A/N: It's been a while... and no, I'm not talking about the Staind song that they used to play every five minutes on the radio. But... yes, foreshadowing in this chapter, along with hints at other ships besides D/G. I want to thank those who have reviewed, you people rule!
Disclaimer: Several logical progressions...
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia incites wrath of Ginny Weasley. Ginny's protective!brothers at the sight of their sister in tears get all hotheaded and angry. Charlie sics dragon on Thalia. Thalia dies.
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia becomes a Mary Sue. Intelligent readers and fandom bitches armed with sporks mob and lynch her. Thalia dies.
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia gets sued by JKR and otherfolk. Thalia is forced to resort to prostitution to pay for it all. Thalia gets AIDS. Thalia dies.
But, miraculously, Thalia is still alive, kicking, smiting and referring to herself in the third person. So we can only conclude that she doesn't own Draco Malfoy. Or any of the other Potterverse characters. All right, then...
~*~
"You're lucky," Draco Malfoy, sitting almost languidly in the Prefect's office, said to the girl who was calmly flipping through her Herbology text across from him.
Pansy rolled her eyes slightly, "And what brought up THAT idea, Mr. I'm-Head-Boy-And-I-Have-Everything?"
Draco gave a slight sneer. "YOU know what."
"She's worth it to you, though, to sneak around in secrecy and all the danger." Pansy murmured in an analyzing fashion, "Otherwise you wouldn't be shagging her. It's not as if Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass don't want in your trousers. And I have it on authority of Zabini and Nott that both of them are reasonably shaggable. It's not as if your father's going to give a damn about you philandering about here and there with those two girls..."
"How about we just don't talk about either my father, or terrible Davis/Greengrass/Zabini/Nott... er... quadrilaterals? And focus on the fact that I'm wallowing in envy that YOUR parents don't give a damn about whether or not you join any... extracurricular dopey religious cults?"
Pansy gave a slight, pleased smirk. "Well. My father HAD contemplated joining, back in his day. But my mum forbade it because Bellatrix Black did, and she hated Bellatrix. Silly reasons, I suppose... but I'm quite glad."
Draco scowled slightly, "Bellatrix is pleased about MY joining. She told me that she looks forward to watching me Crucio the family of a nemesis. Like SHE did."
Here Pansy's eyes narrowed somewhat, and the expression on her face wavered... slightly. "If I were Neville, I'd scratch her eyes out. After ripping her hair out by the roots. After I set angry veela upon her. Veela are supposed to hate other women sometimes... for being human and loved."
"Ooh, catfight," Draco remarked drolly, but not with much energy. And then he paused, and slowly stared. "You just called Longbottom 'Neville'." It was a simple, almost flat statement. "You don't even call any of the blokes in OUR house by their given names, aside from me."
Pansy froze, and she buttoned her lips.
"You kept my secret, I'll keep yours," Draco muttered evenly. It was the politics of Slytherin House, "I won't laugh at your taste, and you won't laugh at mine. Although you might wish to be more careful about your word choice in the future."
She nodded slowly. "I take your meaning, Draco."
"How the deuce, though? I've never seen either of you together..."
She pointed to the Herbology text that she'd spread on the table in front of her, "Found a plot in one of the greenhouses. White poppies, my favourite flower. Started to study there... and then met him. He planted them... turned out that his mother'd carried them on her wedding day."
"And you two started talking, you got to know him, felt very foreign and terribly soppy feelings of sympathy and benevolence and care, and Longbottom turned out to be a better shag than one might give him credit for," Draco interjected.
"...Something like that," Pansy said dryly. "And if you dare do anything about it I'll kick you in the groin." The last, though, was spoken without malice.
"Far be it from me to risk ending up as a eunuch," Draco replied with a wry look at his friend, "No intention of gaining a squeaky House Elf voice. Not to mention, Gin's an absolute vixen in the..."
"Thank you, that's enough."
~*~
"You're back late," Ginny Weasley, 6th year Prefect, remarked idly as the Portrait Hole opened. Dean Thomas, whom she'd dated briefly before the two had decided that they were better off as friends, gave her a sheepish grin.
"Was having a study session with Padma," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a lean, sensitive brown hand.
"Studying what, how much noise it takes to break through a Silencing Charm?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow in a manner she'd picked up from... someone. Dean chuckled slightly.
"Pot calling the kettle black, hmm?" he asked quietly, "Come now... who is it? I know it's someone... and not from our House."
"What do you mean?" Ginny gave him a mystified look.
"Ginny Weasley, you stare across the Great Hall during meals, though I'm not sure whom at, and you smile to yourself and don't even notice it."
"I see," Ginny replied evenly. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised... of all the boys in Ron's year, Dean was certainly one of the most observant, artistic soul that he was. "That's my business, but don't worry about me."
"I won't," Dean said with a smile, "You look happy. Worried at times... but hey, supposedly overprotective big lugs of brothers make any girl who's in love worried about her boy's safety."
Ginny smiled, though her eyes were solemn. The threat of overprotective big lugs of brothers was actually the least of her worries.
"Oh, smile, Gin," Dean said coaxingly, "Whatever it is, it'll be fine, I'm sure. You should enjoy life to the fullest and all those things, you know. Live every day as if it's your last, that's what my mum always said. Don't expect that any of us will be dying any time soon, but the woman's got a point."
Ginny smiled slightly, and Dean grinned at her. "Here, I'll show you something... been working on it for a long time."
She peered curiously over as he took something out of a leatherbound portfolio, and sucked in a breath. On a sheet of parchment, the fine, thick, creamy type used for books, was the start of what would be a magnificent drawing of Padma Patil. Dean had been meticulous and painstaking, and with every careful stroke of the pencil had depicted the play of light shimmering in the Ravenclaw's hair, or the sparkle in her eyes. Padma-in-the-picture was sitting, slightly day-dreamy as she idly flipped through a book, and though Dean had finished drawing her face, he had only started on her slender upper body, or her graceful hands. Realistic... and yet somehow idealized, elevating the pretty girl to a gentle, breathtaking beauty. And Ginny realized that that was how Dean saw Padma.
"It's stunning," she whispered, "Padma'll be so flattered when it's finished."
"It's... it's not so much a present for her," Dean started, "As... something for me. Or... us. I'm hoping to finish it within another week or two."
Ginny nodded and took another look at the unfinished drawing, and Dean patted her shoulder.
"Whoever he is, you're as beautiful to him... as Padma is, to me."
Ginny gave him a small smile and a brief hug, and walked upstairs to her dormitory.
Disclaimer: Several logical progressions...
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia incites wrath of Ginny Weasley. Ginny's protective!brothers at the sight of their sister in tears get all hotheaded and angry. Charlie sics dragon on Thalia. Thalia dies.
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia becomes a Mary Sue. Intelligent readers and fandom bitches armed with sporks mob and lynch her. Thalia dies.
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia gets sued by JKR and otherfolk. Thalia is forced to resort to prostitution to pay for it all. Thalia gets AIDS. Thalia dies.
But, miraculously, Thalia is still alive, kicking, smiting and referring to herself in the third person. So we can only conclude that she doesn't own Draco Malfoy. Or any of the other Potterverse characters. All right, then...
~*~
"You're lucky," Draco Malfoy, sitting almost languidly in the Prefect's office, said to the girl who was calmly flipping through her Herbology text across from him.
Pansy rolled her eyes slightly, "And what brought up THAT idea, Mr. I'm-Head-Boy-And-I-Have-Everything?"
Draco gave a slight sneer. "YOU know what."
"She's worth it to you, though, to sneak around in secrecy and all the danger." Pansy murmured in an analyzing fashion, "Otherwise you wouldn't be shagging her. It's not as if Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass don't want in your trousers. And I have it on authority of Zabini and Nott that both of them are reasonably shaggable. It's not as if your father's going to give a damn about you philandering about here and there with those two girls..."
"How about we just don't talk about either my father, or terrible Davis/Greengrass/Zabini/Nott... er... quadrilaterals? And focus on the fact that I'm wallowing in envy that YOUR parents don't give a damn about whether or not you join any... extracurricular dopey religious cults?"
Pansy gave a slight, pleased smirk. "Well. My father HAD contemplated joining, back in his day. But my mum forbade it because Bellatrix Black did, and she hated Bellatrix. Silly reasons, I suppose... but I'm quite glad."
Draco scowled slightly, "Bellatrix is pleased about MY joining. She told me that she looks forward to watching me Crucio the family of a nemesis. Like SHE did."
Here Pansy's eyes narrowed somewhat, and the expression on her face wavered... slightly. "If I were Neville, I'd scratch her eyes out. After ripping her hair out by the roots. After I set angry veela upon her. Veela are supposed to hate other women sometimes... for being human and loved."
"Ooh, catfight," Draco remarked drolly, but not with much energy. And then he paused, and slowly stared. "You just called Longbottom 'Neville'." It was a simple, almost flat statement. "You don't even call any of the blokes in OUR house by their given names, aside from me."
Pansy froze, and she buttoned her lips.
"You kept my secret, I'll keep yours," Draco muttered evenly. It was the politics of Slytherin House, "I won't laugh at your taste, and you won't laugh at mine. Although you might wish to be more careful about your word choice in the future."
She nodded slowly. "I take your meaning, Draco."
"How the deuce, though? I've never seen either of you together..."
She pointed to the Herbology text that she'd spread on the table in front of her, "Found a plot in one of the greenhouses. White poppies, my favourite flower. Started to study there... and then met him. He planted them... turned out that his mother'd carried them on her wedding day."
"And you two started talking, you got to know him, felt very foreign and terribly soppy feelings of sympathy and benevolence and care, and Longbottom turned out to be a better shag than one might give him credit for," Draco interjected.
"...Something like that," Pansy said dryly. "And if you dare do anything about it I'll kick you in the groin." The last, though, was spoken without malice.
"Far be it from me to risk ending up as a eunuch," Draco replied with a wry look at his friend, "No intention of gaining a squeaky House Elf voice. Not to mention, Gin's an absolute vixen in the..."
"Thank you, that's enough."
~*~
"You're back late," Ginny Weasley, 6th year Prefect, remarked idly as the Portrait Hole opened. Dean Thomas, whom she'd dated briefly before the two had decided that they were better off as friends, gave her a sheepish grin.
"Was having a study session with Padma," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a lean, sensitive brown hand.
"Studying what, how much noise it takes to break through a Silencing Charm?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow in a manner she'd picked up from... someone. Dean chuckled slightly.
"Pot calling the kettle black, hmm?" he asked quietly, "Come now... who is it? I know it's someone... and not from our House."
"What do you mean?" Ginny gave him a mystified look.
"Ginny Weasley, you stare across the Great Hall during meals, though I'm not sure whom at, and you smile to yourself and don't even notice it."
"I see," Ginny replied evenly. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised... of all the boys in Ron's year, Dean was certainly one of the most observant, artistic soul that he was. "That's my business, but don't worry about me."
"I won't," Dean said with a smile, "You look happy. Worried at times... but hey, supposedly overprotective big lugs of brothers make any girl who's in love worried about her boy's safety."
Ginny smiled, though her eyes were solemn. The threat of overprotective big lugs of brothers was actually the least of her worries.
"Oh, smile, Gin," Dean said coaxingly, "Whatever it is, it'll be fine, I'm sure. You should enjoy life to the fullest and all those things, you know. Live every day as if it's your last, that's what my mum always said. Don't expect that any of us will be dying any time soon, but the woman's got a point."
Ginny smiled slightly, and Dean grinned at her. "Here, I'll show you something... been working on it for a long time."
She peered curiously over as he took something out of a leatherbound portfolio, and sucked in a breath. On a sheet of parchment, the fine, thick, creamy type used for books, was the start of what would be a magnificent drawing of Padma Patil. Dean had been meticulous and painstaking, and with every careful stroke of the pencil had depicted the play of light shimmering in the Ravenclaw's hair, or the sparkle in her eyes. Padma-in-the-picture was sitting, slightly day-dreamy as she idly flipped through a book, and though Dean had finished drawing her face, he had only started on her slender upper body, or her graceful hands. Realistic... and yet somehow idealized, elevating the pretty girl to a gentle, breathtaking beauty. And Ginny realized that that was how Dean saw Padma.
"It's stunning," she whispered, "Padma'll be so flattered when it's finished."
"It's... it's not so much a present for her," Dean started, "As... something for me. Or... us. I'm hoping to finish it within another week or two."
Ginny nodded and took another look at the unfinished drawing, and Dean patted her shoulder.
"Whoever he is, you're as beautiful to him... as Padma is, to me."
Ginny gave him a small smile and a brief hug, and walked upstairs to her dormitory.