Chapter 2
Waking up in her dorm room the next day, Ginny took a deep breath and her eyes widened questioningly. She smelled like guys' cologne! Another sniff. Expensive cologne at that. Looking down, she sleepily wondered why she was wearing a dark green cashmere sweater. She shrugged and snuggled back down into the covers. Stranger things have happened. Ginny curled up under the mass of warm blankets and allowed herself the leisure of falling back asleep. She was sure she had at least an hour before braekfast, and there was no sense in waking up at dawn over a sweater. She'd think about it later.
-45 minutes later-
An annoying whizzing noise brought Ginny out of her dream. She groggily struggled out from under the tangle of her bedsheets and searched for the noise. Aha! it was coming from the mess of dirty robes on her floor. Almost falling out of bed, the redhead stumbled towards the source of the offending whizzing sound. Oh God. It was that bloody Remembrall that Harry had caught for Neville in his first year. Neville had given it to Ginny after the first Yule Ball, said it was useless because he never remembered what he had forgotten- and she'd chucked it on the floor and forgotten about it. Speaking of forgotten- why was this annoying novelty making such a racket?! What the bloody hell had she- oh no. Ginny frantically checked her watch as her mirror, the only presence,' in the room, observed her face turning ashen.
The mirror chuckled kindly. Ginny whipped into a standing position (she'd been searching for a clean robe on the floor) and glared.
Oh can it, you, the petite girl hissed. Why were there no clean robes? ARGH! She'd have to go to her first class, second year Muggle studies, in her crumpled clothes from yesterday. Oh well. The professor would probably think it was an attempt at getting extra credit. The funny thing was, she'd probably earn the Gryffindors a few house points. Ginny bit back a giggle. Sometimes accidents had the funniest way of working out.
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The Slytherin table in the Great Hall was bustling with activity. Draco Malfoy sat in the center of it, though he still managed to remain ignorant to the goings-on around him. The pale blonde was intently studying the Gryffindor table, but to his tablemates he was gazing intently at Blaise Zabini's shoulder, where the arm of a short blonde girl rested.
Drake, I know Keiara's hot, but she's my girlfriend, said Blaise jokingly, though a trained eye could pick up on the fact that Blaise's arm tightened protectively on the small girl's waist. Draco happened to notice, and smirked. Though he hadn't heard what Blaise said, Draco's icy eyes were trained to pick up on body language.
Relax man. We all know how tight you guys are. Besides, I'd never make a move on your girl. Though there's no denying she's hot, Draco said, flattery coming easily to his lips. Anyone who knew him well would know that he wouldn't hesitate to steal someone else's property,' be it a girl or a broomstick. He could always get away with it too, because he was a Malfoy, and that was what Malfoys did. Ari (a nickname some of her friends called her) blushed and smiled slightly at Draco, whose eyes had already settled back on the loud Gryffindor table. He furrowed his brow in consternation. Where was the littlest Weasley? Class started in ten minutes. He glared, grabbed a scone, and swished off to get his books, ignoring the good-natured curiosity thrown at him by his friends.
Where's the fire? Blaise said (ever so wittily, Draco thought sarcastically), raising a giggle from Ari. God that girl was easily amused. Draco bit back a snort. Too giggly for him.
Hey Draco, purred Pansy Parkinson suggestively, I'd slide down your pole any day.
Draco used all of his patience to keep from slapping Pansy. What a disgusting slut! he thought to himself. Nothing like Ginny, he mused, letting a small smile play across his fine white features. He suddenly realized what he was thinking, and amazingly kept his jaw from dropping in shock. What am I thinking?! he wondered, somewhat disturbed. Where had this new infatuation NO! this new interest in Ginny Weasley come from? There. Interest was the right word. Definitely.
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Ginny's last-minute scheme had worked- Professor Martin had awarded the Gryffindor house 35 points for her creative way of incorporating [her] studies into every day life. Ginny ignored the whispers and odd looks her fellow students gave her- so what if her clothes were a bit wrinkled? Did it matter if they thought she was a suck-up? Nah, she thought, They're just jealous because I got points and they didn't. Ginny held her head high and sat down in her seat between Olivia Marcell, a 4th year Ravenclaw, and Marcie Bowman, a Slytherin in her own year.
Marcie sneered at Ginny. What'd you do to get that sweat, slut? The redhead gave her a withering glare and turned toward Olivia, who gave her a knowing (knowing? What does everyone know' that I don't??) look and commenced to talk about her boyfriend, a blonde Muggle actor named Thomas something-or-other. Ginny nodded along, raising her eyebrows appreciatively when Olivia pulled a picture out of her knapsack, then facing forward and attempting to listen to the tall, exotic-looking Professor Martin, who was wearing extravagant robes of bloodred and chattering enthusiastically about Muggle literature and shaking spears, or some such nonsense. Ginny took a few notes using her QuikQuotes Quill, then went back to chatting with Olivia.
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From his seat in the back of the room, Draco forced back a groan. Damn! Ginny was wearing his sweater. Their stupid prat of a teacher had practically wet herself with glee, her eyes alight as she praised Ginny's, initiative and creativity,, traits Draco was referring to in his head as stupidity and sheer lack of wits. Why hadn't she changed? Oh bugger. Now Crabbe was lumbering towards her, a stupid smirk on his doughy face. Quick- deny or exaggerate? Deny or exa- No time for that now-
Crabbe held up his hand, presumably for a high-five. Regaining his composure, Draco cocked an eyebrow at his,
C'mon mate! Crabbe leered, smiling dumbly.
Draco eyed the beefy hand as if it were a dead fish. And to what do I owe this honour? he sneered.
The oaf continued to look astoundingly, disturbingly stupid, and pronounced, You nailed the little Weasel! and looked at Draco curiously. You did, didn't you?
A plot took form in Draco's head. he swallowed, shoving that little voice called Guilt into the depths of his consciousness. Yeah, sorta.
Crabbe mistook his vagueness for, but you aren't getting details, and sighed. Then, the thin hand met the large, pudgy one in a high-five, and Crabbe leered at the small redhead sitting a few rows from the front. Draco quashed his conscience and settled in to listen to Professor Martin describe Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
And never was there a story of more woe/than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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Author's Note: Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter, the fic is actually taking a life of its own LOL. I don't know if the whole song base, thing is going to work out any more, but hopefully it'll still be good! Can you believe what Draco did? *shakes head* What a cruel little boy. But it'll all work out. Hopefully.
Disclaimer: I just realized I haven't done a disclaimer at all. So here. The characters you recognize don't belong to me, no surprise there. Olivia Marcell is my friend, Marcie Bowman is a random fictional character, my friends might know who Keiara is....:oP Best I Ever Had (Grey Sky Morning)' is the property of Vertical Horizon, and the Romeo and Juliet quote is Shakespeare's. Der.
Please please please READ AND REVIEW! I don't have enough time (about to catch the bus for school) to thank all my reviewers, I'll do that next chappie. Love you all!
3 Alli
