(sorry, couldn't find any real good quotes that pertained to the story, so I got these about love, men and women)

Someone once told me that love makes the world go 'round. Well, I just had to laugh in their face because, c'mon, everyone knows that what makes the world go 'round is a mutant gerbil on a treadmill-from Mutedfaith.com

        

         Men are from earth. Women are from earth. Deal with it-from Mutedfaith.com

Ginny Weasley sat in the far corner of the library, well away from the sunny walls and comfortable window seats that she usually occupied.  There were two reasons for this.  The first reason was that she didn't want to see anyone who might want to ask her about her recent altercation with Pansy Parkinson.  The second was that she'd been crying and she didn't want anyone to see her face right now, with the splotches and red eyes to accompany her fiery hair.

         She had her homework with her, as well as a new romance that her mum had sent her, but Ginny ignored both.  She was too busy glaring at nothing in particular to pay attention to anything so mundane as homework.  The romance, too, wasn't worth a thought.  It was of the 'they kissed and then their bliss took them to the stars and back' variety.  The heroine in these sorts of novels was always a sweet, innocent (stupid) young girl from the upper classes without a penny to her name that had somehow with her insipidity and inexperience had managed to snare the richest, handsomest, and most confirmed bachelor 'on the market'.  Oh, Ginny had thought with a snort, let's not forget that he would be an earl, or a viscount, or a wizard of the most amazing abilities.  Even Ginny, with her love of the handsome hero and the beautiful heroine, couldn't stomach the treacley tripe between the covers of this romance.

         So she sat, embarrassed and angry, hoping no one she knew would find her.  Of course, she should have expected that she would be found.  It had just been that kind of day.  She certainly should not have been surprised that the person who found her would tug on the long braid that she routinely wore.  Unfortunately, she hadn't and she was, so instead of simply glaring at the young man who had approached her so quietly and tugged on her braid, she flew from her chair, swinging around and catching the young man with a blow that would have been vicious had he not had the quick reflexes of a born seeker. 

         "God, Weasley!  What the hell was that for!"

         Draco Malfoy gently fingered his chin, where Ginny's fist had glanced off.  It hurt like hell and he could only be grateful that he'd been able to dodge the force of the blow. 

         "Are you insane?"

         Ginny stared, shocked.  She hadn't intended to attack anyone; it had just happened.  Probably a result of the fight she'd had with that cow Parkinson.  She felt contrite, too.  She really did like this boy, in spite of all of their differences.

         "I'm sorry!" she said quickly, looking from him to her fist as though trying to figure out how it had acted without her permission.

         "Yeah, thanks, brat.  I'll remember that when I'm suing you for assault!  And at the risk of sounding annoyingly repetitive, what the hell was that for?  You never cared when I did that before. You act like I hurt you or something."

         Now Ginny gave him a narrow look.  "It did, you great git.  What did you expect?"

Draco tilted his head slightly.  "What do you mean?  I barely pulled!"

Ginny blinked.  "You mean you didn't hear?"

         "Hear what?  I've been stuck in Snape's class.  He seems to think I need extra work on my advanced potions before NEWTS."

         He moved around the table and sat down.  "So, what happened?  And what are you doing over here in the corner?  I wasn't even going to look over—hey!  Have you been crying?"

         "Oh, well spotted, Malfoy!" Ginny answered acidly.  "What gave you the clue?  The crumpled tissues?  The red eyes?"

         Draco held his hands up in a warding gesture.  "Hey, don't take it out on me if the coffee house berk doesn't answer your letters!"

         "You're a pathetic git, Malfoy, you know that?  This doesn't have anything to do with Bob, and just because he doesn't—I mean, that's none of your business.  But I'll tell you this right now!  You'd better keep your girlfriend on a leash, because if she comes within two meters of me again, she'll need more than Madam Pomfrey to fix her!"

         Draco nearly backed away from the angry glare the small Gryffindor across from him was giving him.  "My girlfriend?" he said after a moment.  "You are insane, Weasley.  I don't have a girlfriend.  What are you on about?"

         Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.  "Oh, please don't tell me you didn't know about Parkinson and all her brave little Slytherin girlfriends planning on cornering me and trying to give me a new hairstyle, without benefit of scissors!"

         Ginny was nearly spitting with anger, but the look of bewilderment on the face of the young man sitting across from her calmed her a bit.  Perhaps he really hadn't heard.  It didn't take long for the bewilderment to disappear and another emotion to replace it.  Despite spending most of her free time in this young man's company for the last several months, his black scowl had her cringing. 

         "Are you telling me that Pansy and her girlfriends attacked you?" he demanded in a low voice. 

         Shaking off her momentary fright, Ginny sniffed.  "They tried to attack me.  You know from personal experience that it isn't that easy to do."

         She couldn't help sounding just a little pompous at that declaration.  Even though Draco hadn't tried to hex her in almost a year, he'd been on the receiving end of her defensive hexes often enough. 

         "Forget about that," he said with an impatient wave of his hand.  "Tell me what happened."

         Ginny shrugged.  "Well, first off, I am sorry for hitting you, but you'll understand when I explain.  And I'm sitting back here because I know Snape or McGonagall or Hermione or someone is going to come looking for me sooner or later to tell them what I hexed your girlfriend with."

         Draco scowled again.  "She's not my girlfriend," he gritted out.  "How many times do I have to tell you that? And what the hell happened?"

         "Fine!" Ginny said indignantly.  The effect was spoiled by the sudden malicious grin that stole across her face.  "You know those girls Parkinson hangs about with?"

         Draco nodded, wondering why his stomach was in such knots. Weasley looked fine, blotches and tear stains aside, and from his own experience it was probably Pansy he should be worrying about.  But the way she'd reacted, hitting out at him so blindly, had him upset. 

         "Well," she said, "I was on my way back to Gryffindor after classes and Parkinson and her gang sort of slithered up."

         The gist of the story was that Pansy had scared off Weasley's friends, then had started bullying the girl.  Weasley wasn't that easy to bully, though, and Pansy and her friends found they had a little devil on their hands, rather than the tiny weasel they'd thought.  Apparently they'd begun grabbing at her, trying to rip her clothes and pull her hair.  Pansy had gotten in one vicious yank before Weasley had hexed the girl.  The rest of the gang ran off, typically abandoning one of their own.  After sending the Gryffindor house ghost to get the healer, Weasley had come here.

         Draco wasn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned.  Coming to his feet, he came around behind her and gently slid his hand into the hair under her braid.

         "What are you—ouch!  Damn, that bloody well hurts!"

         Draco withdrew his fingers.  "Bloody is right.  That bitch practically yanked your hair out," he said in a cold voice, displaying his slightly blood streaked fingertips.  "I should—,"

         "You won't do anything!" Ginny snapped, feeling rather uncomfortable now.  She'd never admit it to him, but it had felt quite nice to have him running his fingers through her hair.  Even the twinge of pain hadn't really been that bad.  It was more her own embarrassment that had caused her to cry out.  It would never do for him to think she really was going sweet on him.  Besides, she wasn't…much. 

         Standing abruptly, she backed away.  "The hex I used was one I've been experimenting with.  I'm not sure if the healer is going to be able to nullify it without some help.  As it was, she probably had to scrape up the mess I left and pour Parkinson into a bed.  I should go."

         "Oh, I see," Draco said nastily.  He didn't, though.  He'd barely touched her and she'd jumped away as though he were contaminated.  Surprisingly, that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.  Giving her a sneer, he motioned to the long, thick braid and said, "Well, Weasley, here's just one bit of advice.  If you're not even going to do anything with it, you should cut that thing off.  Then people wouldn't mistake it for a bell rope."

         Draco turned and sauntered off, with Ginny watching bleakly.  He didn't see, at all.  Draco Malfoy indignant and angry on her behalf was something new to her.  And Draco Malfoy sliding gentle, graceful fingers into her hair and getting all cold and Slytherin over a bit of blood was just destined to sent her catapulting far beyond 'sweet' and into the frightening waters of 'infatuated'. 

         She watched him leave the library, brushing past Professor McGonagall.  Sighing, Ginny gathered her things and by the time she was finished, the professor was standing by her side. 

         "Miss Weasley," the professor said in a stiff voice.  "Would you kindly accompany me to the infirmary?  And when we're through there, we'll have a nice long discussion about hexing other students.  Others might let their students get away with it, but regardless of the provocation, we are Gryffindors!"

         Feeling her heart sinking to her toes, Ginny hefted her bag and followed the Transfiguration professor out of the library.