A/N: I know; I'm a horrible person. 18 whole days. Did you survive? *cheeky grin*

I feel very invigorated. I really will try to update more frequently now; this story has become a pet passion of mine.

Much much much much MUCH thanks to all of my incredible, amazing, splendiferous, marvelous, phenomenal reviewers. It's all because of you! Each and every one of are so, so awesome. Thank you so much for believing in me and my story. Your reviews are priceless; it's so edifying to know I'm loved. *sigh* And I'd like to thank the academy …

lol, I won't go all mushy, but I really do love you all. It's just that… I've been getting complaints my shoutouts are far too long *sheepish grin* I can't help it! But I do need to tone it down, so I'm just gonna list y'all from now on and answer specific questions … but it doesn't mean I value you any less! You're soooooooooooooooooo amazing! The lifeblood of this story!

Americasweetie Nichole Malfoy

GEmory infernodweller

Angel Black1 Off White

Penny Shirley La Insane Freak

Big Red-2006 Charmed-Goddess-07

sabacat Jane Riddle

tay TarynMalfoy88

Babs5

*Special thanks to my florida homies, Laura and Ilana!

Ok. Moving on. I'm holding a poll: I really think it's too cliché for Ginny to be Draco's cure, ya know? "Find true love's first kiss" and all that crap … but a lot of people seem to think that's where this is headed. Just for curiosity's sake (no promises!) email me or put in your review whether you think that's a good idea or not. If not, I shall continue and just have our Potions genius, Miss Weasley, devise her own, resourceful cure for Drakie dear.

I'm almost done, I promise! *Disclaimer* Everything is J.K. Rowlings'. You seriously thought it was mine? I have no money. I don't even own my teeth. My parents own my teeth.

Anyway, without further ado, I give to you:

Chapter 7: Softened

Tap, tap tap …

Ginny forced one eye open and saw a large black blur at her window. Grudgingly, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and let the bird in, absently clutching the note in its beak and fumbling for a treat. It flew away in a huff and Ginny flopped back onto her bed, rubbing her eyes. She glanced at Parvati's clock on the other side of the room – 8'clock.

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath and bolted upright. She had slept through dinner! Moaning, she shuffled through the papers in the note Professor Limbaugh's raven had just dropped off and slipped them into a folder marked "Malfoy" which was then shoved into her bag and hefted onto her shoulder. Good God. Ginny groaned under the weight and stumbled out of the room, hoping to grab something to eat in the common room before heading to the library to get some work done.

The library was the only peaceful place in her world these days. It was the only place she could be free of the rude stares, the jeering and relentless mockery of her peers. It wasn't that it bothered her so much anymore; it just grated on her nerves. And she had so much work – Ginny rolled her eyes as she shuffled down the corridor, trying not to let her brain focus on the mega-list of homework, essays, projects, and then medical research she had to get done tonight.

It was a Wednesday night. The floorboards creaked eerily as she made her way down the hall. As she passed the Hufflepuff tower, she could hear cheery music and the sound of laughter ringing through the cavernous space above her.

Goddamn.

Ginny shook her head and tried to concentrate on what she had to do rather than what she was missing.

A few minutes later, she was sitting at a long table towards the back of the library, mountains of parchment and reference material in front of her and an old apple she had scavenged from the depths of her bag in her hands. She let the taste of stale fruit dissolve into her tongue as she considered a nearby cobweb thoughtfully. What do you say? 3, 4 hours maybe and then we can go to bed?

At least.

She really hadn't been to bed before 1 am all week. It was sort of tiring.

Ginny took another bite from the spoiled apple and mulled through a nearby pile, willing the homework to do itself. She looked longingly at the folder in her bag – all she really wanted to do was push all this other junk off the desk and delve into the mysteries of Ruledour Nainec. The intricacies of the Krankefluche had been enthralling her all week, and she had initiated a correspondence with Limbaugh who was owling her all the resources he had on the disease. It really was nice to be talking to the old professor again; she had missed him over the summer.

Classes were dull. There had been a decided lack of verbal spars this week. All she could do when she saw Draco was cringe and try to bear under the wave of pain that hit her. Potions was the worse – every ten minutes or so, a fresh swell would capture her in throes of torture. She didn't know what she'd do if she ever had to stay in his presence longer than an hour.

And of course, Draco hadn't started anything. He merely sent the occasional sneer in her direction, or acknowledged her darkly over the room.

The Ravenclaws were disappointed.

Ginny smiled at the thought. Brandon Lawsley, an eager gambler and 4th year Ravenclaw had actually approached her today and asked if something was wrong.

Sad when the only interaction you get with other human beings is to be asked when you'll yell at Draco Malfoy next.

But she couldn't. Even if she could look at him and not feel pain, she could never bring herself to tear him down verbally again. As much as her intellect was appalled, Ginny had forgiven Malfoy for being so nasty. He was most certainly justified – it was all he knew, and besides, if she were in his situation, she'd probably be a tad cranky as well.

She would heal him. She was determined. And in the meantime, she would give him all the care that was humanly possible – even if it meant suffering in her schoolwork like this.

Perhaps, if she was lucky, he'd even let her.

*****************************************

Ginny collapsed into a fading maroon armchair in the Gryffindor common room, her bag following suit at her feet. The few people milling about shot her a look of distaste and pointedly stood up and stalked away. She really didn't give a damn. She took a long chug of coffee from the large cup Dobby had most graciously prepared for her in the Kitchens.

She was really getting addicted to the stuff.

It was Saturday afternoon, and she had just finished her independent study in Snape's dungeons. Her shift this morning had been quite uneventful. Saturdays usually were; most students were at Hogsmeade or otherwise too busy enjoying themselves to get hurt. The only major incident was a distressed young first year who came blundering in flanked by two friends, head firmly planted in a rather large Grecian urn. Peeves' mischief, undoubtedly. Filch would be livid when he found out.

Other than that, she had had decidedly too many long hours to finish her work and contemplate Malfoy's case. You're becoming obsessed, you know, her conscience warned her.

Ginny snapped her head up violently at the sound of the portrait opening, spilling coffee all down her jean skirt. "Shit!" she cursed involuntarily.

A tense head of frizzy brown curls snapped her way. Hermione Granger's eyes widened in horror as she dropped her books and ran to Ginny's side.

"Oh Merlin Ginny, are you ok? I'm so sorry!" Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered a quick cleaning spell that mercifully cooled the denim on Ginny's thighs.

Ginny looked up at Hermione and mumbled confused thanks before taking out her own wand and rolling up her skirt. An angry red burn glared up at her and Ginny winced and muttered a spell, sighing in relief as cool mist flowed from the tip of her wand to the wound.

She looked up and smiled at Hermione, who was wringing her hands in humiliation. "Calm down, Hermione, it's nothing. Really, it's all better now!" She couldn't help but be amused by the distraught brunette's constant worrying.

"But did you see the size of that welt! Gods Ginny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you and …"

"Hermione, sit down, you're freaking me out." Ginny pushed Hermione into a nearby couch and looked at her curiously. "It's my fault, I was spacing out."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded after one last concerned glance to Ginny's leg.

A long, awkward silence ensued as the girls remembered they weren't friends anymore.

"Umm … I'll just be going then …" Ginny mumbled stupidly as she pulled at her stubbornly heavy bag and wondered for the millionth time what had happened to end the friendship with her closest confidante.

"No, Ginny, I want to talk to you."

Oh great. Here we go. Ginny had expecting the lecture for weeks now. Hermione had expressed blatant disappointment in her, for reasons Ginny couldn't really fathom. Of all people, Hermione Granger should understand social equality – after all, she was teased ruthlessly about her parentage and muggle background. Ginny had really thought Hermione would understand … it's when you lose the esteem of your best friends that you truly have no where to turn, and that loss had been so tangible the last few weeks.

Ginny rolled her eyes and faced her ex-friend. "Look, Hermione, I don't know what it is you, or the whole school for that matter, have against me, but if you're only here to condemn me for something I'm obligated to do, I think we're done." She was tired. She really didn't feel like standing up for herself right now.

To her everlasting surprise, Hermione looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

"Merlin Ginny, is that really what you think of me? I don't care that you work! In fact, I'm really proud of you!" Hermione coughed uncomfortably. "Proud of the work, that is, not its reason." She frowned disapprovingly, the tears swelling in her eyes again. "I guess, Ginny, it's just … I thought I knew you. Why? Why did you do it?" The tears were openly falling down Hermione's cheeks now.

Ginny was taken aback. Hermione was not one to show emotion so freely.

What on earth is she on about?

"Uh … I'm not sure I know what you mean, Hermione."

Hermione glared, immediately scolding Ginny. "Don't give me that! I've been best friends with you and your brother since the two of you came to Hogwarts. I really thought I knew you. And honestly Ginny, I can't see how you could have stooped any lower – or why."

Ginny leaned forward in her chair, wondering if Hermione was finally losing it after years of late night studying and over-achievement. "Hermione. What the hell are you talking about?"

Her old friend shot her a reproachful frown and then studied Ginny's face for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, as Ginny was just about to give up in exasperation and go lie down, Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

"You didn't do it."

"Great Merlin, Hermione, you've gone totally bonkers." Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at Hermione incredulously, vaguely wondering what had happened to finally make Hermione snap as she reached for her bag a second time.

With alarming forcefulness, Hermione grabbed Ginny's shoulders and looked her in the eyes, her face turning an unnatural shade of alabaster with confusion and panic.

"Ginny … oh my God. You don't even know."

Ginny felt apprehension wash over her. "What?" she asked curtly.

Hermione was raising trembling hands to her mouth, her caramel flecked eyes wide first in horror and then anger. The petite brunette leapt up very suddenly from her chair, screaming Ron's name at the to of her lungs.

"ROOOOONNN! RONALD WEASELY! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU? GET DOWN HERE IMMEADIATELY!"

Ginny winced, rubbing her ears tenderly and trying to remember if she had ever heard Hermione Granger swear before.

She looked up at the fuming girl and tentatively offered, "Umm, I think he's at quidditch practice, Hermione. Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Ginny snapped a little too sarcastically. It was taking all of her energy to remain patient.

Hermione was stomping around the common room, muttering to herself and yelling every now and then for Ron. When she looked up to face Ginny, the tears were back, glistening over her coffee brown eyes, and the colour of her face had gone from deathly pale to a colour that would have rivaled Ginny and Ron's very own trademark Weasely flush.

Ginny felt her skin crawl in foreboding dread; something terrible had happened and she had a very nervous feeling she was the only one who didn't know.

"Ginny. Gods, where do I start … I'm so sorry! I had no idea …" Hermione flung herself at the redhead, and cried silently into her shoulder, refusing to say anything else.

Somebody better tell me what's going on RIGHT NOW.

Deep breath. 1, 2, 3 … Ginny finally lost her composure.

"Hermione Granger! Quit whining!" Ginny shoved the girl out of her arms. "What the fuck is going on?!" Ginny grabbed Hermione's shoulders, forcing her to face her even as Hermione's eyes darted away uncomfortably.

She slowly looked back to Ginny cautiously. "Ginny … umm … Ron told everyone you had moved out this summer." She tooka deep breath. "and that you … uh … became a … umm … professional escort." Hermione Granger coughed pristinely and watched sympathetically as Virginia fell to the couch in stunned disbelief.

*****************************************

Oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

He told everyone I was a whore.

Ginny was seated on the cool white tile of the hospital floor, the early Sunday morning sun pouring in through the enormous archaic window she was leaning against. The sun warmed her right cheek, leaving the other half of her body unpleasantly cold.

She couldn't believe it.

Hermione had fussed and bothered over her for a good twenty minutes, apologizing endlessly before Ginny could drag the rest of the explanation out of her. Haltingly, Hermione had proceeded to tell her that Ron's owls over the summer had been most peculiar, expressing his anger first at Lucius Malfoy for making his family suffer, and then, as things progressed, his anger at his parents and Ginny for their calm acceptance of poverty. Ron was proud; and he wrote on several occasions that he wouldn't stand to see the Weasely family dishonoured by Ginny working for a living at sixteen.

'Can you even imagine how she'll be treated, or me, even, for that matter, and then Thomas and Luke when they get to Hogwarts in a few years time? You have no idea how it is to live with a constant feeling of failure, Hermione. I can't let this happen.' he had apparently written once. But, according to Hermione, he had never once mentioned Ginny's "summer job" until they had all arrived at Hogwarts. And it had of course been quite believable after Draco Malfoy shouted through the crowded 4th year train carriage that she had taken up whoring on Temptation Alley over the summer.

This outburst was followed by several minutes of Hermione berating herself for not seeing through the simple prevarication sooner – Ron had jumped on the first opportunity to separate himself and his family from Ginny's disgrace.

Disgrace.

It made Ginny want to cry.

You are crying, stupid.

Ginny wiped her tears away angrily and stuffed that annoying inner voice back into the recesses of her mind where its taunts would be smothered. She couldn't stand it. She had never been good enough for Ron – and now she never would be.

The rest didn't matter. The rumour started itself, really – enough people had heard Malfoy's comment. Ron had merely fanned the flames. Virginia Weasley is a whore. Yea, I heard she was working in Temptation Alley this summer. Her family disowned her. That's why Ron Weasley's not talking to her. She has to work in the hospital cuz otherwise she wouldn't be able to go to school, you know.

It all made such horrifying sense now.

Why the Gryffindors hated her. Why there had been so many whore-related insults in her various verbal matches, insults she had brushed off as simply unoriginal tactics.

They all thought she was a whore. Literally.

And her big brother, her hero, had eagerly taken the lie and spread it like a bad cold through the halls of Hogwarts.

He didn't want to associate himself with me.

Do you blame him?

A new flood of tears spilled down her cinnamon dotted cheeks as Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, sobbed like a baby into the unforgiving, frosted bay window of the Hogwarts hospital wing.

*****************************************

It was just another Sunday morning.

Draco limped feebly into the hospital wing, his eyes flitting suspiciously around the room until its vacancy was confirmed. Letting out a deep sigh, he felt his body crash to a nearby bed and the crisp white sterility of the place cool his burning body.

He winced a little, the arches of his feet throbbing in untended pain. Pansy Fucking Parkinson had 'romantically surprised him' the day before by surrounding herself in candles and prostrating herself on his bed in lingerie that should never, EVER be worn by anyone weighing more than 60 kilos. He had nearly vomited before a rush of familiar pain scorched into the soles of his feet. The candles had reminded him of the time his father first discovered the delights of hot pokers … his feet being the first experiment. God, that hurt like hell.

Goddamn Pansy Parkinson, pig-faced slut, he thought miserably as he lay there, staring at the ceiling.

His mouth turned into an angry scowl at the next thought.

Goddamn Blaise Zabini for giving her the fucking password.

Ugh. Surrounded by morons.

At the moment, just as he was about to wonder where his delicious nurse was (a certain nurse he had decided to give another chance after watching her closely all week), he heard what sounded like a strangled sob from the other end of the wing.

Groaning, he teetered to his feet, mentally cursing his insuppressible gentlemanly instincts. It was practically built into his genetic code, for Merlin's sake: 'Woman cries, Man finds out why, Man comforts, Man beats crap out of reason.'

Draco slowly made his way down the long aisle flanked by immaculate twin beds until he reached Pomfrey's office. The whimpers were intensifying, and he turned the corner of her office to face the second, seldom-used ward that was his personal favourite. The enormous window overlooking a spectacular view of the Hogwarts gardens had been a place of solace for him many times before.

But this time, seated on the floor to the far left corner of the floor-to-ceiling glass plated window was a petite young woman, her knees pulled to her chest and her long, scarlet curls spilling down her graceful back. Her small shoulders were shaking in silent tears, and the light pouring in through the window illuminated a barely visible puddle at her feet. She must have been crying like that for hours.

Hopelessly, he noted that the soft sunlight also left the impression of a humble round halo floating atop her burning locks. She was irresistable even when she was sobbing and he couldn't see her face.

As quietly as he could manage without further injuring the blackened scorches on his feet, he faltered over to the window and lowered himself to the ground, ignoring the various protests and cracks his body made. Once planted firmly on the ground, he studied the sad goddess in front of him and wondered what he should do. He couldn't just leave her like that.

"Weasley?"

*****************************************

It took Ginny a few seconds to peel herself off the ceiling and regain her poise after Malfoy rudely snapped her out of her pity-party.

Taking a few deep breaths, she tucked her wild curls behind her ears, trying to look somewhat normal and appropriately haughty. She eyed Malfoy furtively.

"Yes?" she faltered. Her confidence was shattered. Well if this isn't just the icing on the cake. She tried to discreetly dry her soaked face in semblance of getting up and reaching her robed arm past her face to grab for a handhold.

Malfoy didn't say a word, just grapsed her wrist firmly and pulled her back to the ground.

Slowly, she ventured to look up into his tired face. Bad idea. In an instant she was lying on her back gripping her stomach and clawing wildly at her … feet? She groaned and bit her lip as she waited for the pain to pass. He was hurting so much.

When she finally climbed back into a makeshift sitting position, he was staring at her with an eyebrow cocked in question and body posture radiating superficial power. But his eyes … the depths of his eyes were searching her soul again, asking what was wrong and begging for her to help him, all at once.

"Anything, wrong weasel?" he inquired in a surprisingly decent tone.

"No, nothing," Ginny responded somewhat abruptly, wiping at her face distractedly.

His eyes never leaving hers, he pulled a black silk handkerchief from the folds of his robes and offered it to her chivalrously.

Goddamn. How do I explain my way out of this one?

She accepted the handkerchief gratefully and blew her nose, trying not to face Malfoy, wishing he could just go away and let her rot in peace. Part of her wanted desperately to get up and find his Relieving Potion, put him in a bed and tuck the covers up under chin, mop his forehead and take his temperature as he fell asleep. The other part was crumbling in unabashed exhaustion, too drained to even scold her for wanting to heal Malfoy. She was emotionally sapped and mentally lost.

She was also apparently going completely schizo, she realized as she made another swab at her still leaking eyes.

He's never gonna let you forget this, love. On top of all that, she was discovering that her conscience had serious attitude problems.

*****************************************

She had nearly died when he called her name softly at first. Then she nearly died again when he looked her in the eyes.

It had happened all week. Every time he saw the girl she would nearly cry out in pain, and simultaneously he would feel the smallest inkling of relief. It was like taking a sip of Relieving Potion every time he saw her. And for her, of course, it was a little taste of hell. It made him want to laugh and cry all at once – she could never know the literal hell he existed in, that what little she experienced was nothing. Funny, really. But she was in such utter anguish – such complete torment over him. Emotionally too. He could see it in her eyes.

He had noticed; of course. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. Nothing gets by a Malfoy. Her damn eyes changed colour whenever he passed his pain to her.

Draco watched her as she nervously accepted his handkerchief and blew her nose genteelly, tucking her beautiful spirals of sanguine fire behind her tiny ears. Her hair was rumpled, like she had just gotten out of bed. Wild to match her personality. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her eyes were sparkling their natural green colour a little more vibrantly than usual, tears glistening in the sunlight. Her long auburn lashes squeezed shut quickly and brushed her fairy-dusted cheekbones as another tear squeezed out. Draco had a very sudden and disturbing urge to wipe it away. Such utter innocence, such complete naïveté packaged into such a fiery spirit. Draco closed his eyes as a wave of intensely seductive fragrance hit his nostrils full force – it smelled like toasted vanilla, innocently childlike while at the same time womanly and sexual.

MALFOY! SNAP OUT OF IT!

He had just been contemplating the questionable beauty of a Weasley. Holy Fuck. Someone needed to shoot him.

He contemplated getting up and leaving, but there was something about Virginia Weasley that wouldn't let him leave. If anything, the curiosity of why she had been sitting alone in the second ward sobbing was eating him alive.

"Anything wrong, weasel?"

*****************************************

Ginny watched skeptically as Malfoy nearly choked on his tea. "He what?"

He had insisted she tell him what she was crying about. Good ammo for future battles, he had said. And she had in turn insisted that he take his relieving potion first. Good diversion tactic, she had said.

And now, for Merlin knows what reason, she was informing Draco Malfoy of the newest definition of ass –a certain Ronald Weasley.

They were both sitting on a dusty bed near the window in the second ward. No patients had been in here for as long as Ginny could remember – as far as she knew, she was the only person ever to stay here for a sustained period of time. After the Chamber of Secrets, that is. But apparently Malfoy was well acquainted with it too.

She had all together too much in common with the ferret.

They were both sipping the dregs of some sort of tea Ginny had found in a kettle heating itself magically on Pomfrey's desk. He had needed something to wash his potion down; it was a little on the potent side this week.

He had abandoned it completely now, though, and was clutching his sides in mirth, the mug lying forgotten on the floor beside the bed.

Malfoy was positively gleeful.

"What an idiot! What a moron!" He broke into loud snickers again. "That's so priceless. And to think that I had something to do with it!" His laughter was downright infectious.

Ginny giggled a little, bubbles forming in her tea. It was kinda funny. She schooled her face back into a frown quickly. It was also quite sacrilegious of her to be here talking to Draco Malfoy for … she glanced at a nearby chronometer. Twenty minutes?! How on earth had she managed to carry on decent conversation with him for that long?

In all honesty, she didn't really care. He was quite literally the only person she could talk to, and amazingly, he was listening – and finding it incredibly amusing, at that. Even Hermione wouldn't do that. Ginny had an ominous feeling that her know-it-all friend would be groveling in apology for weeks.

Ginny refocused on the convulsing Malfoy, who looked decidedly better with his glamour charm back on and medicine in his stomach.

"It's not funny Malfoy. No thanks to you, and kudos to my brother, the entire school thinks I'm a prostitute!"

Very naughty images of Virginia Weasley, lace, chocolate syrup and a pole raced through Malfoy's head. He shook it clear and focused on the distraught young woman before him.

"But you're not. Or as far as I know."

"Harhar. Funny, ferret, real funny. Want a cookie?"

"Oh save it, Weasley." He pondered her meditatively. "You know, you're not all that bad." Malfoy's mind went blank. "Why do I hate you again?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Did he always act this weird after he took his potion? "Because I'm a Weasely, Malfoy, remember? Red hair, lack of cash?"

Malfoy snapped his fingers obligingly. "Ah yes! Shame, really." He shoved his nose into the air.

At that instant, a brilliant idea presented itself to Draco's thought process.

Ginny knew before he had even said the words.

"Weasel. Listen. I've got a smashing idea." A scheming sneer played around Malfoy's cold lips. "I hate your brother. You hate your brother. I hate you, but not really because of you, just because of who you are." Ginny looked at him in confusion. He waved his hand distractedly. "And you hate me because I hate your brother, who you hate now, so it doesn't really matter.

"Malfoy, I don't think you could possibly sound more inane if you tried."

"I propose a truce, Miss Weasley," Draco said ever so formally, rising and bowing. "A truce for purposes of revenge." He ceremonially extended his hand to a perplexed Ginny.

"Oh come on Weasel! Just so we can pull a really good one on him, it's a perfect! Just imagine what we could do!" he begged. Schemes of surreal, anti-Dream Team bliss floated before Draco's eyes.

Suddenly, to his surprise and auditory pain, Ginny squealed loudly in delight.

"Malfoy! You're a genius! We could totally murder him and he would never guess it was us, I mean, who would think the great, all-worthless Draco Malfoy would associate himself, let alone plot, with Virginia Weasley, meek 6th year sister of Ronald Blushing Weasley."

Draco coloured slightly, a little taken aback that Ron's sister was so familiar with nicknames he probably didn't even know existed.

Splendid, though.

She saw his point.

What pangs of agony Ronald Weasley would go through when they turned his hair blue or something equally hilarious. O, what hyseterical, wonderful pain he would experience if he ever found out it was Malfoy and his sister that had planned it.

The look on his face would almost make up for the pain Draco could still feel grating on his skin. For a few minutes, at least.

What a fabulous notion, he thought happily as she shook his hand, its small proportions lost in his large, well manicured palms.

Ron would never believe it. Ginny giggled girlishly at the thought of her brother spotted purple. Anything, really. He would never be able to experience the mortification she had, anyway. It would be worth it just to see his face.

What an awesome idea, Ginny thought as she took Malfoy's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

Ron is so gonna get it.

And as well he should! After what he did to you?

Ginny winced and tried not to focus on the pain that had been so unbearable before Malfoy had come. Mixing her pain with his, she was able to forget … and simply plot.

She spent all day on that dusty old bed with the Hogwarts Slytherin sex god. Oh, if only Pansy knew.

Her lips twisted into a demure smile; visions of revenge filling her head as the two of them launched into serious debate and conniving conspiracy.

*****************************************

"Hey Ginny, looks like you could use a new robe. I'll get you one if you help me with mine."

Ginny snorted in disgust and pushed an over-excited Ravenclaw off her chest and sent daggers at him with her eyes. He tottered away mindfully after a final, sorrowful glance over his shoulder, to which she scowled.

She was incredibly happy though. Walking on air, in fact.

Never mind that the only reason she could be this happy was because of a certain, deeply evil Slytherin who had sort of caused her problems indirectly to begin with.

Didn't matter.

It was too perfect.

A certain very, very horrible scheme found its way into her mind.

At that moment, her co-conspirator stalked pass and slid her a knowing glance and quick wink, nodding in confirmation.

Ginny pulled her books to her chest and grinned. Smiled like she hadn't in weeks. She heard someone yelling something about nurses and muggles and sex, but it slid off of her like oil on water.

Ron had no idea what he was in for.

*****************************************

A/N: The muses were kind. What do you think? Be heard! Review! lol … I'm desperate, I know.

I'm sorry about the weird spacing. I had to go back and put in *** things where there were breaks of thought, and I really hate *** thingys but I have no choice, otherwise it would all run together. Grr. I'm quite digitally challenged … I don't even know how to change the ellipses, they're totally messed up, it only shows one dot instead of three. *sighs and shakes head* Computers.