Chapter 2
Ginny told no one else about her coming excursion to the Astronomy Tower. She went to bed as usual, but at ten forty-five she rose, dressed quietly, and slipped down the dormitory stairs.
There were a few older students still in the Common Room, but none of them paid her any attention as she slid as quietly as possible out of the Portrait Hole. Shushing the Fat Lady, she closed it again and padded down the dark corridor.
Several times she was forced to duck under an ornamental table or squeeze into an unoccupied classroom as teachers or prefects patrolled the hallways, but she managed to reach the Tower stairs without being sighted. Praying that no one else had decided to star-gaze that night, she slipped up the long, winding staircase and onto the top of the Tower. The wind was blowing fiercely, and she wished she had brought her cloak.
Her heart sank as she emerged to find that the Tower was already occupied. The other occupant stood with back to her, wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up. Ginny sighed quietly and walked softly to the other side of the Tower, hoping that whoever it was would go away soon without noticing her.
She waited for a quarter of an hour, the wind whipping through her thin school robes and making her shiver. Still the "Secret Admirer" did not come. She began to wonder if it was all some joke – maybe Jennike had sent that note. Maybe that's why she'd been so enthusiastic about it all. Ginny sighed, and had nearly made up her mind to creep back to her dormitory when her sigh was echoed. She looked around, startled – she had nearly forgotten the cloaked figure across from her. As it turned, she caught a glimpse of a green-and-silver crest and shrank as far into the shadows as she could, hardly breathing. The stranger walked past her without seeming to see, but before it began the winding descent it pushed its hood off with another sigh of exasperation.
Ginny gasped audibly. The hood revealed a shock of pale, white-blond hair. But the face underneath bore none of its usual disgusted malice; instead, it was tired and exasperated.
As he heard Ginny gasp, Malfoy turned, startled. "What are you –," he started, and then stopped, his face a mask of surprise. "Oh," was all he could manage.
Ginny stood still, petrified with fear. She waited for the sneer to set in on Malfoy's face, but instead, he blushed.
"Sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes.
Ginny was speechless. He was apologizing to her? Would he run the next moment to Professor Snape to turn her in for being out after hours? Was this the Malfoy she knew and loathed?
"I mean . . ." he stopped, clearly embarrassed.
"It's okay," Ginny squeaked, eyeing the stairwell. Could she run past him, perhaps, and make it back to the Gryffindor Tower in time to deny whatever he said?
"I mean . . ." he repeated. He took a deep breath and continued in a rush. "I mean, I was the one who wrote you that note."
Ginny gaped at him, completely lost for words.
"I, uh . . . well, I wanted to know if you'd go to the ball with me." He blew out an irritated breath and jammed his hands in his robe pockets, staring angrily at the ground. "I guess not." He turned to go, his pale hair glinting in the moonlight.
"Wait!" Ginny said, struck by the dejected expression he wore. "No, I – I'm just surprised."
He whirled around, a strangely guarded expression on his face. "You're not just going to send me down?" his voice sounded slightly strangled.
"Well . . . uh . . ." Ginny stopped.
"Would you?" he persisted. "Go to the ball with me?" His face shone hopeful for a moment, but then he turned around again, looking irritated. "No, you wouldn't," he said without looking at her. "I mean, I know I've been a jerk and all, but I thought that maybe you'd just accept right off because, after all, I am pretty good-looking."
Ginny moved closer. "Sure," she said. He spun around again, looking shocked.
"You'll what?" he said, amazed. "You will?"
Ginny nodded. "Sure," she repeated.
"Thanks," he said fervently. Then he blushed again, hugged her quickly, and disappeared down the stairs.
"Oh," he called up, "And please call me Draco."
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"I'll meet you in the Common Room," Hermione told Harry and Ron as they were packing up their Potions utensils. "I have a . . . homework question." She glanced toward the front of the dungeon, where Snape was speaking with Malfoy over a textbook. Harry shrugged and followed Ron out of the dungeon.
"Weird," Ron said as they went out. "You'd think she'd avoid Snape."
"You'd think a lot of things," was all Harry said. He glanced back toward the dungeon, which was rapidly emptying of its students. "Think we should just wait for her?"
Ron shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. How long could she be?"
They walked quietly back to stand outside of the dungeon. After a few moments the crowd of exiting students had dissipated, and Hermione had still not emerged.
"Think we should rescue her?" Ron asked dubiously in an undertone. Before Harry could reply, they heard voices raised in the dungeon.
"Think of what the Headmaster would say!" It was, unmistakably, Hermione. She sounded tense and unusual, and not as if she were discussing homework at all.
"But . . ." Snape's voice was softer, as if he wished to remain unheard.
"Please," said Hermione. "I told you, it'd be a scandal . . ."
"I don't care." Snape was urgent, and Harry's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Please, Severus . . ."
Ron's face mirrored the astounded disgust Harry was experiencing. Had he heard her right?
"Well, all right, then." Snape was irritated. There was the sound of a book being slammed onto stone, and a moment later Hermione emerged from the dungeon. She looked as if she'd been crying.
She stopped when she saw Ron and Harry, and shot them murderous looks before grabbing them both and dragging them along until they were out of earshot of the Potions dungeon.
"Hermione," said Ron in a tone that hovered between astonishment and disgust.
"Well, I told you I'd been asked to the Valentine Ball, hadn't it?" Hermione snapped, walking quickly. Ron did a half-run to catch up with her.
"You mean that – that thing – asked you – his student – to – to go to the Valentine's Ball with – with him?"
"Yes," Hermione snapped.
"That's why you wouldn't wait for me?" Ron shouted.
"Well maybe if you'd made any attempt to ask me, I would've listened!" Hermione replied angrily. "But you didn't! Severus asked first, and I had to think about it . . ."
Harry made a disbelieving noise. Hermione whirled on him, her face flaming. "Well, I can't help it!" she said, shooting a murderous glance at Ron. "If he likes me, then . . ."
"Hermione, he's a professor," said Harry incredulously. "He's probably like fifty-something."
"No, he's not," Hermione said, her face crimson. "He's twenty-eight!"
"Right, and you're fifteen," said Harry. "And you're a student."
"He asked m!" Hermione said furiously. "I didn't ask him!"
Ron muttered something angrily under his breath, earning a wrathful glare from Hermione. "I didn't say yes," she said. "I know how it would look. Besides . . ." she stopped, blushing even more furiously (if that were possible).
"Besides what?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Besides nothing," Hermione muttered. Ron whirled on her, walking backwards up the corridor.
"What?" he bellowed. "Did Professor Dumbledore ask you too? Draco Malfoy? Crabbe? Goyle? Are you going to the dance with Justin Finch-Fletchely?"
"No," Hermione said, looking at the floor. "No one else asked me."
"What is it, then?" Ron needled.
"Well, it's just that . . ." suddenly her head snapped up and she glared defiantly at Ron. "If you must know, I've been writing to Sirius!"
Harry choked and dropped his Potions textbook on his toe, yelping at the impact.
"You what?" he asked when he had retrieved the tome. "You . . . Sirius? As in, my godfather?"
Hermione nodded. "He's really nice, you know . . ."
Harry stared at her.
"I mean, all he said was that . . ."
"That what?" Ron broke in. "Come off it, Hermione. You're in over your head."
"That he'd like to get to know me better . . ."
"Did you tell him how you've been cozying up to Snape?" Ron demanded. "Bet he'd love that, his girlfriend and his archenemy. He'd –,"
"I'M NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND!" Hermione shouted, near tears. Before Harry could reply, Professor McGonagall hurried toward them.
"As fascinating as your social lives are, no doubt, it is time for your next class," she said icily, eyeing their hands (empty, but for their Potions supplies). "And I see that you are not ready. Ten points from Gryffindor, each, and hurry."
"See what you've done now, Hermione?" Ron asked furiously as McGonagall hurried along the corridor past them. "Thirty points from Gryffindor, and all because you have a crush on Snape!"
Hermione burst into tears and ran past Ron in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.
"Really, you should give her a break," said Harry dubiously.
"A break?" Ron asked incredulously. "When she nearly said she'd let Snape take her to the students' ball?"
"Yeah, well, it is a little . . . weird," Harry admitted.
"He's evil!" Ron said fervently. "And all that junk with Sirius . . . come on, Harry, doesn't it make you mad?"
"Well . . . she's still my friend," Harry defended. "Even if she, uh, has some dorky love interests." He sighed. "And we'll probably be expected to grow to love Snape."
Ron stared at him. "WHAT?"
"Well, it's what happens all the time in this sort of clichéd existence," Harry said morosely.
"You – what?" Ron repeated, completely baffled.
"I mean, we are in a fanfiction, aren't we?"
"What on earth do you mean?"
Harry sighed again. "Well, I guess I'm speaking hypothetically. Because, you know, fan fiction characters have a tendency to speak in the third person in this sort of thing. So if we were . . ."
"You're definitely nuts," said Ron disgustedly.
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
