Author's Note: This chapter is quite heavily inspired by my beloved favorite episode of I Dream Of Jeannie (which aired on my birthday...coincidence? I think not! *Twilight Zone theme plays*), though it's a bit more...racy. *nods* And well, Shakespeare's sonnet does not belong to me.
Duh.
Chapter Five: Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds of May...
It wasn't the first time that Harry Potter had failed. Oh, no. He'd flunked many a Potions exam in his time, and nearly always managed to crash and burn with the opposite sex.
And yet he'd always followed through on things that truly mattered, like sneaking into Hogsmeade and repeatedly defeating the Dark Lord with flourish. Most of those things had never even been carefully planned, either - they simply came to him in times of need.
But oh, had he failed this time.
For at that very moment, Ginny was in her bedroom preparing for her date with the incredible bouncing ferret.
It was too much for a guy to handle, really.
And so Harry was doing the only thing he possibly could do after all else had failed.
Moping.
Why Malfoy? WHY? I could handle, Seamus, Neville, Colin, Ron - a moment's consideration - Okay, not Ron. Still....ANYONE but Malfoy! (All male members of the Weasley family excluded.)
And she sounded so damn happy about it, too. He could hear her humming something and could only pray that it wasn't a sappy love ballad proclaiming her undying fiery ardor for the Ferret Boy.
Straining his ears, he listened closer.
Her clear, sweet voice immediately filled his head, belting out (quite coquettishly)...
Let's Get It On?!?!
Oh shit.
It was worse than he'd thought.
(Not to mention that it brought back not-too-pleasant memories of his attempted seduction.)
If Malfoy lays a hand on her...scratch that, a FINGER, I will diagnose him with Urpelscranailbrokeoffious and PERFORM THE ANTIDOTE!
...in both nostrils.
But no, that's not all. I'll just be getting started. I'll-
"Oh, Haaarry!"
Gulp.
"Yeah?" he called back to Ginny, struggling to sound casual.
"Could you come in here for a second? I need your help with something."
"Uh...yeah...sure."
No big deal. Nope. He worked hard to ignore the fact that she seemed to be trying to sound almost...seductive. (And was succeeding in a way that he most certainly had not.)
Whistling nonchalantly, he made his way to Ginny's door and wrapped his knuckles lightly against the faded mahogany.
"Come right in."
Harry obliged, and upon swinging open the door, found Ginny standing with her back to him.
Her bare back.
BreatheInBreatheOutBreatheInBreatheOutBreatheInBreatheOut...
A short crimson dress wrapped around her slim figure, the back still waiting to be zipped.
"This dress always gives me hell," she informed him, turning her head slightly to make eye contact. "Mind giving me a hand?"
"No-o!" He winced as his voice cracked horribly. An amused smile played around the corners of her lips. "I mean...uh...no. 'Course not."
Much better.
His heartbeat pulsated maddeningly through his head as he stepped closer to her. With shaking hands, he reached for the zipper.
This is just Ginny! he yelled inwardly. She's no Susan!
...thank God.
As the zipper made its way up, it snagged on the red satin.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized at once, his voice shaking.
"It's fine," she breathed. "This old thing always does that. You just have to...unzip it a little."
. . .
"Okay," Harry said, nervously carrying out the order as he wondered vaguely just when she'd made the transformation from sweet, quiet Ginny to a super-seductress temptress vixen.
It was a little unnerving.
...Not that he didn't like it.
Once the dress was fully zipped, she turned around and studied him intensely for a moment from under ebony lashes.
"Thanks," she breathed.
"No problem," Harry said with a forced grin that felt so idiotic he didn't even want to think about how it looked.
Ginny sunk down in front of a vanity littered with assorted cosmetics which had aided Harry in his sudden, violent (and not to mention false) attack of Urpelscranailbrokeoffious. After a moment of what appeared to be careful consideration, she snatched up a tube of lipstick.
"I just love this stuff," she informed him, voice light, airy, and possessing an aura of misleading innocence. "If there's one thing that our kind has over Muggles, it's makeup."
After that proclamation, she removed the cap from the lipstick and traced it slowly along her bottom lip. A dark scarlet fixed itself on her mouth, possessing the same crystal-clear allure of red wine. She slowly rubbed her lips together, a hint of pink tongue brushing away the extra gloss.
"What do you think?" she inquired, studying his reflection in the mirror for a moment before pressing her lips against the glass in the exact spot where a very nervous Harry studied her. He watched himself as his green eyes widened in shock.
"Gr...great," he assured her amongst nervous laughter. "Uh...so...excited?"
"Oh, yes," she responded, her own sweet laughter escaping her lips and dancing through air ridden with tension. "It's been ages since I've gone out."
"We could go out sometime."
The words were out of his mouth before his brain realized what the hell he was doing. Therefore, it hadn't come to mind that Susan would serve his head on a platter if he took out another girl.
Apple in the mouth and all.
"As...friends," he stuttered in a hasty addition.
"That'd be nice," she said with a sweet, almost shy half-smile. In that instant, super-seductress moved aside to make way for the real Ginny, who looked somehow soothingly innocent despite the sexy dress and thick makeup.
Harry decided that he liked this Ginny much better.
Alas, 'this Ginny' disappeared as quickly as she'd come.
"God, look at the time," she muttered, playing out a distressed facade while appearing perfectly calm all the while. "I have to hurry."
Humming the all-too-familiar tune of the dreaded Let's Get It On, she spritzed perfume onto her wrists and neck. Standing up, she stretched her arms lazily over her head before making her way toward him.
"I'm not too sure about this perfume," she announced promptly. "What do you think?"
And with that, she cocked her head to the side mere inches from his face, her neck dangerously close to his lips. Fingernails covered in red polish dug lightly into his arm as she faintly rested her hand there.
ThumpThumpThumpThumpThump.
This was it. The end of him. He was going to have a heart attack. His head would explode. His eyes would get so big that they'd roll out of their sockets and onto the floor.
...Or not.
Most likely, Ron would burst in at that very moment, right along with Susan, and they'd kill him in some cruel and unusual way for being attracted to Ginny.
The scent of vanilla mingling with peppermint and talcum powder immediately ensnared his senses, and he stared down at her.
Just one little kiss wouldn't piss Susan off too bad. She'd probably even speak to him again in another ten years, if she took it well.
His eyes fell shut, immersing him in darkness as he leaned, anticipating, toward her neck. His lips tingled at the surreal realization that in a few seconds they would be caressing her smooth, ivory skin...lost in a sweet sea of vanilla, peppermint, and talcum powder...
But as he leaned down lower and lower, he realized that he should have met Ginny's neck by now. He tentatively opened one eye to find that she had crossed the room and was draping a shimmery black shawl over her shoulders. Immediately he felt his cheeks flush bright red in true Ron's Ears fashion.
"Draco should be here any minute," Ginny announced with an excited smile as she slipped her feet into a pair of red heels. "Thanks for helping me get ready."
"Any time," he mumbled awkwardly. "Have a good time."
His stupidity hit him at once with the blinding light of a full-fledged Gilderoy Lockhart smile. Have a good time?!? With Malfoy?! He could only imagine his idea of a good time, complete with by-the-hour hotel rooms and wild, promiscuous sex.
He couldn't just let her out of the house dressed to kill with the Ferret of Death! Ron would never forgive him!
And it would be a considerable amount of time before he forgave himself as well.
"But not too much fun," he added, immediately feeling relieved.
Delighted laughter immediately spilled from Ginny's lips.
"Oh, Harry!" she cried with a bright smile, crossing the room with remarkable grace despite her high stilettos. "You're always going to look out for me, aren't you?"
"Um...well..."
In an action of pleasant simplicity, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "You know, you've always been just like another big brother to me!"
Harry wondered if that comment was deliberately offensive before contemplating why it was irking him in the first place.
Perhaps it was because big brothers weren't supposed to have sudden urges to make out with their younger sisters.
"Oh, look," she announced in dismay. "I've gotten red lipstick all over your cheek."
"It's...it's okay," he mumbled.
"No," she said insistently, "I'll just get that off."
His heart threatened to explode as she rose her fingers to his cheek and rested them there for a moment before brushing her thumb against his skin. He was inexplicably tempted to rest his hand upon hers, to stare into her eyes and cover her fingertips with kisses.
She was so beautiful...why hadn't he noticed it before?
Well, he was certainly noticing now.
And suddenly her hand was gone, living the logical side of his mind to chide him for being so unbearably stupid.
"There," she murmured. "Gone."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
They studied one another in silence for a moment before the unwelcome peal of the doorbell sounded.
"Oh, there he is now," Ginny said, abruptly turning and leaving the room.
And as Harry stood, very much alone and surrounded by the scent of her perfume, listening to the faint sound of her heels click against the floor, he wished for the first time in his life that he could trade places with Draco Malfoy.
~*~
It was quite easily the most triumphant moment of Ginny's life.
Her numerous viewings of assorted Marilyn Monroe films (in which The Seven Year Itch and Niagara had proved most helpful) and Breakfast at Tiffany's (which had tempted her to throw the word 'darling' into random sentences) certainly hadn't gone to waste. Marilyn's wide eyed naiveté (a la The Seven Year Itch) and brazen sexiness (courtesy of Niagara) had mingled perfectly with Holly Golightly's nonchalant glamour to produce an effect she'd only dreamt of having on Harry. Was it possible that he hadn't been aware of her dangerously extreme nervousness?
Well, it appeared that way. He'd tried to kiss her, for God's sake. Never in her wildest dreams had Ginny expected him to do such a thing.
It had sure as hell taken all of her willpower to move away, too.
But it had been worth it.
So tantalizingly close, and yet so very, very far, she thought with an amused grin.
Only once she'd reached the door did a strange realization hit her.
She was going on a date with Draco Malfoy.
The whole point of the entire evening had been to drive Harry mad with jealousy, and that had been accomplished. She'd completely forgotten that she actually had to spend time with the narcissistic bastard.
Yay.
A scowl on her face, she swung open the door to find the front stoop empty, a single red rose placed on the tattered 'Welcome' mat.
What the...?
Vaguely bewildered, she bent down and picked up the flower, tentatively caressing its ruby petals.
"Lookin' good, Weasley."
Malfoy's confident drawl filled her ears as he stepped out of a shadow and into view.
"Is that the best you can come up with?" Ginny returned quizzically, crossing her arms in front of her chest and studying him expectantly.
He rolled steel gray eyes, clearly unamused.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he asked after a moment of silence, the words flowing from his lips with silken ease. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate."
"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May," Ginny continued softly.
"And summer's lease hath all too short a date," his voice filled her ears, filled with a strange sort of subdued passion that was oddly intoxicating. "Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines..."
"And often is his gold complexion dimmed," Ginny recited. "And every fair from fair sometime declines..."
"By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed, but thy eternal summer shall not fade."
"Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade."
"When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st," he had stepped close to her now, and those pale gray eyes studied her with frightening intensity. "So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see..."
"So long lives this," Ginny finished in a whisper, ensnared in his gaze. "And this gives life to thee."
A strange, breathless sort of silence filled the night as they studied one another, trapped in an instant that caused her heart to pound and knees to weaken.
She didn't like this feeling.
It was strange, unfamiliar, and she feared it.
And so she did the only thing she possibly could.
Killed it.
"Shakespeare, huh?" she asked, breaking the gaze for a moment before looking back up at him with a smirk.
He nodded at her, an amused half smile playing at his lips.
She hated how his every move seemed deliberate and flawless, how he seemed to possess a sort of chilling grace.
"Naturally, Weasley. We Malfoys are cultured...how could you expect anything less?"
"Well, you did greet me with 'Lookin' good, Weasley'," she pointed out with a dry smile. "Not exactly fine poetry there."
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Weasley," he said haughtily, offering his arm.
She took it, then responded with a saccharine smile, "Thus the basis of its appeal."
"Clever, Weasley."
"Naturally, Malfoy," she replied, mimicking his infuriatingly self-assured tone. "We Weasleys have a gift for wit. How could you expect anything less?"
Malfoy studied her for a moment before proclaiming, "You're already starting to annoy me."
"Well," Ginny responded slyly, "We're right on target, then."
~*~
Ginny knew that the broomshed incident would have to come up sometime.
It would be embarrassing, that was for sure. Hell, it was the reason she'd blushed every time she'd passed him in the halls for all of sixth year. His graduation had been an enormous relief - now, she'd figured, I'll never have to see him again.
Pssht.
Now she was on a date with him, and in quite the romantic setting no less. The Golden Watch was a classy place - she'd only been there once before, on the night when Ron and Hermione had announced their engagement six or seven months before. It was dimly lit, with candles hovering over each table. The ceiling was bewitched in a manner similar to Hogwarts', and sparkling stars danced and mingled across an ebony sky above them. The soft, sweet sound of the piano in the corner rang softly throughout the restaurant, and a few couples danced on the shimmering mahogany floor.
And of course the broomshed incident had to ruin an otherwise semi-lovely evening, with Shakespeare and all.
She knew that he remembered it, thanks to the knowing smirk that refused to leave his face.
Yup, he would bring it up any second now.
5...4...3...2...
"Say, Weasley," he drawled, right on schedule, "Remember the time that we got detention together and ended up making out in the broomshed?"
She winced immediately, and he chuckled.
Regaining composure, she regally returned, "No, it seems to have slipped my mind."
"It was probably your first kiss, huh, Weasley?" His smirk was positively infuriating.
"No," Ginny shot back defensively.
That was, if she counted that awkward little peck on the cheek from Neville after the Yule Ball in her third year as a kiss.
Which she chose to in this time of desperation.
"You never talked to me again after that," Malfoy informed her, amused.
"You never made any attempts at conversation either, Malfoy," she snapped irritably.
"I still haven't forgiven you, you know, Weasley." A devious smile spread across his lips. "You would have been a suitable girlfriend. Instead I was stuck with that dog Pansy Parkinson."
"So," Ginny gave him a wry smile, leaning forward and studying him evenly. "You'd have rather dated me than Pansy Parkinson?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley," Malfoy ordered. "I would have rather dated Potter than Pansy Parkinson."
"Draco whatever-your-middle-name-is Malfoy," Ginny cried in teasing astonishment, "Never in a million years would I have expected that you swung that way."
"Really clever, Weasley," Malfoy deadpanned. "You continuously dazzle me with your endless witty repartee."
"I do tend to have that affect on people," she agreed, nodding.
"So, Weasley." His eyes danced laughingly in the dim candlelight. "Why didn't you talk to me?"
"Why are you dwelling on this?" she retorted in annoyance.
"Because," he replied with a twisted smirk, "I spent an unhealthy amount of galleons on mental therapy to overcome the heartbreaking blow. I've never been the same since."
"Oh, woe is you," Ginny rolled her eyes, sarcasm drenching her tone. "And if you must now," she added loftily, "You just weren't good enough for me."
"A.K.A., you were still hopelessly smitten with Potter."
. . .
Okay. He had her stumped there. He would surely see through pathetic excuses and mock her even more violently. But she couldn't just tell him, Goddammit! She would rather tell Harry himself! At least he wasn't pure and unadulterated evil personified.
An awkward silence passed, and she felt her cheeks flush crimson.
And then the inconceivable happened.
"Hey," Malfoy said, almost gently, "You can't control who you're smitten with. Life would be a bore if you could."
Ginny flashed him a grateful smile, resisting the urge to jump over the table and hug him.
"You know," she stated, "Under the many, many layers of sinister heartlessness, you can be pretty deep."
He gave her a wry half-smile.
"Like a kiddy pool, Weasley."
~*~
He wasn't really sure why he'd asked her out in the first place.
Hell, he didn't even know why he'd gone to Honeydukes. If he were the sentimental sort, he could've blamed it on an uncontrollable urge to reminisce about his good ol' Hogwarts days when they'd visited Hogsmeade on weekends.
But he wasn't the sentimental sort, nor had his Hogwarts days been something worthy of reminiscing about.
Well, either way, he was glad he'd asked her out. She looked hot, and it was a nice change from the usual brainless blondes he dated.
After they'd finished eating, he had half a mind to somehow prolong the date - maybe ask her to dance or walk around Hogsmeade a little.
But he almost immediately decided against it.
After all, Draco really couldn't afford to fall for Ginny Weasley.
~*~
"So, the night has come to an end," Malfoy announced dramatically as they approached her doorstep.
"The pain," Ginny deadpanned. "I'll cry myself to sleep tonight."
Out of the corner of her eye, she snuck a glance in the front window. Harry sat on the couch, staring anxiously at the clock.
Perfect.
"So, Weasley," Malfoy flashed her a smug grin. "Do I get a kiss goodnight?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh-so-sorry, but I do not want to relive any of the good ol' broomshed days anytime soon."
She snuck another glance at Harry.
Look over here, she ordered silently. Look over here...
"You know," Malfoy was saying, "You really are torturing yourself here, Weasley. Depriving yourself of sheer bliss, causing yourself-"
Bingo.
Harry's eyes flew over, and without hesitating she slammed her mouth against Malfoy's. She kissed him passionately, fervently, giving Harry the full-out 'Are You Jealous Yet?' performance.
After a few moments, she pulled away. A smirk immediately fixed itself on Malfoy's lips.
"Indecisive, aren't we, Weasley?"
Fixing a saccharine smile on her face in hopes that Harry would think her to be professing her undying love, she uttered two legendary words.
"Fuck you."
And with that, she fixed a giddily infatuated smile on her face and pranced inside.
~*~
He couldn't believe she'd kissed Malfoy on a first date.
And it wasn't a teensy little polite kiss, either, which was definitely the kind of kiss that he'd expect from her.
No sirree, it had been a full-out passionate 'I want you, I need you' kiss, complete with tongue and all.
Harry couldn't help but want to hurt Malfoy in an extremely cruel and unusual way.
Yes, the antidote to Urpelscranailbrokeoffious was really sounding good right now.
He immediately squeezed his eyes shut and feigned sleep, attempting to even out his breathing. It really wasn't easy to appear as though you've been completely relaxed for hours when all you want in the entire world is to murder a certain Draco Malfoy who would remain nameless.
A long, dreamy sigh immediately filled the air, and without any warning, something collapsed onto Harry.
His eyes flew open at once as he let out a shocked yell.
Ginny had fallen across his lap, a smitten smile on her face.
"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry!" she apologized at once, scooting over to the vacant spot on the couch. He could practically see the little hearts in her eyes. "I had no idea you'd still be up!" She paused for a moment before giving him a big smile. "Were you waiting up for me?"
"No, no, of course not," Harry said at once. "I was just...reading, and I fell asleep."
He snatched up a book from the coffee table and held it up as evidence.
Ginny studied the title, looking both amused and disturbed.
"Fifty Easy Ways To Hook Your Man?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Oh, great.
"Sure," Harry said weakly. "It's very...interesting."
He noticed blandly that he'd been constantly humiliated ever since Ginny had moved in with him.
Coincidence?
He thought not.
"Hmm," Ginny said distractedly before a giddy smile blossomed upon her face. "Oh, I had the most amazing time!"
"Really?" Harry asked weakly.
Must...kill...Malfoy...
Ginny nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. Draco is so romantic."
"Romantic?" Harry repeated in disbelief. "Draco? As in, Draco Malfoy Draco?"
The dreamy smile was back, and Harry really didn't like it.
"He was reciting poetry to me," she breathed. "Shakespeare."
Harry suddenly wondered why he hadn't bothered to learn Shakespeare.
"And he brought me a rose," Ginny continued. "And we had dinner by candlelight...he ordered red wine..."
MUST...KILL...MALFOY...KILL...KILL...KILL....
"So you really like him, huh?" Harry asked miserably.
Ginny nodded again, sighing. "Oh, it's more than 'like', Harry."
She stood up and sighed yet again.
The sighing was getting old.
"I think that I'm in love with him!" she announced brightly before leaving the living room and disappearing into the kitchen.
By nature, Harry Potter didn't think himself to be a very violent person. Sure, he'd been in many a violent situation, but none of them had been welcome, right down to when he'd thrown the 'Potter Stinks' badge at Ron's forehead in fourth year.
But now, he found himself overcome with an inexplicable longing to pull off Malfoy's fingernails and force him to eat them, one by one.
Perhaps, Harry concluded, he was a tiny bit jealous.
A/N 2: Am I the only one falling for Draco here??