Chapter Three: No One Listens, But It's So Hot When You Try

Draco's level of tension inflated as rapid as Ginny's had disappeared when he realized how in control she really was. With that bit of information his position was revealed and he was no longer able to inflict any pain in her isolated heart. He was well aware of the fact that Ginny knew he had no proposition addressing the arrangement and that he wasn't going to make use of her fictional blackmailer's favorite rendezvous. However, it seemed as though she wasn't well acquainted with the plot of her own story, as he assumed since it took her this long to remember the characters' first meeting, so his strategy of action still held some affect. He kept this in mind as she addressed him once again, and confirmed his thoughts.

"Malfoy, I know you don't have a clue as to what you're going to make me do, and your little ploy of dragging me here isn't bothering me at all. So I really don't know what you're trying to accomplish here this afternoon, especially since you have less of an idea than I do as to where this is going."

"But weasel, isn't that half the fun of life? No one ever knows where they're going." His drawl was cool as he inspected his cuticles numbly, and ignored her clapping across from him sarcastically.

"I knew it was some of my better work. The great Draco Malfoy is even quoting it!" She raved before allowing a scowl to sink into her moist lips, and took a small sip of her very hot vanilla tea. The taste mixed well with her strawberry flavored lip-gloss that Hermione had given her for her birthday several years prior. Strawberry had always been her favorite flavor other than coffee, and she nearly stopped wearing it after her relationship with Michael, since it was a flavor they shared together. Though she managed to still use it after she came to the conclusion that no stupid boy was going to stop her from a taste she enjoyed, nor would she allow him to hurt her. She always wanted to make a point of wearing the pants in a relationship, being possessed does that to a person, and that reason she hated Draco Malfoy. He made her feel uncertain of herself, like Alden, the main character in her story. Despite all that, she found herself feeding on the uncertainty like an addict and their drug; she needed it to feel alive. That's what scared her most.

"Actually, weasel, I can't deny you of that fact. It is some of your better mediocre work. If it wasn't profound, it was sure as hell interesting, the way your well-rounded characters relate their emotions and situations to the colors and style of their socks. Who would have known that something so subtle revealed so much?" Draco spoke in such a way that it was difficult to tell if he was being truly sincere, although his emotions were cleared in his next statement, "But my favorite part had to be your introduction. I couldn't help but laughing."

"It wasn't meant to be humorous." Ginny replied coolly while setting down her teacup, and crossing her opposite legs. She watched Draco stiffen as her nude legs brushed each other momentarily and the lavender beaded hem of her knee length skirt grazed her cream colored skin. It was nice having control, she thought haughtily.

"Yes, but that was the beauty of it. Do you not read your own stuff Weasley? Here, I'll read it to you?" he sneered before his pale hand snaked into his robe and pulled out a hard-covered purple book that she instantly recognized, "Ahem – The Sexuality of Socks, by Virginia E. Weasley . . ."he started while his sneer swiftly turned into a smirk, "Well, you see, socks are a very odd things. Gloving for your feet, some might say, but there is just something about these garments that make them the epitome of sexiness. Whether they are cotton, nylon, or just the lack there of, socks are...well... socks. Closer than close. They brush your legs like a painter and his easel. And if taking them off isn't an art of it's own?

"Socks are the more intimate piece of clothing, and show individuality. There are toe socks, knee socks, anklet socks, striped socks, argyle socks, black socks, crew socks, and full on stockings.

"And think about it. In your dirtiest fantasies if your lover is wearing anything, isn't it socks?

"With that in mind, get ready to dive into my tale of love, greed, and overall, socks..." He concluded with a sort of dramatic irony that only a Malfoy could muster, and it was heightened by Ginny's dropped jaw. Whatever she had expected for him, this was clearly not it, "Isn't that lovely. I can't help but smile every time I read that. You may not be especially talented, but you do know how to grasp a person's attention. But I suppose all writing whores do. It's part of the trade I assume."

            Her mouth snapped shut as she quickly muttered a retort, "Never assume Malfoy. Such things are rarely correct, and they only make the thinker appear foolish."

            Draco sneered as she gingerly set the book on to the table with an expression of triumph on his sharp features, "And of course you would know a lot about that, wouldn't you weasel?" before she could reply he changed the subject, And let's just thank God that your story was better than that introduction, I was surprised that I didn't set the book done right then."

            Ginny glanced at him chewing her painted purple nails that matched her skirt in consideration, "No one ever forced you to read it Malfoy."

            "Very true Weasley, but what the point of blackmail if you don't know what you're holding."

*       *       *       *

            They're afternoon in the dreary old Victorian house ended as oddly as it had begun. They had lingered only a while longer as Malfoy gave her instructions for their next meeting and he accompanied her back to the carriages. He then left without saying another word concerning the blackmail other than the reminder of what would happen if he approached him during school hours, which was not a very appealing suggestion. However, his final words were truly of the more disarming type as he whispered them in her ear has she entered the carriage,

            "The sent of strawberry doesn't suite you, Weasley. You seem more of the coffee scented kind." He closed the door before she could respond, but that boy really did know how to make a person uncomfortable. Ginny hated it, but at the same way she found it faintly attractive in an alarming way. And the thing that humored her the most was how he managed to go an entire afternoon without poisoning her with his venom tongue. Her mind drifted slightly toward the direction of that tongue on her lips but quickly dismissed the idea with a disruptive "eww" and fierce shaking of her head before breaking out into a loud fit of giggles that raged like the sea until the carriage arrived back at Hogwarts.

            Yes, this Draco Malfoy was an amusing one, and nearly worth her time. She would dominate him. And she would have fun. He was going to give her an adrenaline trip that was far beyond reason. He was the un-gettable get and the forbidden fruit that her curiosity longed to taste. Just to see if she could. Curiosity may have killed the cat but at least he had an interesting life.

*       *       *

            Hermione sat in the library alone like she had on many other occasions, however for some odd reason she was unable to complete any work. She had just splurged her time and had the most wonderful afternoon she had taken the time for in a month. She missed the pervious summer she had nearly wasted in Paris, for traveling the world was nothing if the ones you really care about are nowhere near. And the person who was entwined in her thoughts was spending his time probably playing quidditch in his backyard in the Burrow pretending that everything that they had been through the previous year hadn't happened. She loathed how he blinded himself from the world. He was so secure, so screened, that it was disgusting sometimes. Hermione had read one too many books to be the naïve little girl she once was, and she wanted to share her newfound knowledge. And she had decided that if when she came down to the Burrow that summer, if Ron wasn't ready after six years of friendship and three years of beating around the bush, she was going to move on. She couldn't wait around for him forever. Besides, she sick of pretending that their "realization period" during their stay at Grimmauld Place didn't happen. Their short romance ended nearly as soon as it had started when Harry arrived. They had made a pact not to let their friend in on the little secret because he already had enough on his plate as it was.  But that didn't excuse the fact that it had nearly been a year after the fact and they still hadn't come out to everyone about it.

            However, today was different. Today Ron had met her alone in a very public place to share a butterbeer, he had even placed his arm around her as they spoke and squeezed her shoulder lovingly whenever he got excited. And she only had herself to thank for the change. If she hadn't written that ten page letter to Victor, and explained to Ron that they didn't have a real relationship before her two and a half month log departure to Paris that summer, he never would have written to her confessing his true feelings which had previously just gone unsaid. Nevertheless, they still had no clue how Harry would take it and his previous outbursts did not push them in the right direction as they chose to still keep it a secret. But this afternoon everything changed when Harry, himself, spotted them at their "Prefect Meeting", and he laughed with delight as they tried to explain the situation. It was obvious that he had been wondering how long it would be until they announced their feelings publicly, and that it wasn't a big surprise to him since they were his two best friends. He did say, however, that Neville might be another story since he is so fond of Hermione, but the two were ready to take their chances.  Her happiness overwhelmed her as she lightly planted a small peck on Ron's cheek causing his entire body to flush, and Harry to laugh harder as he dismissed himself. Hermione was so content with the moment that she completely forgot to consider the most important wall between them; Ron's sister and her best female friend.

Ginny.

Hermione silently prayed as she stared out at the lake and took no notice of the gold leaves glided that through the breeze and landed softly on the water's surface. Ginny would understand, and what would thrill her more than an authentic romance brewing right under her nose. Especially one that had been kept secret for over a year . . .