Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down
-Evanescence, "Haunted"

CHAPTER 3

Ginny had never been more relieved to finally arrive at Hogwarts, except for perhaps that time in her second year when a horde of Dementors had infiltrated the Hogwarts Express. The journey to Hogwarts this year had been a long, tiring, and emotionally draining one as well. But now she sat contentedly in the Great Hall, watching the Sorting Ceremony take place. As each first year approached the three-legged stool one by one, her thoughts traveled back to when she was in her first year and had waited, seemingly forever, in line to put the Sorting Hat on her own head. She closed her eyes, remembering how anxious she had been, and how her worrying had only increased as she had watched all the other students get sorted before her. She'd wanted to be a Gryffindor so badly, not only to make her family proud by continuing their legacy, but also because she wouldn't feel safe and at home unless she was in the same house as her brothers. But she supposed Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn't be that bad, even though it would set her apart from her entire family. Then, at long last, it was her turn, and the battered and frayed old hat had been positioned onto her head of red curls, the oversized rim drooping over her eyes. She had trembled and fretted throughout the whole process. She was unduly afraid that she was going to be placed in Slytherin, because she wasn't always as good or brave or honest as she could've been, like how she had been keeping her new magic diary a secret from her family.
Ginny was so wrapped up in her reminiscing that she gave a startled jump when she heard the hat yell out, "Slytherin!", but then she realized that she was back in the present. She watched as Jamie Zabini hopped off of the stool, smiling broadly, and joined the Slytherin table. Ginny caught a quick glimpse of Draco, applauding Jamie and conversing with his surrounding friends, before Dumbledore tapped his glass and cleared his throat.
"Before we begin our feast," Dumbledore began, his jovial voice ringing through the silent Great Hall, "I have an important announcement to make."
"Oh, hurry up, I'm starving!" Ron muttered, gazing longingly at the empty plate in front of him.
Dumbledore gave a patient smile in the direction of the Gryffindor table as if he could read Ron's thoughts. "I am pleased to welcome Professor Willamette, who has kindly agreed to fill the position of our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling over the applauding students. "Let us hope that the so-called 'curse' on the job will be lifted and Professor Willamette will be with us for many years to come."
A witch at the staff table smiled faintly as the students peered up at her to take her in. She had thin, crimpy brown hair that flowed down her back like a river of dark chocolate, and her eyes were a shocking fluorescent blue. She wore an expression that was far-off and somewhat detached, though at the same time she seemed very keen to her surroundings.
"I think I know who she is!" Ron exclaimed to Harry and Hermione as he eagerly plunged his fork into the mound of mashed potatoes that had just appeared on his plate. "She used to work at the Ministry of Magic, but she had to leave to help fight full-time against You-Know-Who. Apparently, it was too risky for her to stay."
"What's she doing here, then?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"I also heard that she used to attend Hogwarts... and she was in Slytherin." Ron continued, wrinkling his nose.
Ginny took a second glance at the staff table. Ron seemed to be correct about this new teacher, since Snape was wearing an expression that suggested that he might know her from somewhere. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen him look at a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with the absence of resentment.
"Oh, great, that's all we need," Ginny heard Harry saying, "Another biased teacher."
"Just because she was a Slytherin doesn't mean she's going to be biased." Hermione said pragmatically.
Ron choked on his pumpkin juice. "Yeah, and Dumbledore's a Death Eater." As Ron went into a lengthy tirade about the sneakiness and malevolence that existed in every member, present or former, of Slytherin house, Ginny suddenly felt a prickly sensation crawling up her spine – the feeling one gets when someone is watching them. Her eyes raked over the crowd of students in the Hall until they met, to her surprise, Draco's. She stiffened abruptly, regarding the boy who was so intently regarding her. His expression was unreadable, except for the smirk that was so permanently etched on his face that Ginny wondered if he slept with it plastered to his lips. She squirmed slightly under his piercing stare, wishing his eyes wouldn't bore into her so relentlessly, but she refused to turn away from him until he turned away from her. Her heart started to pound with the question of why he was studying her so carefully. To try to intimidate her, maybe? But how did he know that she would look back at him? Leave it to Malfoy to turn something like eye contact into a method of torture! She had almost reached the point where she could no longer endure this battle of willpower when Pansy Parkinson slithered into the seat next to Draco and said something to him that made him turn his head towards her. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her muscles relax as Draco's gaze left her, and she turned back to her dinner.

* * *

"Hurry up, or else we'll be late!" Ginny called to Ron and Harry, loathing whatever it was in her that made her risk being late for her first class of the year by waiting around for those two boys to finish eating their breakfast so that she could accompany them in the halls. The loneliness she had felt on the train still hadn't been cured, and trying to hang around with her brother and her crush while Hermione was spending time at the library wasn't helping too much.
Smack! They had raced down a corridor, and Ron had collided into a person coming around the corner.
"Watch where you're going, Weasley!" Draco shouted loudly, shoving Ron off of him. "These robes are worth more than your whole house, and I don't want your filth all over them."
Ron's freckles vanished under a crimson current of embarrassment washing over his face. Harry spoke up, "Shame you can't use all that money to buy yourself an attitude adjustment."
"Shame your sidekick can't even seem to speak for himself anymore," Draco cast a glance at Ron, who was raising a fist. Draco ducked just in time before it hit him, and he retaliated by swinging a heavy textbook at Ron.
Harry and Hermione scrambled to restrain Ron from fighting even further, and Ginny grabbed Draco's arm and struggled to yank the book out of it.
"I said I don't want Weasley filth all over my robes," Draco snapped at her, pulling away.
Ginny's gaze dropped to the floor, and she mumbled something.
"Look at me when you're speaking to me. I can't understand a word you're saying." Draco commanded impatiently, aiming to strike the same terror into her that he felt whenever his father spoke to him that way.
Ginny wanted to keep staring at his scuff-free shoes, avoiding his leaden eyes, but she forced her eyes to travel upwards to meet his bitter-cold gaze. "I said I'm taking fifteen points from Slytherin. And I'll also be reporting this."
"Yet you let your brother right off the hook," Draco observed. "And they say Slytherins are the biased ones! That's a laugh."
Ginny ground her teeth. "I saw what happened. You started it. An extra point off for talking back to a Prefect."
"Ooh, trying to look tough in front of the Head Boy?" Draco sneered in a slightly singsong voice.
Ginny glanced quickly at Harry, who had averted his eyes away, pretending not to have heard Draco's comment. Ron nudged Harry, and they hurried off to class, leaving Ginny to face Draco alone. She swiveled her head back to Draco, so infuriated and embarrassed by his taunt that a red haze seemed to fog her vision. "Why do you always have to pick on me like that?!"
Draco arched an eyebrow, as if no one had ever been thick enough to ask him such a question before. "Why, you ask? Well, let me see." He held up his hand in order to tick off the reasons on his fingers. "You're a Weasley – your whole family is dirt poor with mops of raggedy red hair and so many siblings I don't know how you keep track of them all. You're a Gryffindor – your whole house is so stuck in their idiotic principles of bravery and integrity that you all fail to see what meddling fools you are. You've been head over heels for Potter since the dawn of time – I think that one's self-explanatory. And finally, you're a pathetic loser who lets everyone walk all over you as they please." He shook his head in mock sympathy. "It's just too easy to get under that freckled skin of yours."
"And you think you're so much better than me?" she snarled, trying to keep her trembling voice under control. "Well, since you were kind enough to give me an analysis of my personality, Malfoy, let me give you one of yours. First of all, you're nothing but a bratty little kid who goes running to his daddy every time the tiniest thing doesn't go your way. Without your family's name and wealth, you wouldn't last a day in this world. And you know it. You hide behind it. The only reason you can fool your little Slytherin friends into thinking you're such a big shot is because their brains are the size of a pea. And I don't know what kind of spell you use to get girls to fall all over you, but it must be a pretty strong one, since it would take a lot to overlook what a worthless bit of slime you are. Obviously not a long-lasting one, though, since you can't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks. But I guess these kinds of people are the only kind of company you can keep, since anyone with enough intelligence to tie their shoelaces sees you for what you really are: a coward."
For a fleeting instant, Ginny saw something flicker in Draco's wintry eyes – could it be fear? But he quickly blinked it away, and his eyes returned to their usual lifeless state. But she could tell that he had been frightened to some extent, from the way his voice cracked like ice in a warm drink when he spoke next. "Back off, Weasley, or I'll Transfigure you into a pineapple." He brandished his wand under her nose to show that he wasn't kidding. He could easily get away with it, too, since the corridors were nearly empty by now. When she remained quiet, he lowered his wand. "That's better. You really should see someone about those anger management problems you have, or else you might find yourself in quite a sticky situation later on down the road if you have any more... outbursts."
"That was not an outburst. I'm fine," Ginny insisted, but her clenched fists and gritting teeth said otherwise. She stormed off with her head bowed, gripping her armful of books tightly.
Draco pivoted around and stalked into the History of Magic classroom, sliding into his usual seat in the back row. As he listened to Professor Binns rattle off about The Mermaid Declaration of Rights, he became aware of something tugging at the back of his mind, nagging him, troubling him.
"The only reason you can fool your little Slytherin friends into thinking you're such a big shot is because their brains are the size of a pea..."
Okay, so maybe Crabbe and Goyle weren't the sharpest of companions one could have, but there were other qualities that were necessary in an associate. The important thing was that they provided automatic protection and loyal obedience for him. Plus, he could tell them anything. But the same could be said for a brick wall. The only reason he could tell them anything was that half the time they couldn't even comprehend what he was saying.
"... you can't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks..."
Now that's a lie, concluded Draco. Everyone knows I've been with Pansy for quite a while... Well, she isn't exactly my girlfriend, but she's always available for an adequate shag or an ego boost. He and Pansy still hadn't become an official couple, and both of them preferred it this way, though for different reasons. Pansy tirelessly enjoyed "the thrill of the chase", as she called it, reveling in what she saw of as their flirtatious games of cat-and-mouse. Draco, however, found it convenient to be able to have all the perks of having a girlfriend without having the burdens that came with being in an actual relationship. So, for convenience's sake, he humored her into thinking that she was the one who had control over him, but he knew that there was no way this could be possible. Draco Malfoy was always in control, of himself and of those who followed him.
His cohorts looked up to him and gave him the attention he craved. With them, he was always the superior leader, never the inferior follower. Everything about him and the way he presented himself demanded respect, from the renowned name he'd inherited (and all the wealth and power that came with it) to the way he strutted around the Slytherin common room looking smug. No one there saw through him – the way Ginny had. He couldn't stop thinking about their skirmish in the corridor. He was beginning to regret how he had demanded that she look at him while talking to him, because once she had met his eyes, she had seen straight into them, like open doors. And she had correctly interpreted what she had seen in them, unlike anyone ever had.
So what if there'd been some truth in Ginny's words? Draco was satisfied with the way things were in his life at school, and he wasn't about to let a little Weasel tell him how to behave.

* * *

Ordinarily, Ginny was comfortable with going to her professors if she needed help with a homework assignment, but Snape was an exception. She was intimidated by the way he swept about the chilly dungeons like a large bat and the way he seized every opportunity to belittle anyone belonging to Gryffindor house. He was especially brutal towards Ginny out of all the sixth years, probably because of her blatant crush on Harry. However, she had no other option than to seek help from him this time. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't grasp exactly what the effect of a Desensitizing Draught was, which was the topic of the essay he'd assigned.
Sighing in defeat, she pushed a hand against the dungeon door, and it swung open with an ominous creak. Her eyes roved around the classroom, past the shelves upon shelves of containers holding slimy-looking objects, and she saw a person sitting at one of the desks. But it wasn't Snape.
"What are you doing here, Weasley? Shouldn't you be off chasing after Potter or something?"
Ginny's almond eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "I'm here to ask Snape a question. What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She spat his name out as if it were the foulest word she had ever spoken.
"This is the detention you so graciously arranged for me when you reported me. I'm helping Professor Snape prepare some ingredients for a potion."
Ginny frowned, thinking it extremely unfair that Snape's idea of a detention had been assigning Draco to spend time with his favorite teacher to make preparations for his favorite class. It was no strain at all to Draco; in fact, he was probably enjoying his detention. Everyone knew that while Draco did only average in his other classes, when it came to Potions he was just as genius and proficient as Hermione, if not more so. It wasn't just Slytherin bias that caused Snape to favor Draco above all other students. He could accomplish in no more than fifteen minutes what it would take the rest of the class a full hour to complete.
"Snape left to get some lacewing flies." Draco told Ginny. "He should be back any moment. So either come back later or wait here, just stop standing in the doorway like an idiot."
"Oh. I – I'll just wait here, then." Slowly and gingerly, she settled into the desk beside Draco and took out her quill and a scroll of parchment, thinking that she could take a crack at her essay while she was waiting. She scrawled "Ginny Weasley" atop the parchment with a flourish, and then she waited with her quill poised above her paper for an opening sentence to come to her. But something was preventing her from concentrating on her essay – something was off.
Her line of vision kept straying, against her will, to the boy next to her. He was too absorbed in his work to even notice that her eyes were absentmindedly traveling over him, or so she believed. For an instant she thought she saw him shift uneasily, as if he was aware of her presence even though he didn't acknowledge it, but then she reckoned that if he knew she was watching him he'd surely have something to say about it.
What had lured her gaze to him was the way he was preparing the potion ingredients with such dexterity and care. He was hunched over his desk, taking remarkably precise measures as he skillfully peeled the skin off of a dead boomslang, looking more focused than Ginny had ever seen him. He seemed practically godlike, the way he hovered over the assortment of ingredients that were arranged on his desk. She couldn't help but notice his hands. Their near-translucent tone made the traceries of his pale blue veins stand out, and his fingers were long and slender and agile, each one ending in a smooth, lustrous fingernail that made Ginny think of delicate seashells. She had always been vaguely curious as to how someone as vile as Draco could have so many admirers and lovers, and maybe this was the answer – his nice hands. But, no, there had to be more to it than that. So she let her eyes roam further, examining his profile to try to see where the attraction might lie.
His complexion was a milky ivory tone, and his chiseled features made him look considerably older than seventeen, though his cheeks were lightly tinted with a pinkish glow that wasn't visible from a distance and lent him a somewhat vulnerable quality that was very uncharacteristic of him. His eyes were the stony grey color of storm clouds, but on a closer inspection Ginny found that they held soft flecks of light that were accentuated by his feather-light hair. When he blinked, she noticed that his eyes were framed by long, even lashes. She tore her gaze away from his eyes, afraid that she might drown in them if she looked at them too long, and instead she studied his face. His nose was perfectly straight and came to a distinct point, and so did his chin, though not as prominently as his nose. His jaw was angular, and his lips were pressed together in intense concentration as he crushed a bicorn horn to a fine powder. His neck was craned over his desk, and his green-and-silver striped tie hung loosely around it in a casual manner. In the dim torchlight of the dungeons, his fine locks of hair were the sleek silvery shade of unicorn blood instead of their usual washed-out golden color. His hair was scrupulously slicked back and combed so meticulously that Ginny supposed he took the same amount of care in his appearance as he did in his potion-making. He was wearing the cool, aloof expression that constantly lingered on his face, the expression that suggested he was always bored with his surroundings. But, when looked at a certain way, this expression gave him a rather sophisticated and graceful air, almost... handsome. So this is how Malfoy looks when he thinks there's no one watching him. He looked perplexingly different when removed from the crowd of Slytherin cronies that usually surrounded him, and Ginny couldn't put her finger on what it was that made him look so aberrant, but she knew that the way he looked so serious and focused and, well, human contributed to this difference she was witnessing.
Ginny couldn't make sense out of the thoughts tumbling around inside her head. She had looked at Draco many times before, looked at him with hatred, looked at him with disgust. But now, here she was, staring at him like she'd never seen him before in the entire span of her existence. What am I thinking?! He was no mysterious and intriguing stranger, and there was no way to overlook what he was all about. He was Draco Malfoy; he slung insults as easily as he walked and talked; he discriminated against anyone who was not rich or pure of blood; he went out of his way to ensure that life at Hogwarts would be miserable for Ginny and her family and friends; he was the total opposite of everything her family stood for and everything that Harry was fighting for... Yes, Draco was nothing like Harry... Harry, who, through all his goodness and gallantry, still couldn't find a special place in his heart for the girl who loved him so honestly and dearly...
Ginny bit her lip and willed her attention back to her essay. Now was not the time to get lost in her hopeless musings. She was just lifting her quill to attempt another sentence when she noticed that she was inhaling a most delicious scent. She knew it must have been coming from Draco, since the dungeons had never possessed this aroma before. He smelled fresh and subtle, like the first snowfall of winter. Evil people aren't supposed to smell this good!, Ginny's mind growled. Refusing to resign herself to the fact that her attention had wandered well past the point of being able to return to her essay, she gripped her quill furiously and tried to ignore the distraction sitting beside her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his broad shoulders rise and fall rhythmically as he inhaled and exhaled, drawing in steady, relaxed breaths and then letting them out in slow sighs. Merlin, even his breathing is driving me insane! I can't take it anymore! The more she tried not to focus on the sound of his breathing, the more it seemed to fill her ears until it became practically deafening amidst the otherwise silent dungeon.
"Could you please keep it down?" she heard herself blurt out as she slammed her quill down on the table.
He whipped around to face her, a slight crease appearing between his brows. "Are you hearing things, Weasley? I'm not making any noise."
Ginny fidgeted tensely, wishing she hadn't said anything. But now that she had, she figured that it was necessary for her to defend herself. "Yes, you are! I'm sitting here trying to write an essay, and all I hear is–" she did an exaggerated imitation of Draco's breathing pattern.
Draco blinked and arched an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between amused and miffed. "So you're sitting there listening to me breathe? Good Lord, Weasley, I didn't know I was that fascinating. But since it's distracting you so much, I'll stop breathing, just for you." A hint of a smug smile crept onto his lips as he turned back to his desk. "And by the way, it's not polite to stare at somebody, did you know that?"
Ginny's face heated up like wildfire from the shame of being discovered, but she didn't miss a beat in firing back, "Then why were you staring at me during dinner our first day back?"
 "I said 'it's not polite to stare at somebody. You're a nobody."
He was deliberately dodging the question and Ginny knew it, but at the moment she was too frustrated to see straight, much less call him on it. "Stop being such a prat or I'll pull a Hermione and slap you right across the face."
"Just do that, Weasel, and I'll turn this dungeon into a murder scene," Draco eyed his wand, which was lying on his desk.
"I'd prefer if you didn't, Mr. Malfoy," came a silky voice from the doorway. Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing around him. "If Miss Weasley was causing trouble, all you have to do is inform me so I could take the appropriate measures to find a punishment..." Ginny could practically see him calculating the number of points he could subtract from Gryffindor. He peered over Draco's shoulder at the potion ingredients he had been preparing. "Commendable work, Mr. Malfoy. This will be very useful. You may go."
As Ginny watched Draco swagger out of the dungeon, throwing a warning glare over his shoulder at her, she decided that the light she had seen him in a few minutes ago had surely been the result of the inhalation of too many potion fumes. There was nothing attractive about Draco, no different side to him, no aspect to him besides the callous, arrogant one she had already experienced.

~*~*~*~

A/N: Chapter 3 is finally complete! I hope you found it enjoyable. Professor Willamette is a character I came up with spur-of-the-moment, but I think I've found a way I can fit her into the plot. Oh, and I lurved writing the description of Draco! I could write a whole novel just describing him alone. *fangirlish sigh*
Thanks to luvHP for her wonderful review! It really means a lot to me.
Coming up in Chapter 4... Quidditch season begins!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The lyrics at the top of the page are from a song by Evanescence (best band ever!). The line in the fic "she had seen straight into [his eyes], like open doors" is based on a line from another Evanescence song, "Bring Me To Life". Just in case you thought it sounded familiar.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it or have any comments to make. :)