A/N: *sigh* how sad is this. I dreamt about this story last night. I guess I have the right to get passionate about it though =). Thank you to my two amazing reviewers! You made my life!! hehe I love you Ilana!

I know it seems vague right now, but I promise, I have some wicked ideas for this story … and the promised Ginny/Draco action will be coming into play very soon.

Disclaimer: ha, that's a joke. All of the amazing setting and characters belong to my hero and god, J.K. Rowling. I am but a humble amateur … only the plot and Professor Limbaugh are mine.

Chapter 2: Harsh Realities

A slim, flame haired siren materialized from the shadows by the entrance to platform 9 ¾. Her carmine locks fell in soft curls to her waist, and her porcelain skin glowed in the dim light. Her face was dusted innocently with freckles, but her deep amber and chocolate flecked eyes spoke of a maturity improportionate to her age. A delicate pair of auburn brows arched gracefully over long, thick lashes.

Her eyes followed a bustling, red-haired family that the watcher disdainfully recognized as the pure-blooded, yet dirt poor, Weasley family. She kept her distance, and stalked through the pillar a full ten minutes behind the raucous brood.

His eyes followed her, inspecting the soft curves accented in her gothic blue lace top and black miniskirt. He watched her, watched her carry herself through the station with head held high, dignified and unafraid.

He watched, and wondered who this fiery angel could possibly be.

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Ginny fumed in the corner of the platform, eyeing her family and stubbornly waiting for them to leave before she walked into the pillar and onto the train. Ron had been an insufferable git all summer; and boarding the train with him would mean sitting with the Dream Team. She absolutely would not. Her patience for Harry and Hermione had run out long ago, and yet she had to plaster a fake smile on her face and follow them like a puppy dog. Ron seemed to feel this was only appropriate, after all, he had to protect his little sister right? Her "friends" were his friends. His problems, her problems. Anything that happened in her life he knew about. She was sick of being Ron's shadow – sick of having no real friends and being robbed of her own identity.

She walked through the station holding her head high and her shoulders straight, mustering all of her pride. She stared defiantly outward, determined to prove to the world that she had the strength to tackle the task before her. After dumping her bags, she sadly savoured the few flattering looks thrown at her as she walked down the boarding platform, knowing full well that in a matter of days the only looks she would be getting would be off the ends of her classmates' noses. Who would want to associate themselves with a working girl? Her family's poverty was already well-known and well-teased, this would be the icing on the cake for people like Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy … Pansy Parkinson. Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust and thrust the train doors open.

Upon finding an empty cabin, she flopped down onto the seat, exhausted. Worried. Grateful for not having to put up with the Golden Trio, and yet heartbroken because she didn't have anyone else to go to.

Well, at least that means you won't have any friends to lose when everyone finds out you're working for a living in sixth year.

Somehow she didn't believe herself.

Ginny curled herself into a ball on the long, plush-olive seat and let a tear trickle down her cheek. She really was on her own. Pushed into the world prematurely – she could feel the oppressing burden of responsibility weighing down on her already. Her money (or lack thereof), her life, her decisions, her future – all were hers now. Not her parents, not her family's – hers. She felt entirely overwhelmed.

Another salty tear found its way down her face as she allowed her eyes to flutter close.

About an hour later, Ginny woke to a terrified Hufflepuff second year gingerly tapping her shoulder.

"Uhh … umm …" they boy stuttered. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want t … t … to wake you!" He blushed a deep crimson as he met Ginny's eyes, shuffling his feet. "Uhh … uhhh … Dumbledore called for you … he … umm … asks you meet him in the faculty cabin right away."

Ginny sat up and yawned. She smiled gently and thanked the boy, whose eyes and finally ventured back to hers. The poor kid looked as if he would faint, and with a weak grin and bright red cheeks, fled the room.

Ginny chuckled and tossed her hair, running a hand through the rumpled curls. Selecting a dark, modest robe from her carrying case, she threw it on and stepped out into the hall, not bothering to tie it up. She faced the direction of the faculty car. Somehow, she had the distinct impression that her future awaited on the other side of the faculty door … and everything inside her wanted to run the other way. So instead, she took a deep breath and forced herself to run for the door, knowing there was no way she'd make it if she stopped to think about it.

Dumbledore, always a step ahead, anticipated her entrance and opened the door as she skidded to a halt in front of the staff cabins. She smiled, flush from her impromptu sprint, and settled herself nervously on the bench across from her Headmaster.

"Chocolate Frog?" he asked congenially.

Ginny shook her head, her stomach doing flip-flops. Chocolate probably wouldn't be smart right now.

She watched in amusement as he struggled with the fidgety creature and slowly took it apart with his teeth. A most strange thing to watch your headmaster do.

Finally he rubbed his hands and faced her with a twinkle in his eye. "So, Miss Weasley."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

"I'm sure you know, but I have accepted your parents generous proposal of your services to the Hogwarts hospital wing in return for the last two years of your magical education." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Ginny sighed and dropped her head, despondent. "That's right, Professor."

His damned eyes were twinkling again. "Why so put out, Miss Weasley? I thought you enjoyed the healing arts? Professor Limbaugh hasn't stopped singing your praises for three years."

"Oh no, it's not that Professor … I love medicine, it's what I want to do with my life. It's just … I wasn't exactly expecting to make decisions about my life for a few years yet."

Dumbledore nodded wisely. "A bit sudden, eh?"

"Yea."

"Well, if anyone at Hogwarts is more capable of handling the responsibility, I'd be hard-pressed to name them, Miss Weasley."

Ginny blushed at the compliment – such words were rare from Dumbledore.

"You are very intelligent, highly talented, and quite stubborn." His eyes were twinkling like mad now. "A perfect combination for a young lady who has a head start on society and is becoming her own, independent person.

Ginny had never looked at it that way. Rather appealing, actually.

"Young for such responsibility – yes. But incapable? No. Most certainly not."

Ginny smiled at the old man gratefully, feeling empowered by his words.

"Thank you Professor. I'll do my best, sir."

"I'm sure you will, Virginia. And who knows, something wonderfully unexpected might come from this. Never overlook opportunities, Miss Weasley." His eyes were going full tilt now.

"Alright. I'm sure you'd like to know exactly how you're going to manage all this, hmm?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, as you have already accumulated enough credits in your healing arts courses, you have an open period this year anyway. That hour will be dedicated to your new job, as well as your evenings from class dismissal until supper. You will also be on call throughout the day, if Madame Pomfrey ever needs help. This," He tossed her a small, engraved disc. "will light up and burn in your pocket when she needs you. It also acts as a carte-blanche to get out of your classes. I trust you will not abuse the privilege." He gave her a solemn look.

"In addition, you will work Saturday mornings from 9o'clock till noon, and Sundays all day." He smiled. "Poppy is, to say the least, delighted to have an assistant. She remembers you fondly from your labs last year, and looks forward to working with you." He paused and chuckled thoughtfully. "She also, no doubt, looks forward to her new day off – Sundays, that is." Twinkling eyes looked into hers, searching for a reaction.

Ginny took a deep breath, a little agape at the amount of work she was faced with. When would she ever manage schoolwork? Gritting her teeth, she smiled back at the wizened old Professor and said she was certainly looking forward to working with Madame Pomfrey as well, and that she would not miss a shift.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Weasley, we are well aware you are a sixteen year old girl with interests outside of 'working' and school. We will give you plenty of elbowroom – after all, you are only sixteen once." His eyes twinkled again, but this time in a way she rather liked.

Ginny walked out of the meeting and down the hall, nearly colliding with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. She scowled unpleasantly, glaring at Harry who was seemingly hypnotized by the shirt beneath her open robes. She made a slight clucking sound and beckoned him up with a finger.

"I'm up here, Harry."

Harry Potter blushed bright red and began inspecting his thumbnail. Ginny smirked, loving that she could still affect him after how he had treated her. Bastard, she thought, smiling in triumph.

Ron glowered at her. "Ginny Weasley, where have you been?! You know you're not supposed to sit alone! Here I was thinking we had gone and left without you, after that horrible display you put on at the train station."

Ginny stared. Did he have any idea how much he sounded like their father?

"Oh sod off Ron. You really need to get a life if the best entertainment you get is controlling mine." She turned on her heel and left a very moody Golden Trio behind her.

Oh, who cares. You've put up with their crap for long enough. You've never been submissive and meek – don't start now. Don't let them push you into a corner.

She strode down the aisle until she suddenly smashed into something rather tall …

A voice above her groaned and barked, "Jesus fucking Christ, watch where you're go …"

Ginny snapped her head up and glared at a bewildered looking Draco Malfoy through her now thoroughly disheveled hair.

"You watch where you're going, you pompous ferret!" she spat.

Draco gawked at her, dazzled and confused.

"Got a problem, ferret-boy?"

Malfoy stared. The angel from the platform, he thought.

"What, cat got your tongue?" She smirked and stood up, smoothing her skirt and giving Malfoy a patronizing glare.

"You … Who are you?" Draco cursed inwardly. Where the hell was his Malfoy charm when he needed it?

"Very funny, Malfoy. Like you haven't been making fun of my family and red hair for years."

The realization hit Malfoy like a brick wall.

Fuck!

"Weasley?!"

She smirked. "The one and only."

Damn, a smirk? Hell, he hadn't thought it possible for so much change to occur over one summer … and such good change, at that. He mentally slapped himself. This was Weasley. Virginia Weasley. He recovered quickly.

"Sorry, weasel, I was temporarily blinded by your hair. Now that I can see your ugly face, I'll be sure not to forget."

"Nice try, Malfoy. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public."

Ginny scoffed at him and turned to go, but as she did she noticed an almost imperceptible grimace pass over Malfoy's face … as if he were in excruciating pain for half a second. His face evened out quickly – but of course – so that he could shout after her through the crowded hallway,

"Couldn't help but notice you've set aside this special time to let the whole world now about your new whoring job on Temptation Alley!"

Ginny turned around and licked her lips suggestively before flipping him off. She sneered as she spun around and stalked away.

Jesus, thought Malfoy. Fiery angel, indeed. Classic Weasley, hotheaded and temperamental … yet it's so delicious on her. And that smirk … This time he really did slap himself.