreams. An orgasm, and not to put too fine a point upon it, a very long, very intense, very desirable explosion it had been.
Malfoy had come to her bed and they had made the two-backed beast. In the dream it had seemed the most natural thing to do. She even remembered mundane details, like their entwined bodies clumsily shuffling in the bed so that they could turn and she could straddle him.
His skin had been pale (of course), covered with the sheen of sweat. His fine hair had fallen over her face, making her feel like wild beast in a familiar cave. It seemed as if they had been at it for the thousandth time. She remembered his eyes flying open as she bit his throat, hard.
And his fingers had been everywhere, inside her mouth and inside her soft folds at the same time. She had bitten and licked them all over, sucking at the solid flesh of the palms, grabbing the fingers in a frenzy as she threw herself at him..
The morning had been difficult. Ginny winced as she felt the fear pool over her from one part of herself, the shock and recriminations from another Ginny, and worst of all, the soft chuckling of the hidden Ginny, turning and twisting beneath her collarbone. The weight of the Malfoy she was carrying around pulled her down, drained her of energy.
Neville found her staring over her plate morosely at lunch. After the usual prompting ("You look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking- chairs, what's up?") she asked what he would do if he ever wanted to sleep with a girl he hated.
He looked nonplussed for a moment. "You mean Millicent Bulstrode or Pansy Parkinson? No fear! But hold on..that can sometimes happen." He looked closely at her but she kept her mouth shut. No knowing what the three fiends inside her might say if she gave them the chance.
"It happens...sure. You know what they say, infatuation is like a cold. You can't cure it, just wait for it to pass. It's a biological thing. It's outside your conscious control. You can't choose who your body's attracted to. But you needn't give in to it, I guess...Who is it, Ginny?"
She started. "Just a question, Neville. I mean, lots of girls like boys who are really mean to them. Or who don't notice them, or dismiss them." She looked at Harry pointedly, and Neville was thrown off by the red herring. "You don't hate Harry!"
Ginny smiled. "No, but I resented him a bit for not noticing me. I don't anymore, of course!" she added quickly. Neville usually had comfort, and always some philosophy at hand.
So that was the explanation - hormones. Though why her hormones should ever choose to get themselves entangled with that stupid Ferret's hormones was anyone's guess, she thought spitefully.
Malfoy walked past right then. She registered the robes, the perfect shoes, the long fingers - all in the blink of an eye. The intensity of her orgasm (she had woken up as her body arched itself at the climax) rushed to her mind and she blushed fierily. He didn't notice, was gone in a sweep of silver-green robes.
It was her fate that he came into the Potions class just as she had started to heat an extremely flammable essential oil. She took her eyes off the cauldron for a second, which then turned into five seconds, then ten seconds, then fifteen, as she watched him. Snape walked off into his office just before the long flames shot out of her cauldron.
She panicked and lost her head completely. "Oh Gods, oh, Gods!" she shrieked. So great was her panic that she failed to notice the large sink right next to her. She blindly pushed it away from her; the cauldron fell on the floor and its contents flamed up before her eyes.
Malfoy stamped the flames out, picked up the cauldron and extinguished it in the sink. He hadn't lost his cool or his control of the situation. He turned to her and she saw contempt flame on his face. "Weasley!" he said sharply, in a tone like a good hard slap. "Don't panic! Gods!" His lips curled in a sneer and his disgust at her loss of control was obvious.
"Stupid female!" he muttered, obviously not caring to keep his voice down. He shook his robes out, turned on his heel and strode over the door. Ginny began to shake not just with nerves but with both shame at herself and anger at Malfoy's contempt.
All through scrubbing the soot stain from the floor (Snape 'excused' her from dinner to deal with it) she had repeated flashbacks of the curl of Malfoy's lip and his contemptuous tone: "Gods!" he had said, as if she were a complete incompetent.
"I wish I could make him panic," she thought savagely. "I wish I could make him shake and whimper with fright while I loomed over him and shouted 'Malfoy! Don't panic, you imbecilic no-good male!' That would show the stupid, ignorant, racist bigot!" Anger and resentment made her tremble this time, rather than any feeling of attraction.
She remembered the dream and felt a violent rage. That was it! That had got rid of the damned affinity that her hormones supposedly had for his. Attracted? Hands? Shoes? Had she been totally stupid? "Weasel," she told herself, "if all you had to do to get over Malfoy was set a cauldron on fire, I think you've got off lightly, my girl."
All three Ginnys concurred at last on that point. They were so angrily happy that her Malfoy feelings had returned to pure hatred that no-one noticed the silent melting-away of the dark, hidden Ginny.
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Ok, I've taken the suggestions of Fire Fairy and Venus on board! Broken up the paragraphs more, tried not to clutter it up with inessential detail. Great feedback you two! Thanks! You're really inspiring me to write this. Also, I know what you mean about careless spelling and grammar. They spoil otherwise good stories. Thanks for noticing that I try with those. I'm beginning to enjoy this. Hee hee! Back to hate-hate! Isn't Ferret a bad beast?
The three Ginnys were like three points of a triangle as far as Malfoy was concerned. They could never come together whenever his image popped into their collective consciousness.
"Malfoy." Said hysterical Ginny over and over again. "Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy." Her great talent was to keep repeating worrying things in the vague hope that it would lead to a solution. "Shoes and hands," she whispered. "Shoes and hands."
Anally retentive Ginny hissed and spat like a salamander eating a Filibuster firework. "You know lass, you must be given the prize for the greatest idiot Hogwarts has ever seen! Malfoy is filthy, evil, horrible, he hates you! And you fucking dream of fucking him?!"
This last was in response to a most inconvenient dream that Ginny had had in the early hours of the morning. Inconvenient for two reasons. It immeasurably increased the mental gibbering inside Ginny's head, and it seemed to give a fresh dose of energy to dark, hidden Ginny.
She had woken with a start, her body tingling and throbbing. Her heart was racing. It was a level of sensation that you could only get in dreams. An orgasm, and not to put too fine a point upon it, a very long, very intense, very desirable explosion it had been.
Malfoy had come to her bed and they had made the two-backed beast. In the dream it had seemed the most natural thing to do. She even remembered mundane details, like their entwined bodies clumsily shuffling in the bed so that they could turn and she could straddle him.
His skin had been pale (of course), covered with the sheen of sweat. His fine hair had fallen over her face, making her feel like wild beast in a familiar cave. It seemed as if they had been at it for the thousandth time. She remembered his eyes flying open as she bit his throat, hard.
And his fingers had been everywhere, inside her mouth and inside her soft folds at the same time. She had bitten and licked them all over, sucking at the solid flesh of the palms, grabbing the fingers in a frenzy as she threw herself at him..
The morning had been difficult. Ginny winced as she felt the fear pool over her from one part of herself, the shock and recriminations from another Ginny, and worst of all, the soft chuckling of the hidden Ginny, turning and twisting beneath her collarbone. The weight of the Malfoy she was carrying around pulled her down, drained her of energy.
Neville found her staring over her plate morosely at lunch. After the usual prompting ("You look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking- chairs, what's up?") she asked what he would do if he ever wanted to sleep with a girl he hated.
He looked nonplussed for a moment. "You mean Millicent Bulstrode or Pansy Parkinson? No fear! But hold on..that can sometimes happen." He looked closely at her but she kept her mouth shut. No knowing what the three fiends inside her might say if she gave them the chance.
"It happens...sure. You know what they say, infatuation is like a cold. You can't cure it, just wait for it to pass. It's a biological thing. It's outside your conscious control. You can't choose who your body's attracted to. But you needn't give in to it, I guess...Who is it, Ginny?"
She started. "Just a question, Neville. I mean, lots of girls like boys who are really mean to them. Or who don't notice them, or dismiss them." She looked at Harry pointedly, and Neville was thrown off by the red herring. "You don't hate Harry!"
Ginny smiled. "No, but I resented him a bit for not noticing me. I don't anymore, of course!" she added quickly. Neville usually had comfort, and always some philosophy at hand.
So that was the explanation - hormones. Though why her hormones should ever choose to get themselves entangled with that stupid Ferret's hormones was anyone's guess, she thought spitefully.
Malfoy walked past right then. She registered the robes, the perfect shoes, the long fingers - all in the blink of an eye. The intensity of her orgasm (she had woken up as her body arched itself at the climax) rushed to her mind and she blushed fierily. He didn't notice, was gone in a sweep of silver-green robes.
It was her fate that he came into the Potions class just as she had started to heat an extremely flammable essential oil. She took her eyes off the cauldron for a second, which then turned into five seconds, then ten seconds, then fifteen, as she watched him. Snape walked off into his office just before the long flames shot out of her cauldron.
She panicked and lost her head completely. "Oh Gods, oh, Gods!" she shrieked. So great was her panic that she failed to notice the large sink right next to her. She blindly pushed it away from her; the cauldron fell on the floor and its contents flamed up before her eyes.
Malfoy stamped the flames out, picked up the cauldron and extinguished it in the sink. He hadn't lost his cool or his control of the situation. He turned to her and she saw contempt flame on his face. "Weasley!" he said sharply, in a tone like a good hard slap. "Don't panic! Gods!" His lips curled in a sneer and his disgust at her loss of control was obvious.
"Stupid female!" he muttered, obviously not caring to keep his voice down. He shook his robes out, turned on his heel and strode over the door. Ginny began to shake not just with nerves but with both shame at herself and anger at Malfoy's contempt.
All through scrubbing the soot stain from the floor (Snape 'excused' her from dinner to deal with it) she had repeated flashbacks of the curl of Malfoy's lip and his contemptuous tone: "Gods!" he had said, as if she were a complete incompetent.
"I wish I could make him panic," she thought savagely. "I wish I could make him shake and whimper with fright while I loomed over him and shouted 'Malfoy! Don't panic, you imbecilic no-good male!' That would show the stupid, ignorant, racist bigot!" Anger and resentment made her tremble this time, rather than any feeling of attraction.
She remembered the dream and felt a violent rage. That was it! That had got rid of the damned affinity that her hormones supposedly had for his. Attracted? Hands? Shoes? Had she been totally stupid? "Weasel," she told herself, "if all you had to do to get over Malfoy was set a cauldron on fire, I think you've got off lightly, my girl."
All three Ginnys concurred at last on that point. They were so angrily happy that her Malfoy feelings had returned to pure hatred that no-one noticed the silent melting-away of the dark, hidden Ginny.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Ok, I've taken the suggestions of Fire Fairy and Venus on board! Broken up the paragraphs more, tried not to clutter it up with inessential detail. Great feedback you two! Thanks! You're really inspiring me to write this. Also, I know what you mean about careless spelling and grammar. They spoil otherwise good stories. Thanks for noticing that I try with those. I'm beginning to enjoy this. Hee hee! Back to hate-hate! Isn't Ferret a bad beast?
