Windows

nicagirl

A/N: Alright, so a few of you have been very nice to comment on the fact that they kissed way too early in the fic for it to be—er—um—natural . . .  yes, I thought so as well, but it has to work into the fic and I honestly don't feel like boring you all with another chapter filled with completely useless information. I need to work on my plot line and fill in the holes, and so if you have any questions and comments I suggest you review.

Other than that, I am deeply very sorry for making Ginny oh so very depressing but her character and personality depend on what I have planned for her—no I don't plan on her going to Draco as her best friend at first.

Disclaimer: now I have to remind you I am NOT J.K. Rowling for those of you who are wondering . . . and all of you lawyers out there . . . YES, I PAID MY BROTHER BACK, ALTHOUGH NOW HE IS ASKING FOR INTEREST. I think he is too smart for his own good—his arse is going to earn a nice bruise if he keeps asking for an interest rate raise. ( ^_^ )

Anyways, on to another chapter of this dreadful ficcie.

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Windows

Chapter Two:

(Surprises come in all shapes and sizes . . . erm, yeah . . . duh . . . hi . . . ^_^ . . . )

          It was a nice day after all the double Potions he had. Ron sat across the table sitting from his best friend—best female friend (and perhaps even more than that as Ginny had always assumed)—he reminded himself, and next to Harry.

          Dinner at Hogwarts was just as it usually went—uproar from the Slytherin table anytime Neville decided to spill his goblet of pumpkin juice all over his pants; glares from the Gryffindors; eyes rolling in unison from the Ravenclaws; and confused glances and shrugs from the Hufflepuffs. The professors at the head of the hall would also take into house rivalry from time to time, smirking at each other whenever the usual mishaps erupted into obviousness and embarrassment filled the Great Hall.

          The usual of course could only last for so long; Ginny and Draco were absent from the formality of the night, and one could only guess what either of them were up to. It only took one slam of the door to figure that whatever they were doing didn't have the other to do with.

          Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table; everyone else quiet, surprised and curious at what he had stood for, and then all eyes turned to face the figure at the other end of the hall.

          Harry could only make out a hooded silhouette unclasping its cloak off and revealing Cornelius Fudge himself, the Minister of the Ministry of Magic.

          A nod and murmur from Dumbledore to McGonagall was exchanged and moments later she had come back with a three-legged stool and a hat—a very, very old hat from what Ron could see, and soon Hermione had voiced everyone's thoughts:

          "Why does Professor McGonagall have the Sorting Hat for? I don't suppose it's because we have—"

          At that moment, what was unnoticed soon was clarified and vindicated; five shy figures emerged from the shadows behind Fudge.

          Though why Fudge was present at the Sorting of five new students placed a quizzical look on Hermione's features.

          Of course the hall was soon lifted in high spirits of curiosity and delight; new students, new rebels, rivals, friends, etc, it was all part of what Ron liked to call "The Power of Wombles."

          "Wombles? Ron, what in Merlin's beard are Wombles?" asked Harry, laughing in spite of himself.

          Though Hermione, being the walking dictionary she is, answered the question before Ron had time to comprehend Harry's question. "Wombles, Harry are what we like to call new students. Wombles comes from the words, weird, odd, mumbles—sometimes confused with muggles. This word of course will not be found in the Britannica Encyclopedia or a dictionary but perhaps even in Modern Wizards' Slang." She finished matter-of-factly.

          "'Mione, he didn't need to know all that, you know. You could have left it simple—just bragging and all doesn't exactly make you erm—eh—yeah—um, pass the peas?" Ron said this last bit in severe blatancy of changing the subject.

          "Makes me what, exactly?" asked Hermione in a demanding voice.

          "Er, well—um—attractive, is all." He mumbled behind his napkin.

          "What was that? I'm sorry, couldn't hear through all the mumbling." Harry said teasingly.

          But Ron's reply wasn't repeated; Dumbledore began to tap a fork against his goblet lightly in hopes of interrupting all the murmurs.

          "Students, quiet down now please. I have an announcement to make." The Headmaster said in his soft yet strong voice—his eyes twinkling. "As you may recall mine telling you we will be housing a number of transfers for the school year. Apparently, they're a bit early—for safety precautions, of what Cornelius was kind enough to inform me. Please welcome these five new students you would your own long, lost relatives." He gave a chuckle and nodded in the direction of Gryffindor's head of House. "Minerva, if you will."

          "Alright, on with the Sorting . . . Albert, Emmy."

          A tall, thin, blonde-haired girl with light blue eyes stepped forward. From what Harry could tell, she was probably in her seventh year. McGonagall instructed her to sit on the stool and the old, battered and patched hat was placed on her head, it all looked too familiar to those who had watched the Sorting, only the hat's rim didn't fall down over her head, and instead fit perfectly. After a few moments the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

          Hermione could've choked on her pumpkin juice; Ron had jumped up with many others—and so doing knocked over an empty goblet which surprised her in mid-swallow—and whooped. Harry had to force him to sit back down. Ron was already taken with Emmy's appearance.

          Stupid git. Thought Hermione. Emmy came and sat down next to Seamus Finnigan and Parvati Patil.

          Harry could see the twinge of jealousy in Hermione's unmasked face and could only imagine the rampage to follow. This was entertainment . . . if he could call it that. It seemed life for him, lately, had been a sitcom; problem every morning, solution every afternoon. The pattern was becoming awfully annoying.

          McGonagall quieted the applause with a simple wave of her hand and followed the list, "Muhammad, Sethos." she said this with uncertainty—the name was Arabic. And sure enough, a dark, tall, and no doubt handsome young man with masculine features stalked to the stool—also in his seventh year—and placed the hat on his head himself. McGonagall, too surprised with his looks and grace let the taking of the hat slide, and so, a minute later, the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN."

          Sethos smirked from his place on the stool, got up and stalked towards the applauding table. If he were there, Draco would've been proud of his new house-mate's smirk, but Blaise automatically sneered at him—knowing very well that Draco would've done the same out of pure competition.

          Pansy Parkinson, though, had been complaining about how Draco never told her anything, was suddenly taken aback as the dark boy sat next to her. M-Merlin! He's HOT!!!

          All thoughts of Draco were washed out of her mind.

          The third person was called to the stool, "Rivera, Ebony." A very, almost giant-looking, tall girl with short, brown, curly hair trudged to the stool, a look of appall on her tan face—making her look a year older, although she was only in her sixth year. Just as the hat was placed on her head, it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

          The Ravenclaws also placed a look of appall on their faces as they cheered and applauded with much enthusiasm. Now, if only the Hufflepuffs could get a Womble . . .

          As Ebony sat with her house, McGonagall began to finish the Sorting ritual. "Smith, Jacob."

          A scrawny boy jumped at the mention of his name, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes as he all but ran to the stool. The Sorting hat fell over his head, and amazingly, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

          Shock surrendered from the Gryffindor table but was soon filled with equal ovation. This time Harry stood up, to show the new comer some support. Sort of reminds me of myself. He remembered how he had been mortified of the whole idea of being a wizard in the beginning, and then to be even offered a chance in Slytherin . . .

          Harry shivered and sat back down, throwing Jacob, a fifth year, a reassuring smile.

          "Valley, Celeste." A girl revealed herself from her hood and stalked to the stool; her long, straight black hair and light violet eyes could have had anyone guess her an immediate Slytherin. But a sort of condoned confidence had the hat shout, "GRYFFINDOR!"

          Again, an uproar of cheers, hoots, and clapping ensued from the once again surprised Gryffindors, and even Hermione had to admit that even she had judged Celeste by her looks.

          "See Emmy? I knew you'd end up with me." Celeste said from across the table to her friend. Apparently, they knew each other from wherever it was they had come from. They'd probably met on the way to Hogwarts, anyways.

          Dumbledore had risen from his chair once more and silence occupied the Hall. "Congratulations to all; I would like to mention a few things—your necessities will be appointed by tomorrow. And a few words to the dense from the wise: the third floor is forbidden, as is the Forbidden Forest. One would think I wouldn't have to mention the forest, does the name not speak for itself?—I would think really. Other ways, enjoy the feast—Cornelius, won't you join us?"

          "Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I would be awaiting for tomorrow to leave. I have some business to attend to in the morning as usual, erm, by your leave sir, I can't stay too long." Fudge said in a rushed voice, he was by all means exhausted.

          Dumbledore conjured a chair for Fudge next to him at the head table and Fudge was soon there, conversing with Professor Sinistra about the upcoming lunar eclipse, all the while taking in some food the house elves had made appear as soon as he had touched his pumpkin juice.

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          "Oh . . . my . . . God . . ." was the only thing Ginny could utter as she stepped through the threshold of the "music room" as she had taken to call it. This was not the chamber she had remembered using yesterday, or the past six years for that matter.

          Usually there was only a solitary suit of armor on the wall; she would mutter a password to the face and climb into a temporary curtain as the suit of armor stepped forward.

To any onlookers, it would look as if she had stepped into a solid wall of bricks, but in reality, the solid wall was a liquid barrier—the only thing hiding it was the suit of armor and the simple optical illusion.

Ordinarily, a large hall was on the other side of the curtain. Racks of music covered the walls, a piano in one quarter and a guitar accommodation complete with comfy chair and fireplace. Only one room; but not anymore—now there was an entrance hall, a small water-fountain bubbling in the middle.

A sculpture of a man and woman riding a dragon would slowly erode away as the water effervesced by. But there was something . . . strange about the water. It wasn't clear—it wasn't water! It was a silver and gold glittery dust that looked, felt, and sounded like water. Unusual, no . . . odd . . . strange . . . out of the ordinary . . . mental note: study thesaurus. Thought Ginny.

She looked up at the ceiling and all around the hall. It was all white and circular, columns between each door, arching up and over to the ceiling, where moldings of angelic-like creatures crept over and across the dome, a red gemstone shaped as a star majestically spread across the room, shedding a reddish glow that reflected in the bubbling water—er, glitter . . .  fountain.

          There were seven doors to choose from in the chamber. Where had her piano gone? Surely Dumbledore hadn't moved the location of the music room? She needed her piano, and soon . . . she was in the best mood to play Moonlight Sonata. But, what if Dumbledore decided to remove the music room altogether?       

          No, he would've told me first, or at least gotten my consent. She shook her head, and began to look around the chamber for the smallest of anything relative to music.

          And then she heard it, a soft singing first, but sure enough, a guitar was to accompany it.

          " . . . Well I threw you the obvious, just to see if there's more behind the eyes of a fallen angel, eyes of a tragedy. "(This is A Perfect Circle's 3 Libras song. Download it or something . . . and imagine Draco's voice. Hehe ^_^)

          It was a male's voice; certainly she hadn't found her partner in music at Hogwarts?

          Ginny made her way to the third door, where the guitar and singing was coming from. She opened it, only to peek through of course, but soon her breath was caught in her throat. She couldn't even begin to digest the scene before her.

          Of all the people to play guitar in the school, it had to be him.

          The boy who stole my sanity!!!

          "Here I am expecting just a little bit too much from the wounded."

          Malfoy—Draco was sitting on a chair, with a guitar and guitar pick in hand. He was leaning over the strings, playing the chords and picking at the notes, left hand gliding over the frets, sometimes making a squeaking sound. The noises created an entrancing song; and with Draco's voice . . . it just cast a spell over Ginny; her eyes widened and she dropped her hatred in an instant. He was so beautiful, with his stormy grey eyes so concentrated on his music and his pale hair falling in wisps in front of them.

          "But I see, see through it all, see through—see you . . . "

          At that moment, Ginny's music dropped to the floor, and she was thrown out of her reverie; as had Draco.

          "What the fu—?" he began.

          "No, please, your song—don't stop . . . it's just too beautiful—please finish your song." Pleaded Ginny. What was she thinking? Of course he would hex her on the spot, but she didn't care—at least if he considered sharing his talent with her, perhaps—

          "Why?" Draco's guitar was now leaning on the wall, and he had pocketed his guitar pick. "What are you doing here, Weasley, anyways?"

          "I just happen to be the other student permitted here, Malferret." Clearly, Malfoy doesn't want to think . . .  

          "Naw, that can't be true—"

          "Oh, but it is . . . and I have a piano, and music to prove it."

          "You've a piano? I thought you were too poor to even afford music." Draco smirked, his annoying 'I am proving you wrong, hahaha' smirk at that.

          "Why, you—you—you blast-ended skrewt—you!" Ginny retorted, furious he could even bring up another one of his stupid remarks concerning her family's economic standards.

          "Me? A blast-ended skrewt? I think you've got yourself mixed up, Weasley. This isn't your reflection you're talking to—although, I couldn't blame you for wanting it to be." And that stupid smirk was plastered on his face once more.

          "Argh, you are so asking for it, Malfoy. I wouldn't want to be you if—if—I could have chosen to be!" she finished lamely. He snorted and shook his head, somewhat amused at her remark.

          Ginny couldn't stand him for another second, and she was soon lunging at him, but due to his lightning quick reflexes he caught her fist in his hand, and had twisted her arm. And Ginny, catching on with this 'game' twisted his back.

          "Ouch!" He let go in surprise, rubbing his arm. "I mean, er—you—you, ah—you got any idea why there're all these extra rooms? I mean, if you really do play here . . . "

          "What's the matter Malfoy?" Ginny began, putting on a leery smirk that even Malfoy could have been proud of—if she weren't a Weasley. "You've just gotten hurt by a Weasley. The youngest Weasley if you please—and a girl at that!"

          "Come off it." He sneered, a pale blush of fury brushed cheeks. He drew his wand and whispered, "Oblivious!" He had just removed her memory of the previous incident.

          Ginny went into a state of confusion as she had just remembered what she had just said to Malfoy, and for no apparent reason—she hadn't beat him at anything.

Malfoy smirked at her, and Ginny blushed, wondering why she said that and decided to answer his question.

          "O—of course I play here! Why on Earth would I be wandering at the butt of a suit of armor . . . —don't answer that!" she added at his eyebrows wriggling suggestively. "I am really lost. Am I in the right place; I'm wondering why the hell all of these rooms are here. How'd you find this one?"

          "I opened the door closest to me, and found it empty—I wasn't really going to play anything on music anyways. Just trying out a song I heard. Maybe you should look for the one with piano music, and oh yeah . . . a piano. It may help." He said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which made Ginny blush furiously, considering how it was the most obvious thing in the world.

          "So did you manage to find one with a piano, eh?" she asked, avoiding his gaze.

          "No—got to this door and just . . . well yeah, this." He waved his hand vaguely towards the leaning guitar. 

          An empty silence filled the air; the tension so thick, one would think a knife would be enough to cut through it.

          And Ginny suddenly had a thought come to her, "Why'd you kiss me?" she whispered.

          "Why'd I wha—what?" asked Draco confused.

          "Why'd you kiss me?" she said more strongly, apparent aggravation in her voice.

          "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Weaslette. I think you've forgotten the difference between dreams and reality." He said, averting his eyes from her stare.

          "Fine, if you're going to pretend it never happened, then so am I." she answered. Draco Malfoy: I have to give him the 'Prat of All Time Award.'

          Why in Merlin's name did I tell her that? Thought Draco as he stepped backward into the room, suddenly aware that his guitar still wasn't in its proper place.

          The door closed and Draco looked back; Ginny was inside the room with him. Stupid girl. She won't leave me alone.

          But Draco couldn't help the feeling of warmth he felt at the fact that she had decided to stay with him. Damn it. Wrong feeling. Hate—yes . . . Lucius!

          A low growl was produced in Draco's throat as he thought of his father, or as he liked to call him, Lucius.

* Flashback *

          "Get up boy! No weakling deserves to be called my son. He doth not deserve to bear thy Malfoy name!"

          Lucius cracked the whip against Draco's back; a surge of pain would've been sure to develop through his nervous system, but he was somewhat immune to pain now.

          "Lucius! No, not my son!" cried Narcissa from the top of the stairs.

          "Stupid girl, get away from here!" he waved his wand in front of Narcissa's terrified face.

          "I said, no. Get away from my son." She had only just managed to get a tremor out of her voice.

          "Mother leave—Lucius and I have some business to discuss." Draco absentmindedly wiped away a trickle of blood from his bare chest. He was tied to the dungeon floors by chains.

          "Lucius!" cried Narcissa before she was stupefied and soon she lay at the foot of a set of stairs.

* End Flashback *

         

          "Draco? Are you okay?" Ginny saw the seething boy look up at her with pure hatred.

          "Leave." He said, and Ginny could make out the pain in his voice.

          "What's wrong?" she asked again.

          He put up his guitar in its case and proceeded to leave himself. He side-stepped through the door, striding over the dropped music, and slammed the door to the chamber.

          "Sorry." Ginny whispered to no one in particular. She looked down at the strewn about music and began to pick it up. She took one last glance at Draco's guitar room, and curiosity began to fill her to the teeth.

          Did I just call him Draco???

          Did she just call me Draco??? What happened to Malfoy, King of all Evil???

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A/N: Hello all of you people out there . . . Yeah, sorry for making this chappie just a little TOO short for your liking—at least it is TOO short for mine—anyways, thank you for your praises . . . um, jmagiq isn't going to contribute to the story like we'd planned—she'll just be my first hand beta reader then.

Oh, and I'll say hello to the G.H.O.B.A.B. Sisterhood . . . love ya! And to the Fountains of Wayne—gotta love Stacey's Mommy! Lol, and Mr. Matta needs to get a life . . . ^_^ oopsies!!!

And now, for a proper good-bye;

Cheers!

Nicagirl, or Adriana