A/N: The song Tiny Dancer by Elton John is in this chapter. Listen to the
song as you read it, it will be a lot more fun! Also, you can see below I
put in some interesting facts on Draco and his family. You don't have to
read it if you don't want to. If you don't, then skip to 'Chapter 6' and
read on!
Maleficus, meaning evil-doer. Maleficent, harmful or evil in intent or effect. Mal foi, "bad faith."
Lucifer, the Devil.
Narcissus, vain, in Greek myth he fell in love with himself and drowned in a river while admiring his own reflection.
Draco, "dragon" and "snake."
Dragaon- From the Latin Draco. Symbol of many real and fictional kings and of destruction. Some heroes discover dragons are misunderstood. Though they can be frightening, they can also be benevolent. Dragons are feared because of their appearance. It is harmless in the way of poison, but poison is not necessary for it to cause death because it kills whatever it has entangled in its folds. They're not always enemies of humans; they're benevolent-though sometimes bossy. Most important, it is a symbol of leadership. The blood of a dragon is also magical. "To kill a dragon is to become king."
***
Chapter 6.
The middle of October came with a whoosh of spiced air and fallen leaves before any of the Hogwarts houses realized. The days leading to now weren't filled with much excitement for Harry; mostly filled with homework, Quidditch practices, avoiding Ron, nodding and agreeing with whatever Hermione says, and eyeing Brooke when she wasn't looking.
But now Harry was bored sitting in the common room with nothing to do. He had finished all his homework and he didn't have to meet his Quidditch team for another four hours. Harry picked himself off the warm sofa facing a dancing fire. He decided to take a walk around the castle, maybe find someone to occupy his time.
This had been a mistake.
"Oh Harry! Where are you going?" A soprano voice called to his back. Harry turned to face his ex-girlfriend, Cho Chang.
Cho was obviously heading to the library, for she held tons of blue books in her arms. "I'm just taking a walk, so I'll-er-see you later?" He didn't intend for his voice to crack.
"Alright." Cho turned a bit then faced Harry again. "Are you and Ron friends again?"
This was personal. Harry hadn't talked to Cho since the first day of classes, and to say that it didn't go too well would be an understatement. "No, we're not. I really have to be going."
"I thought you were just walking around." Cho raised one brow.
"Well I am but-er-I just remembered I-er-have to be going to...to" Harry was obviously horrible at lying. "To do some things." He turned from her, dashing back to the safety of his common room when...SMACK!
"WHAT IN MERLIN! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU-uh-you...Harry?"
There was Brooke. Brooke, Brooke, Brooke. Harry had run smack-dab into BROOKE. She started to blush and Harry helped her back to her feet.
"Always nice running into you." 'Wow, that was so lame.' Thought Harry. Harry looked up and locked eyes with her. She had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. They gave her so much personality.
Brooke smiled her fascinating way and began to pick up what had dropped from her shopping bag when she ran into Boy Wonder.
'He is so fucking good-looking.' Brooke thought while on the floor. Harry bent down to help and Brooke caught a peak at his bottom. Perfect. She danced her eyes to Harry's chest. Perfect. Following to his shoulders. Perfect. Then to his neck. Perfect. And finally to his face. Perfect, perfect, PERFECT. She had never compared that word to one guy in such a short time, if at all.
"Where are you going with these weird shoes?" Harry held up black, high- heeled footwear with dirt marks across the toe part and metal plates on the sole.
"Those are tap shoes, Harry. And these are jazz shoes, and these are ballet slippers." Brooke pointed to a pair of worn, used-to-be-black shoes with thick dark plastic soles by the heel and toes, then to pointy, fresh pink slippers with long matching ribbon coming from where the ankle would be.
Harry remembered watching a ballet program when he was about eight, over his Aunt's shoulder. He thought they looked so beautiful: high on their toes, with their hair in buns, and lace skirts billowing when they turned.
"You dance?" Was all Harry could say in response as they got to their feet.
"I've been dancing since I was seven until about a year ago. I was on my way to practice when I bumped into you." Brooke smiled again.
"Where are you going to practice?"
She subconsciously bit her lip, "Good question; I have no idea. I was going to try to find an empty classroom, but I wouldn't have music."
"Oh." Harry bit his lip too. Could he trust her? 'YES!' Screamed a voice in his head. "C'mere."
"Oh no, not another one of your room surprises!" Said Brooke, although she walked along as Harry tugged at her sleeve.
Up, up, up. Staircase after staircase, step after step. When they reached a point where Brooke wondered if she should tell Harry she was going to turn back, they came to a stop.
"Here we are." Harry turned, letting Brooke look at his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. "Seventh floor opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls." He pointed to the tapestry.
"Well this is almost as wonderful as the Great Hall." Brooke rolled her eyes.
"Its better!" Apparently he didn't notice the sarcasm. 'How cute!' Harry ran his fingers through his disastrous hair, making it worse. "I need you to concentrate hard on a wizard dance studio while walking past this bit of wall three times; I'll do the same."
Brooke didn't understand this boy, he was so different. Harry stole her hand and pulled her into a walk past the wall.
'We need a place for us to dance...' She thought. "Just give us a place to practice...somewhere big, roomy, and with lots of mirrors.' Brooke felt stupid, but continued none the less. 'With music and bright lights.'
They passed the wall a second time and Brooke looked up at Harry, who had his eyes screwed shut.
"Harry!" Brooke came to a halt after the third walk past.
Two glossy white doors had appeared in the wall. Brooke was dumbfounded, her expression made Harry smirk; yes, smirk. 'Just when I thought he couldn't get any cuter.'
Harry turned the brass knob and flexed the door open a small crack. He waited for Brooke to make the first entrance.
The room was magnificent. The walls stretched high with mirrors in place of paint on three walls, the fourth was occupied of a painting of a ballerina in a dark green dress, studded with charmed sparkles. A boy in a blue suit was holding her up in the air. The picture didn't move an inch besides the glitter on the girl's dress.
"That was my idea." Harry said, referring to the picture. In front of the painted dancers, on the floor, were two rows of uncomfortable looking chairs. To the right of the chairs was a funny looking thing; it was small, black, had numerous buttons and numbers, and two metal screens.
"Wha's that?" Brooke pointed to the 'funny looking thing.'
"Don't you know?" Harry smirked for a second time. "It's a boom box." He moved to the so-called 'boom box' and pressed on a button and it magically played music; bad music.
"Never seen that before, it's like magic!" Harry laughed. "What's so funny, Potter?"
"Nothing, nothing! It's just that it's a muggle thing, it's anything but magic."
"Oh, I see; well play a different song, this one's giving me a headache." The music blasted a black rapper who cursed and said 'nigga' a lot.
Harry turned a knob-how he knew which to touch-God only knows. Every song sounded the same. "Sorry, I can't find any good stations."
Brooke decided against asking him what a 'stations' was. "Then pick your own song!"
"Huh?"
"Oh lady, you can't pick your own song with this muggle crap, can you?" Brooke was always amazed at how muggles ever got along daily. "TINY DANCER!"
'What in the name of Merlin did she just screech?' Harry wondered as he looked to the smiling girl. All at once, light piano music filled the room from the walls, floor, and ceiling. 'Now this is what I call surround sound!'
Brooke snapped her fingers for his attention; she'd been asking the same question twice. "Should I do jazz, hip hop, tap, or ballet?"
"WHAT?!?" Harry shouted, startled from being out of his trance. "Oh-um- could you do ballet? I really would like to see that." Brooke nodded and reached for her bag. She pulled her pale pink slippers from it and glided her feet into them, then tied the lace in a criss-cross form up her leg in skin colored tights. "This is how our world listens to music, I suppose?"
"Yes, this is how the proper ones listen to their songs...but I have an interest in some muggle music. Like this song for example." The same song was continuously playing and Harry listened to the words...they were lovely.
"RESTART!" Brooke screamed into the tower again and the music started from the beginning. Harry was amazed a second time. "Hogwarts can't have this sort of music play here, I'm surprised it worked, otherwise we'd be stuck with your excuse for a player." Harry was still looking at the walls as if he'd find a secret speaker. "What are you doing? Sit down." It wasn't a command; it sounded like she was amused.
Harry sat just before Elton John's voice blended into the piano.
'Blue jean baby, LA lady, seamstress for the band. Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man. Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand.'
The floor turned into sand, although it remained a wooden patch under Brooke's feet. She stood on her pointed shoes and pranced like a small girl around the room, although elegantly and stunningly. The mirrors turned a light blue.
'Now she's in me, always with me. Tiny dancer in my hand.'
Brooke gained speed across the room and did a tremendous leap in the air. Her skirt billowed around her and some more platinum blond strands fell from her bun. She looked almost like the ballerina Harry saw on TV that one time, only even more exquisite and graceful.
The beat of the piano picked up and was joined with more instruments. Brooke brought her arms above her head and did quick turns called pirouettes across the 'sand'.
'Jesus freaks, out in the street, Handing tickets out for God. Turning back, she just laughs, The boulevard is not that bad'
Brooke stopped spinning to look at Harry. His eyes were so green. He had a sort of majesty she'd never seen before; even with his mouth hanging open and his cheeks flushed. Brooke smiled with her tongue stuck small between her teeth.
She swung her arms to her left and did a quick five step: right, left, right, right, left and flew from the patch of wood, twirling her legs so her body faced opposite and lading smartly on both feet. "That's a tourjette." She informed the dark haired boy who only nodded, eyes wide and expectant.
'Piano man, he makes his stand, In the auditorium. Looking on, she sings the songs, The words she knows, the tune she hums.'
Brooke went into a frenzy of twirls on one toe and then into a fast spin in the air. She looked a little out of breath but remained smiling. The girl went into a laying position on her stomach and slowly picked her right leg into the empty air and back, back, back over her head; causing the other leg to follow. Harry almost ran from his seat to help her, but she pushed her arms from the floor and did a delicate flip, landing back upright on both feet. She smiled even wider after getting a look at Harry.
But oh, how it feels so real, Lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can't hear me, When I say softly, slowly.
Brooke became a part of the music then; she was the dancer in the song. She did every spin in beat with the piano, every step in turn with the throbbing base, and every swish of her skirt made her ever so much more enticing. 'Softly, slowly' she sang as she walked towards Harry. She cupped his chin in her hands and came oh so close. They were dreadfully close-then again-not so dreadfully. He liked it! He wanted to close the space; he wanted to touch his lips with her plushed red ones, to be her boyfriend. But she left him when the music picked up again. 'Bloody tease!'
'Hold me closer tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen, You had a busy day today.'
This was her finale. She twirled, ran, spun her arms, bent and straitened her legs, snapped her head around to keep eye contact with Harry, and even did a flip. Her face was flushed dark but she didn't look tired except for that, she kept that fantastic smile in place. With every spin and run, a waft of air grazed Harry, it was Brooke; or at least her sent. It smelled fresh, like steam when you step out of a hot shower, and like a tinge of cut lemon, and something else; something so-well-Brooke.
'Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band. Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man. Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand. And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand.'
Brooke slowed her dance movements. She wasn't aggressive in dancing anymore, she looked like a swan now (cliché as it is) and she walked on tiptoes towards Harry. Her eyes never left his on the walk; they were big and shining, gold and wanting. 'And now she's in me,' Brooke made it the distance and kneeled at Harry's feet. Her breath was fast and heaving, her face was featherly moist, and most of her hair fell in her eyes and around her high cheekbones. 'Always with me,' Harry's breath tugged in his throat, he forgot how to breathe! Brooke pushed herself up on her knees, her nose was level with his chin. She could tell Harry was nervous and she liked that. 'Tiny dancer in my hand.' Brooke closed her eyes and felt Harry take a sharp intake of breath. She didn't have to move to him; he came to her. Their lips met. Harry Potter was kissing Brooke Parkinson so lightly and sweetly.
The skin on Brooke's lips was damp while Harry's was dry. Harry's thoughts fluttered away from him and all he could think about was this gorgeous ballerina was kissing him. All he could imagine was her copper eyes. Three words were on repeat: 'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.' Brooke parted her lips. Was she thinking the same thing? Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Now all his thoughts came to him, now he was back in his world and now he did something he thought was the last thing he'd ever want to do.
Harry stopped and broke the contact with Brooke. She opened her glassy eyes with a questionable mark stuck to her adorable face. "What's wrong, Harry?" She whispered. 'Oh good god, she thought she was doing wrong! Never, ever could she do wrong!'
"Nothing, I just, I was just-uh-I" 'Shit! What the hell is wrong with ME?' Harry took a calming breath. "I just didn't know you really liked me like this."
Brooke tightened her lips together as if she were facing the facts. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I thought you felt the same way." She stood up and took a step away from his chair.
"WHAT? No, no. Don't go anywhere." Harry stood too and reached for Brooke's wrist. "I feel the exact same way, I just thought you didn't and it surprised me that you were the first to make the move because of that."
"Oh." That's all she said and a silence fell the room. "So, did you like the dance?"
What a stupid question, how could he NOT like the dance? "Hell yeah, I did!" With that remark Harry yanked Brooke into his arms and they met lips for the second time. Now, they were hard, fast kisses, needy and wanting. Brooke opened her mouth again but Harry didn't make an entry so Brooke pulled back.
"We should get going." Brooke shrugged, trying desperately hard not to look at Harry for fear she'd change her mind and kiss him again.
"Right." Came his raspy reply and he took her hand (like the same way they came in) and walked with her to the doors.
They didn't need words to communicate as they walked towards the Fat Lady Portrait. Their contact remained in their hands that were still entangled together. Brooke poked her small finger between their hands and tickled Harry's palm, while Harry massaged Brooke's knuckles until they made it the way down.
The question that had been lingering in Harry's mind was soon about to explode, and what a better time to ask then this? "Halloween is coming up soon."
"I haven't celebrated that before." Brooke knew where this was going but decided to play hard to get.
"Oh, well I haven't either before I came to Hogwarts..." This wasn't going where he would have liked. "I was wondering if you had a date for the dance after the feast?"
"Not yet." She smirked, reminding Harry of Draco Malfoy only a lot more feminine and pretty.
"Neither do I." This was taking forever! 'Just ask already!' "Would you like to-"
"Harry!" It was the too familiar high-pitched voice he heard earlier. 'Fuck!'
Cho decided to find Harry again after the display of nervousness he showed when they were talking in the hall not too long ago. 'Who's that blond he's with? She looks too stuck-up for her own good.'
"Cho, what are you doing here?" Harry made a fleeting look to Brooke. There wasn't a trace of jealousy on her face.
"I came looking for you after you ran off, I figured you were too nervous to be around me." Now Brooke looked amused.
"When did he 'run off' from you?" Brooke was speaking to Cho. 'Please don't say anything stupid, Cho,' Harry thought, 'Please!'
"Just about a half hour ago." She turned back to Harry. "I would love to go to the dance with you, Harry." Cho smiled. He hated her smile now, he hated the way she thought she was doing him a favor, he hated the way she flipped her black hair over her shoulder as she walked away. But the thing he hated most was seeing Brooke turn away from him. She ran the opposite direction from Cho; away from the common room, away from Harry; 'The Gryffindor God.'
Why was he labeled such mindless things, 'Boy Wonder, Gryffindor God, The Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Boy, Gryffindor's Knight' when he can't even get the girl he wants to go to a school dance with him?
***
Draco was experiencing things that Malfoy's shouldn't ever, EVER experience. He had been standing at the entrance to the Quidditch field for over twenty minutes starring at the sky.
The blue sky wasn't empty though; a girl was on her speeding broom, practicing dives, turns, and fancy loop-de-loops. Her black robes with scarlet trim blew in rhythm with the wind, Draco observed, and her hair whipped in her face in an angelic way.
Draco held his broomstick in his hand but still didn't make any movement except his gray eyes, (that have made so many girls swoon) followed the delicate girl in the air. She was such a sight to see. She looked like she belonged in the sky as a decoration, like an ornament on a Christmas tree. He didn't have a clue who the girl even was; he could tell she was a Gryffindor because of her robes and he could make out she was-in fact-a girl because of her hair but he couldn't see far enough to catch a look at her face.
It was like mystery game he used to play as a child to Draco. He liked guessing in his mind who the girl may be. 'Millicent? No, no, she's far too large for a broom to carry her so elegantly in the air, plus this girl's a Gryffindor. Granger? Possibly, but I seriously hope it isn't her; I'd have to kill myself for taking an interest in that mudblood bookworm. But it couldn't be, she didn't own a broom and if she did she probably wouldn't be as good a flier as this girl. That Parkinson chick? Brooke? Possibly, that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she owned a broomstick? I don't think its her though, I'd be able to see her blond hair from here and from the looks of this girl's hair; it's dark. So who the hell is it?' Draco squinted as the girl flew into the sun. 'Dark hair, Gryffindor, possibly plays Quidditch...'
"WEASLEY!" He hadn't meant to say her name out loud.
Ginny could recognize that snarl anywhere. She dove from the warmth the sun caste on her and to the ground, meeting her pale-skinned enemy.
"What do I owe the pleasure?" Ginny said sarcastically. If only she hadn't been overwhelmed by Draco's appearance, her question would have been a lot more effective. He had on a dark green button down shirt with the top three buttons undone, showing an unmistakably beautiful chest. His tan khakis where just a centimeter from the dewy grass, perfect as he was, and his un-scorched black boots were reflecting the sun.
"You're making an attempt at flying I see?" Draco hated the way he sounded. All of his sly words seemed to be so vengeful while festering in his head, but as soon as he spoke them they didn't sound so mean, he always thought it was his voice that messed it up; he never did like his voice much. "You better keep practicing, there's no way your pussy Gryffindor team will beat Slytherin."
"We did last year, Malfoy. And I can fly circles around you." Ginny thought about her statement and to her horror, it sounded like a threat. Ginny knew Malfoy was an exceptional flyer, he was fast but he never became 'one' with his broom.
"You can fly circles around me? Is that right, you disgrace to the magical world?" He smirked, flashing the right side of his teeth like some sort of pirate. Ginny wished that she could see Draco smile a true smile. If his smirks were so damn sexy just imagine what his smile must look like!
"That's right." This time Ginny surprised herself because she sounded so confident. Lately, all of her emotions weren't coming across right. When she felt sad, she walked around smiling. In the rare moments she was happy, she would say something vile to the closest unsuspecting person.
"Lets make that a bet, loser has to do one thing that the winner says without complaint." 'What am I saying?' Draco didn't know what he was getting into; it seemed as though his mouth disregarded everything that his brain kept telling it to do.
"Fine, then. From those hoops to the other side of the field and back?" Again, she sounded too confident for her own liking.
"Whatever Weasley, just don't forget to slow down when you approach the hoops, I don't want to be blamed for murder." Draco pushed off the ground and sped towards the end of the field, Ginny close behind.
They stopped in front of the middle hoop. "Ready to lick the bottom of my shoes after I win, Malfoy?" Draco was amused on the inside that the youngest Weasley was capable of being witty.
"Only if you're ready to flash the entire Great Hall at dinner." Ginny's face turned red, much to Draco's delight.
"On the count of three." Ginny set her eyes on the opposite goal hoops.
"One." Draco looked at Ginny's determined face.
"Two." Ginny almost whispered. Draco faced forward.
"THREE!" They both yelled together.
They both took off together without a hesitant moment to waste. Ginny felt the cool air cut into her face and chap her lips. She hated flying fast like this; she was the Chaser for Gryffindor, not Seeker (although she wasn't rotten at that either) like Malfoy. She liked to feel more in control of her broom, other than speeding off at an undecided destination; it almost made her sick.
Draco on the other hand, was relaxed on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. He was comfortable with flying so fast that he became a blur to any watchers. He was approaching the other end of the field and figured he should slow down to turn soon. He looked at Virginia but she kept at the same speed. 'Stupid git.' Draco was very close to the poles now; he let his top speed slow. Ginny slowed along with him, she knew what she was doing, and she wouldn't let him go faster than her the slightest bit.
Ginny's palms grew sweatier by the minute, causing her grip on the broom to become slick. Her arms and the back of her neck broke out in small goose bumps, followed by a shock wave of heat flowing from her pulse points. She was falling behind Draco, slowly but surly. Flashing her breasts to all of her classmates certainly wasn't on her to-do list. Ginny narrowed her brown eyes on the middle hoop and sped up with Malfoy. They were neck in neck.
Closer, closer, closer. The end of the field was approaching at an exhausting rate. Draco was determined to win; to even be in a tie with a Weasley didn't satisfy him one ounce. He did the only thing he could think of to insure his win; after all they didn't set any rules.
Ginny was yards away from the three 'bubble-wand-looking' hoops and she still wasn't able to out do Malfoy. If they were tied they'd probably have a re-match, and she wouldn't be able to go through this again, all this pressure. She did a very Slytherin thing, the very thing that the Slytherin beside her did at the same time.
WACK!! Ginny tossed her foot to her right, with a steady force, into Malfoy's soft groin. And Draco pointed out his elbow and jammed it smack- jab into Ginny's tender breast. Both teenagers howled in pain.
Draco had never been so insulted! No one was allowed to touch him ANYWHERE he did not wish to be touched. His area was throbbing madly in pain. 'I may not be able to re-produce properly because of this annoying bitch.' He looked over to his left, Ginny wasn't there.
The goal post was only a yard in front of him for a second and when he passed it he whipped around in time to see Ginny pass through the middle ring, clutching her right boob.
She returned her hands back onto her boom handle and flew towards Draco, head hung low. Malfoy had won. Ginny was to flash the entire student body, showing her bruised right breast.
Ginny hovered next to Malfoy for what felt like days. She didn't want to look at him, to see him smirking triumphantly at her, to make her feel like the loser she was. When the chirps of the birds became annoying, the sweat on her hands increased, her heat strokes returned, and her eyes started to water from the pain in her chest, she looked up, at Draco.
He wasn't smirking. He wasn't even giving her a disgusted face. On the contrary, he had no sign of life at all.
"What's wrong, Malfoy?" This was just so weird, what is up with this boy? Why isn't he being the prick he's destined to be?
He held his breath until his lungs threatened to pop. Draco opened his mouth and released his compressed air, then took a large amount of fresh air in. He did this several times until Weasley's face turned bored. "I didn't know a Gryffindor had it in them, or a Weasley for that matter." Silence. He continued, "To kick someone like that to win. You must really hate me."
This was not the Draco Malfoy she had grown to despise. With a lock of white-blonde hair falling to his nose and a pathetic glint in his silver eyes, he looked like an abandoned child. Ginny's heart clenched. "I don't hate you that much, Malfoy. I'm just not looking forward to showing off my body to the school." Ginny watched as Draco looked up into her eyes.
Ginny's face was beat red, not from embarrassment as usual, but from exhaustion. Her hair was clumped up at the top and shrewd around her small face. She looked like she'd been through hell, but still managed to be lovely. Draco stared. "You don't have to do that." He remembered who he was again and tried to recover. "You'd blind everyone if you showed any revealing parts." 'Whew, close one!'
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to draw in a steady pace of breath. "Then what do I have to do?" She hoped he'd get on with it, all she wished to do was land and get a drink of water.
Draco didn't have the slightest clue. That is totally un-Malfoy-like. He watched as Ginny massaged her breast again. "Hurts?" He meant to apologize but realized he had never done that before.
"Yes, it hurts." Ginny rolled her eyes and waited for her punishment. "Carry on."
Draco had the strangest desire to reach out and rub both of Ginny's breasts. He snapped his head away from her chest. 'What was I thinking?! Gross!' He averted his eyes back to Ginny's. He knew what he was about to do and carried on before he changed his mind.
Draco took Ginny's shoulders in his hands and ran them down her arm, stopping at her waist. "Are you nervous?" He had a maniac glint in his eyes.
Ginny swallowed. Normally, she'd protest right away but she felt so weak, so nauseous, so completely tired. And Draco looked so devilishly innocent, like a child who just discovered he could kill ants with a magnifying glass. "Some punishment." She mumbled, but Malfoy heard and gave his famous smirk.
Draco ran his hands back up to Virginia's breasts. He cupped them in his hands and was pleasantly surprised to find they were larger than they looked. Ginny took a gasp of air, "Oh." She hadn't been expecting this.
Draco flicked his fingers over her upper body, steadily circling what he could feel of her nipples through the fabric. Ginny's eyes bugged out and she bit hard on her tongue not to moan.
Malfoy became concerned that this girl was too tired to take on such physical contact. Her breathing was more staggered than before. He picked up his right hand from her breast and laid it gently on her cheek. He traced her pink lips with his thumb pad. Then so slowly and carefully, he leaned his head forward. More locks of blonde fell to his forehead. He lifted her chin and drove into a warm kiss.
Ginny gave a gasp that wanted to escape for a long while in the back of her throat. Draco tasted like vanilla, smelled like vanilla, and his touch was smooth like vanilla. She wasn't aware that he was capable of being so tender. He held her like a fragile flower. She let her eyes close when she noticed Draco wasn't going to pull away. But never remembered opening her eyes again.
Draco was in heaven. He didn't know how eager he was to touch Ginny like this until he was doing it. He felt a vibration in his lips caused by her gasp. He pulled closer to her on his broom. She was so warm. Draco licked her lips but she didn't respond. He opened his eyes and pulled gently away from her. Ginny's eyes remained shut and her body was limp.
"Weeeasleeey." Draco rolled his eyes, and waved his hand in front of her face. He knew he was a good kisser and attractive but to be totally knocked out after one kiss was ridiculous. "It's over!" He nudged the girl in the shoulder; MISTAKE!
Ginny went rolling off her broom and began plunging strait for the ground, unconscious.
***
Night fell like a bird that had been shot out of the expanding sky. There was terrible and irking clouds roaming over the Hogwarts castle. They looked ready to spit fiery blood, instead of the usual cats and dogs.
Ron sat in the library. No, Ron was sitting in the library with his head on a pile of books and his arms carelessly thrown on the table. He had been studying all day long with his girlfriend and now that it was dark outside he only wanted to dose off into a non-studying dream with no incantations, potion ingredients, wild beasts, or furry plants. He'd prefer a dreamless sleep very much.
Hermione would allow it since it was night, but the strange weather made her think better. "Ron." No answer. "Ronnikins?" Nothing. "RONALD WEASLEY!"
"WHAT, MUM?" Ron picked his head off the Wild Beasts and Where to Find Them book, to meet his sleepy eyes with Hermione. "What is it Hermione? Are we finished studying?"
"I told you, you didn't have to come with me. I said I'd be here all day." Hermione had urged Ron not to follow along with her to the library. He'd be overly bored and she'd feel overly guilty for his unhappiness. But follow he did. He never knew was best for him, but she enjoyed his company. "Look out this window, quick!"
Ron did as she said, dragging his numb feet behind him. He peered out the window. There wasn't any sign of stars or the moon. The sky was covered in black clouds. Ron looked to the ground but couldn't see any grass. It seemed the clouds covered everywhere, like thick, deep fog. "What is that?"
"I read about it in a book once." This was the exact answer Ron expected to hear. She always 'read about it in a book,' it was one of the reasons he was amazed with her, although he'd never admit it. "I remember that it's dark magic, although it could just be the weather acting strangely."
"What sort of dark magic?" Ron still looked out the window.
"It's dark magic that can only be created with a group of wizards and witches. Four to be exact. If I remember correctly," Ron knew she remembered just fine, "each witch and wizard stands forming a square, one for north, one for south, one east, and one west." Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "They say a spell, each spells different, and in the middle of the square they made, a cloud forms.
"The cloud grows bigger and bigger after time. The first night--the same night--it will only cause a regular thunderstorm. Remember the first day here? Remember there was a storm?" Ron nodded. "Then time will pass and the cloud will grow even more. I know there's something that happens before its final night living, but I just can't remember." Time passed and Ron grew impatient.
"Well then what happens on the 'final night living?'"
"By that time, the cloud will be massive and very thick. From it, it will rain exactly seven hundred billion drops of blood every half-hour. The blood comes from all the people who have been killed in the last fifty years. The rain will only stop when the blood runs out."
"This is scary, Hermione. Do you think this is what it is?" Ron looked at Hermione. She was still gazing out the window as she continued.
"I don't think we have to worry. I could have read all of that in a book of myths, I think I did actually." Her face turned brighter. "Yes, I remember now, it was a book of myths. This must be just an ordinary fog." She smiled and gathered her books. "Lets get going."
Ron sighed and looked out the window again. He moved slowly away to follow his girlfriend out the door.
Halfway to the Gryffindor common room, Colin Creevey jumped in Ron's path. He looked perky and excited as usual.
"Ron, Ron! Did you hear?" Colin waved his arms in excitement.
"Hear what, Colin?" Ron rolled his eyes.
"Your sister Ginny, she-"
"What? What about Ginny? Is she alright?" Ever since Ron's second year in the Chamber of Secrets, Ron had been even more protective of his baby sister. He never wanted anything bad to happen to her again.
"She's fine. She's in the hospital wing, I saw her. I heard she fell from her broom!" Colin's eyes bugged out as if this was an amazing stunt. "I couldn't get a picture though, Malfoy was pushing me out of the way."
"MALFOY? What was Malfoy doing there? Is Ginny okay, Colin?" Ron grabbed Colin's collar, looking him square in the eye. He had to ignore Hermione's attempt at pulling him off Colin before he'd strangle him.
"She's fine!" Colin squeaked out. "I don't know why Malfoy was there, but he seemed concerned."
Ron dropped Colin free. He turned and ran towards the infirmary, not wasting any time. Hermione and Colin followed close behind.
***
A/N: That's chapter six. If you've been reading my story from the first day please re-read the first chapter. I've done it over and changed a whole lot; in my opinion, for the better.
Please review, I love them!
Do you think the chapters are too long? Too short? Just right?
Do you like the pairings? Harry and Brooke, Ginny and Draco, Ron and Hermione.
Is the plot too confusing?
Do you like my new character, Brooke?
You don't have to answer my questions, but please leave a review :-)
P.S.- The song Tiny Dancer is by Elton John, not mine!
Maleficus, meaning evil-doer. Maleficent, harmful or evil in intent or effect. Mal foi, "bad faith."
Lucifer, the Devil.
Narcissus, vain, in Greek myth he fell in love with himself and drowned in a river while admiring his own reflection.
Draco, "dragon" and "snake."
Dragaon- From the Latin Draco. Symbol of many real and fictional kings and of destruction. Some heroes discover dragons are misunderstood. Though they can be frightening, they can also be benevolent. Dragons are feared because of their appearance. It is harmless in the way of poison, but poison is not necessary for it to cause death because it kills whatever it has entangled in its folds. They're not always enemies of humans; they're benevolent-though sometimes bossy. Most important, it is a symbol of leadership. The blood of a dragon is also magical. "To kill a dragon is to become king."
***
Chapter 6.
The middle of October came with a whoosh of spiced air and fallen leaves before any of the Hogwarts houses realized. The days leading to now weren't filled with much excitement for Harry; mostly filled with homework, Quidditch practices, avoiding Ron, nodding and agreeing with whatever Hermione says, and eyeing Brooke when she wasn't looking.
But now Harry was bored sitting in the common room with nothing to do. He had finished all his homework and he didn't have to meet his Quidditch team for another four hours. Harry picked himself off the warm sofa facing a dancing fire. He decided to take a walk around the castle, maybe find someone to occupy his time.
This had been a mistake.
"Oh Harry! Where are you going?" A soprano voice called to his back. Harry turned to face his ex-girlfriend, Cho Chang.
Cho was obviously heading to the library, for she held tons of blue books in her arms. "I'm just taking a walk, so I'll-er-see you later?" He didn't intend for his voice to crack.
"Alright." Cho turned a bit then faced Harry again. "Are you and Ron friends again?"
This was personal. Harry hadn't talked to Cho since the first day of classes, and to say that it didn't go too well would be an understatement. "No, we're not. I really have to be going."
"I thought you were just walking around." Cho raised one brow.
"Well I am but-er-I just remembered I-er-have to be going to...to" Harry was obviously horrible at lying. "To do some things." He turned from her, dashing back to the safety of his common room when...SMACK!
"WHAT IN MERLIN! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU-uh-you...Harry?"
There was Brooke. Brooke, Brooke, Brooke. Harry had run smack-dab into BROOKE. She started to blush and Harry helped her back to her feet.
"Always nice running into you." 'Wow, that was so lame.' Thought Harry. Harry looked up and locked eyes with her. She had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. They gave her so much personality.
Brooke smiled her fascinating way and began to pick up what had dropped from her shopping bag when she ran into Boy Wonder.
'He is so fucking good-looking.' Brooke thought while on the floor. Harry bent down to help and Brooke caught a peak at his bottom. Perfect. She danced her eyes to Harry's chest. Perfect. Following to his shoulders. Perfect. Then to his neck. Perfect. And finally to his face. Perfect, perfect, PERFECT. She had never compared that word to one guy in such a short time, if at all.
"Where are you going with these weird shoes?" Harry held up black, high- heeled footwear with dirt marks across the toe part and metal plates on the sole.
"Those are tap shoes, Harry. And these are jazz shoes, and these are ballet slippers." Brooke pointed to a pair of worn, used-to-be-black shoes with thick dark plastic soles by the heel and toes, then to pointy, fresh pink slippers with long matching ribbon coming from where the ankle would be.
Harry remembered watching a ballet program when he was about eight, over his Aunt's shoulder. He thought they looked so beautiful: high on their toes, with their hair in buns, and lace skirts billowing when they turned.
"You dance?" Was all Harry could say in response as they got to their feet.
"I've been dancing since I was seven until about a year ago. I was on my way to practice when I bumped into you." Brooke smiled again.
"Where are you going to practice?"
She subconsciously bit her lip, "Good question; I have no idea. I was going to try to find an empty classroom, but I wouldn't have music."
"Oh." Harry bit his lip too. Could he trust her? 'YES!' Screamed a voice in his head. "C'mere."
"Oh no, not another one of your room surprises!" Said Brooke, although she walked along as Harry tugged at her sleeve.
Up, up, up. Staircase after staircase, step after step. When they reached a point where Brooke wondered if she should tell Harry she was going to turn back, they came to a stop.
"Here we are." Harry turned, letting Brooke look at his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. "Seventh floor opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls." He pointed to the tapestry.
"Well this is almost as wonderful as the Great Hall." Brooke rolled her eyes.
"Its better!" Apparently he didn't notice the sarcasm. 'How cute!' Harry ran his fingers through his disastrous hair, making it worse. "I need you to concentrate hard on a wizard dance studio while walking past this bit of wall three times; I'll do the same."
Brooke didn't understand this boy, he was so different. Harry stole her hand and pulled her into a walk past the wall.
'We need a place for us to dance...' She thought. "Just give us a place to practice...somewhere big, roomy, and with lots of mirrors.' Brooke felt stupid, but continued none the less. 'With music and bright lights.'
They passed the wall a second time and Brooke looked up at Harry, who had his eyes screwed shut.
"Harry!" Brooke came to a halt after the third walk past.
Two glossy white doors had appeared in the wall. Brooke was dumbfounded, her expression made Harry smirk; yes, smirk. 'Just when I thought he couldn't get any cuter.'
Harry turned the brass knob and flexed the door open a small crack. He waited for Brooke to make the first entrance.
The room was magnificent. The walls stretched high with mirrors in place of paint on three walls, the fourth was occupied of a painting of a ballerina in a dark green dress, studded with charmed sparkles. A boy in a blue suit was holding her up in the air. The picture didn't move an inch besides the glitter on the girl's dress.
"That was my idea." Harry said, referring to the picture. In front of the painted dancers, on the floor, were two rows of uncomfortable looking chairs. To the right of the chairs was a funny looking thing; it was small, black, had numerous buttons and numbers, and two metal screens.
"Wha's that?" Brooke pointed to the 'funny looking thing.'
"Don't you know?" Harry smirked for a second time. "It's a boom box." He moved to the so-called 'boom box' and pressed on a button and it magically played music; bad music.
"Never seen that before, it's like magic!" Harry laughed. "What's so funny, Potter?"
"Nothing, nothing! It's just that it's a muggle thing, it's anything but magic."
"Oh, I see; well play a different song, this one's giving me a headache." The music blasted a black rapper who cursed and said 'nigga' a lot.
Harry turned a knob-how he knew which to touch-God only knows. Every song sounded the same. "Sorry, I can't find any good stations."
Brooke decided against asking him what a 'stations' was. "Then pick your own song!"
"Huh?"
"Oh lady, you can't pick your own song with this muggle crap, can you?" Brooke was always amazed at how muggles ever got along daily. "TINY DANCER!"
'What in the name of Merlin did she just screech?' Harry wondered as he looked to the smiling girl. All at once, light piano music filled the room from the walls, floor, and ceiling. 'Now this is what I call surround sound!'
Brooke snapped her fingers for his attention; she'd been asking the same question twice. "Should I do jazz, hip hop, tap, or ballet?"
"WHAT?!?" Harry shouted, startled from being out of his trance. "Oh-um- could you do ballet? I really would like to see that." Brooke nodded and reached for her bag. She pulled her pale pink slippers from it and glided her feet into them, then tied the lace in a criss-cross form up her leg in skin colored tights. "This is how our world listens to music, I suppose?"
"Yes, this is how the proper ones listen to their songs...but I have an interest in some muggle music. Like this song for example." The same song was continuously playing and Harry listened to the words...they were lovely.
"RESTART!" Brooke screamed into the tower again and the music started from the beginning. Harry was amazed a second time. "Hogwarts can't have this sort of music play here, I'm surprised it worked, otherwise we'd be stuck with your excuse for a player." Harry was still looking at the walls as if he'd find a secret speaker. "What are you doing? Sit down." It wasn't a command; it sounded like she was amused.
Harry sat just before Elton John's voice blended into the piano.
'Blue jean baby, LA lady, seamstress for the band. Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man. Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand.'
The floor turned into sand, although it remained a wooden patch under Brooke's feet. She stood on her pointed shoes and pranced like a small girl around the room, although elegantly and stunningly. The mirrors turned a light blue.
'Now she's in me, always with me. Tiny dancer in my hand.'
Brooke gained speed across the room and did a tremendous leap in the air. Her skirt billowed around her and some more platinum blond strands fell from her bun. She looked almost like the ballerina Harry saw on TV that one time, only even more exquisite and graceful.
The beat of the piano picked up and was joined with more instruments. Brooke brought her arms above her head and did quick turns called pirouettes across the 'sand'.
'Jesus freaks, out in the street, Handing tickets out for God. Turning back, she just laughs, The boulevard is not that bad'
Brooke stopped spinning to look at Harry. His eyes were so green. He had a sort of majesty she'd never seen before; even with his mouth hanging open and his cheeks flushed. Brooke smiled with her tongue stuck small between her teeth.
She swung her arms to her left and did a quick five step: right, left, right, right, left and flew from the patch of wood, twirling her legs so her body faced opposite and lading smartly on both feet. "That's a tourjette." She informed the dark haired boy who only nodded, eyes wide and expectant.
'Piano man, he makes his stand, In the auditorium. Looking on, she sings the songs, The words she knows, the tune she hums.'
Brooke went into a frenzy of twirls on one toe and then into a fast spin in the air. She looked a little out of breath but remained smiling. The girl went into a laying position on her stomach and slowly picked her right leg into the empty air and back, back, back over her head; causing the other leg to follow. Harry almost ran from his seat to help her, but she pushed her arms from the floor and did a delicate flip, landing back upright on both feet. She smiled even wider after getting a look at Harry.
But oh, how it feels so real, Lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can't hear me, When I say softly, slowly.
Brooke became a part of the music then; she was the dancer in the song. She did every spin in beat with the piano, every step in turn with the throbbing base, and every swish of her skirt made her ever so much more enticing. 'Softly, slowly' she sang as she walked towards Harry. She cupped his chin in her hands and came oh so close. They were dreadfully close-then again-not so dreadfully. He liked it! He wanted to close the space; he wanted to touch his lips with her plushed red ones, to be her boyfriend. But she left him when the music picked up again. 'Bloody tease!'
'Hold me closer tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen, You had a busy day today.'
This was her finale. She twirled, ran, spun her arms, bent and straitened her legs, snapped her head around to keep eye contact with Harry, and even did a flip. Her face was flushed dark but she didn't look tired except for that, she kept that fantastic smile in place. With every spin and run, a waft of air grazed Harry, it was Brooke; or at least her sent. It smelled fresh, like steam when you step out of a hot shower, and like a tinge of cut lemon, and something else; something so-well-Brooke.
'Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band. Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man. Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand. And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand.'
Brooke slowed her dance movements. She wasn't aggressive in dancing anymore, she looked like a swan now (cliché as it is) and she walked on tiptoes towards Harry. Her eyes never left his on the walk; they were big and shining, gold and wanting. 'And now she's in me,' Brooke made it the distance and kneeled at Harry's feet. Her breath was fast and heaving, her face was featherly moist, and most of her hair fell in her eyes and around her high cheekbones. 'Always with me,' Harry's breath tugged in his throat, he forgot how to breathe! Brooke pushed herself up on her knees, her nose was level with his chin. She could tell Harry was nervous and she liked that. 'Tiny dancer in my hand.' Brooke closed her eyes and felt Harry take a sharp intake of breath. She didn't have to move to him; he came to her. Their lips met. Harry Potter was kissing Brooke Parkinson so lightly and sweetly.
The skin on Brooke's lips was damp while Harry's was dry. Harry's thoughts fluttered away from him and all he could think about was this gorgeous ballerina was kissing him. All he could imagine was her copper eyes. Three words were on repeat: 'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.' Brooke parted her lips. Was she thinking the same thing? Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Now all his thoughts came to him, now he was back in his world and now he did something he thought was the last thing he'd ever want to do.
Harry stopped and broke the contact with Brooke. She opened her glassy eyes with a questionable mark stuck to her adorable face. "What's wrong, Harry?" She whispered. 'Oh good god, she thought she was doing wrong! Never, ever could she do wrong!'
"Nothing, I just, I was just-uh-I" 'Shit! What the hell is wrong with ME?' Harry took a calming breath. "I just didn't know you really liked me like this."
Brooke tightened her lips together as if she were facing the facts. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I thought you felt the same way." She stood up and took a step away from his chair.
"WHAT? No, no. Don't go anywhere." Harry stood too and reached for Brooke's wrist. "I feel the exact same way, I just thought you didn't and it surprised me that you were the first to make the move because of that."
"Oh." That's all she said and a silence fell the room. "So, did you like the dance?"
What a stupid question, how could he NOT like the dance? "Hell yeah, I did!" With that remark Harry yanked Brooke into his arms and they met lips for the second time. Now, they were hard, fast kisses, needy and wanting. Brooke opened her mouth again but Harry didn't make an entry so Brooke pulled back.
"We should get going." Brooke shrugged, trying desperately hard not to look at Harry for fear she'd change her mind and kiss him again.
"Right." Came his raspy reply and he took her hand (like the same way they came in) and walked with her to the doors.
They didn't need words to communicate as they walked towards the Fat Lady Portrait. Their contact remained in their hands that were still entangled together. Brooke poked her small finger between their hands and tickled Harry's palm, while Harry massaged Brooke's knuckles until they made it the way down.
The question that had been lingering in Harry's mind was soon about to explode, and what a better time to ask then this? "Halloween is coming up soon."
"I haven't celebrated that before." Brooke knew where this was going but decided to play hard to get.
"Oh, well I haven't either before I came to Hogwarts..." This wasn't going where he would have liked. "I was wondering if you had a date for the dance after the feast?"
"Not yet." She smirked, reminding Harry of Draco Malfoy only a lot more feminine and pretty.
"Neither do I." This was taking forever! 'Just ask already!' "Would you like to-"
"Harry!" It was the too familiar high-pitched voice he heard earlier. 'Fuck!'
Cho decided to find Harry again after the display of nervousness he showed when they were talking in the hall not too long ago. 'Who's that blond he's with? She looks too stuck-up for her own good.'
"Cho, what are you doing here?" Harry made a fleeting look to Brooke. There wasn't a trace of jealousy on her face.
"I came looking for you after you ran off, I figured you were too nervous to be around me." Now Brooke looked amused.
"When did he 'run off' from you?" Brooke was speaking to Cho. 'Please don't say anything stupid, Cho,' Harry thought, 'Please!'
"Just about a half hour ago." She turned back to Harry. "I would love to go to the dance with you, Harry." Cho smiled. He hated her smile now, he hated the way she thought she was doing him a favor, he hated the way she flipped her black hair over her shoulder as she walked away. But the thing he hated most was seeing Brooke turn away from him. She ran the opposite direction from Cho; away from the common room, away from Harry; 'The Gryffindor God.'
Why was he labeled such mindless things, 'Boy Wonder, Gryffindor God, The Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Boy, Gryffindor's Knight' when he can't even get the girl he wants to go to a school dance with him?
***
Draco was experiencing things that Malfoy's shouldn't ever, EVER experience. He had been standing at the entrance to the Quidditch field for over twenty minutes starring at the sky.
The blue sky wasn't empty though; a girl was on her speeding broom, practicing dives, turns, and fancy loop-de-loops. Her black robes with scarlet trim blew in rhythm with the wind, Draco observed, and her hair whipped in her face in an angelic way.
Draco held his broomstick in his hand but still didn't make any movement except his gray eyes, (that have made so many girls swoon) followed the delicate girl in the air. She was such a sight to see. She looked like she belonged in the sky as a decoration, like an ornament on a Christmas tree. He didn't have a clue who the girl even was; he could tell she was a Gryffindor because of her robes and he could make out she was-in fact-a girl because of her hair but he couldn't see far enough to catch a look at her face.
It was like mystery game he used to play as a child to Draco. He liked guessing in his mind who the girl may be. 'Millicent? No, no, she's far too large for a broom to carry her so elegantly in the air, plus this girl's a Gryffindor. Granger? Possibly, but I seriously hope it isn't her; I'd have to kill myself for taking an interest in that mudblood bookworm. But it couldn't be, she didn't own a broom and if she did she probably wouldn't be as good a flier as this girl. That Parkinson chick? Brooke? Possibly, that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she owned a broomstick? I don't think its her though, I'd be able to see her blond hair from here and from the looks of this girl's hair; it's dark. So who the hell is it?' Draco squinted as the girl flew into the sun. 'Dark hair, Gryffindor, possibly plays Quidditch...'
"WEASLEY!" He hadn't meant to say her name out loud.
Ginny could recognize that snarl anywhere. She dove from the warmth the sun caste on her and to the ground, meeting her pale-skinned enemy.
"What do I owe the pleasure?" Ginny said sarcastically. If only she hadn't been overwhelmed by Draco's appearance, her question would have been a lot more effective. He had on a dark green button down shirt with the top three buttons undone, showing an unmistakably beautiful chest. His tan khakis where just a centimeter from the dewy grass, perfect as he was, and his un-scorched black boots were reflecting the sun.
"You're making an attempt at flying I see?" Draco hated the way he sounded. All of his sly words seemed to be so vengeful while festering in his head, but as soon as he spoke them they didn't sound so mean, he always thought it was his voice that messed it up; he never did like his voice much. "You better keep practicing, there's no way your pussy Gryffindor team will beat Slytherin."
"We did last year, Malfoy. And I can fly circles around you." Ginny thought about her statement and to her horror, it sounded like a threat. Ginny knew Malfoy was an exceptional flyer, he was fast but he never became 'one' with his broom.
"You can fly circles around me? Is that right, you disgrace to the magical world?" He smirked, flashing the right side of his teeth like some sort of pirate. Ginny wished that she could see Draco smile a true smile. If his smirks were so damn sexy just imagine what his smile must look like!
"That's right." This time Ginny surprised herself because she sounded so confident. Lately, all of her emotions weren't coming across right. When she felt sad, she walked around smiling. In the rare moments she was happy, she would say something vile to the closest unsuspecting person.
"Lets make that a bet, loser has to do one thing that the winner says without complaint." 'What am I saying?' Draco didn't know what he was getting into; it seemed as though his mouth disregarded everything that his brain kept telling it to do.
"Fine, then. From those hoops to the other side of the field and back?" Again, she sounded too confident for her own liking.
"Whatever Weasley, just don't forget to slow down when you approach the hoops, I don't want to be blamed for murder." Draco pushed off the ground and sped towards the end of the field, Ginny close behind.
They stopped in front of the middle hoop. "Ready to lick the bottom of my shoes after I win, Malfoy?" Draco was amused on the inside that the youngest Weasley was capable of being witty.
"Only if you're ready to flash the entire Great Hall at dinner." Ginny's face turned red, much to Draco's delight.
"On the count of three." Ginny set her eyes on the opposite goal hoops.
"One." Draco looked at Ginny's determined face.
"Two." Ginny almost whispered. Draco faced forward.
"THREE!" They both yelled together.
They both took off together without a hesitant moment to waste. Ginny felt the cool air cut into her face and chap her lips. She hated flying fast like this; she was the Chaser for Gryffindor, not Seeker (although she wasn't rotten at that either) like Malfoy. She liked to feel more in control of her broom, other than speeding off at an undecided destination; it almost made her sick.
Draco on the other hand, was relaxed on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. He was comfortable with flying so fast that he became a blur to any watchers. He was approaching the other end of the field and figured he should slow down to turn soon. He looked at Virginia but she kept at the same speed. 'Stupid git.' Draco was very close to the poles now; he let his top speed slow. Ginny slowed along with him, she knew what she was doing, and she wouldn't let him go faster than her the slightest bit.
Ginny's palms grew sweatier by the minute, causing her grip on the broom to become slick. Her arms and the back of her neck broke out in small goose bumps, followed by a shock wave of heat flowing from her pulse points. She was falling behind Draco, slowly but surly. Flashing her breasts to all of her classmates certainly wasn't on her to-do list. Ginny narrowed her brown eyes on the middle hoop and sped up with Malfoy. They were neck in neck.
Closer, closer, closer. The end of the field was approaching at an exhausting rate. Draco was determined to win; to even be in a tie with a Weasley didn't satisfy him one ounce. He did the only thing he could think of to insure his win; after all they didn't set any rules.
Ginny was yards away from the three 'bubble-wand-looking' hoops and she still wasn't able to out do Malfoy. If they were tied they'd probably have a re-match, and she wouldn't be able to go through this again, all this pressure. She did a very Slytherin thing, the very thing that the Slytherin beside her did at the same time.
WACK!! Ginny tossed her foot to her right, with a steady force, into Malfoy's soft groin. And Draco pointed out his elbow and jammed it smack- jab into Ginny's tender breast. Both teenagers howled in pain.
Draco had never been so insulted! No one was allowed to touch him ANYWHERE he did not wish to be touched. His area was throbbing madly in pain. 'I may not be able to re-produce properly because of this annoying bitch.' He looked over to his left, Ginny wasn't there.
The goal post was only a yard in front of him for a second and when he passed it he whipped around in time to see Ginny pass through the middle ring, clutching her right boob.
She returned her hands back onto her boom handle and flew towards Draco, head hung low. Malfoy had won. Ginny was to flash the entire student body, showing her bruised right breast.
Ginny hovered next to Malfoy for what felt like days. She didn't want to look at him, to see him smirking triumphantly at her, to make her feel like the loser she was. When the chirps of the birds became annoying, the sweat on her hands increased, her heat strokes returned, and her eyes started to water from the pain in her chest, she looked up, at Draco.
He wasn't smirking. He wasn't even giving her a disgusted face. On the contrary, he had no sign of life at all.
"What's wrong, Malfoy?" This was just so weird, what is up with this boy? Why isn't he being the prick he's destined to be?
He held his breath until his lungs threatened to pop. Draco opened his mouth and released his compressed air, then took a large amount of fresh air in. He did this several times until Weasley's face turned bored. "I didn't know a Gryffindor had it in them, or a Weasley for that matter." Silence. He continued, "To kick someone like that to win. You must really hate me."
This was not the Draco Malfoy she had grown to despise. With a lock of white-blonde hair falling to his nose and a pathetic glint in his silver eyes, he looked like an abandoned child. Ginny's heart clenched. "I don't hate you that much, Malfoy. I'm just not looking forward to showing off my body to the school." Ginny watched as Draco looked up into her eyes.
Ginny's face was beat red, not from embarrassment as usual, but from exhaustion. Her hair was clumped up at the top and shrewd around her small face. She looked like she'd been through hell, but still managed to be lovely. Draco stared. "You don't have to do that." He remembered who he was again and tried to recover. "You'd blind everyone if you showed any revealing parts." 'Whew, close one!'
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to draw in a steady pace of breath. "Then what do I have to do?" She hoped he'd get on with it, all she wished to do was land and get a drink of water.
Draco didn't have the slightest clue. That is totally un-Malfoy-like. He watched as Ginny massaged her breast again. "Hurts?" He meant to apologize but realized he had never done that before.
"Yes, it hurts." Ginny rolled her eyes and waited for her punishment. "Carry on."
Draco had the strangest desire to reach out and rub both of Ginny's breasts. He snapped his head away from her chest. 'What was I thinking?! Gross!' He averted his eyes back to Ginny's. He knew what he was about to do and carried on before he changed his mind.
Draco took Ginny's shoulders in his hands and ran them down her arm, stopping at her waist. "Are you nervous?" He had a maniac glint in his eyes.
Ginny swallowed. Normally, she'd protest right away but she felt so weak, so nauseous, so completely tired. And Draco looked so devilishly innocent, like a child who just discovered he could kill ants with a magnifying glass. "Some punishment." She mumbled, but Malfoy heard and gave his famous smirk.
Draco ran his hands back up to Virginia's breasts. He cupped them in his hands and was pleasantly surprised to find they were larger than they looked. Ginny took a gasp of air, "Oh." She hadn't been expecting this.
Draco flicked his fingers over her upper body, steadily circling what he could feel of her nipples through the fabric. Ginny's eyes bugged out and she bit hard on her tongue not to moan.
Malfoy became concerned that this girl was too tired to take on such physical contact. Her breathing was more staggered than before. He picked up his right hand from her breast and laid it gently on her cheek. He traced her pink lips with his thumb pad. Then so slowly and carefully, he leaned his head forward. More locks of blonde fell to his forehead. He lifted her chin and drove into a warm kiss.
Ginny gave a gasp that wanted to escape for a long while in the back of her throat. Draco tasted like vanilla, smelled like vanilla, and his touch was smooth like vanilla. She wasn't aware that he was capable of being so tender. He held her like a fragile flower. She let her eyes close when she noticed Draco wasn't going to pull away. But never remembered opening her eyes again.
Draco was in heaven. He didn't know how eager he was to touch Ginny like this until he was doing it. He felt a vibration in his lips caused by her gasp. He pulled closer to her on his broom. She was so warm. Draco licked her lips but she didn't respond. He opened his eyes and pulled gently away from her. Ginny's eyes remained shut and her body was limp.
"Weeeasleeey." Draco rolled his eyes, and waved his hand in front of her face. He knew he was a good kisser and attractive but to be totally knocked out after one kiss was ridiculous. "It's over!" He nudged the girl in the shoulder; MISTAKE!
Ginny went rolling off her broom and began plunging strait for the ground, unconscious.
***
Night fell like a bird that had been shot out of the expanding sky. There was terrible and irking clouds roaming over the Hogwarts castle. They looked ready to spit fiery blood, instead of the usual cats and dogs.
Ron sat in the library. No, Ron was sitting in the library with his head on a pile of books and his arms carelessly thrown on the table. He had been studying all day long with his girlfriend and now that it was dark outside he only wanted to dose off into a non-studying dream with no incantations, potion ingredients, wild beasts, or furry plants. He'd prefer a dreamless sleep very much.
Hermione would allow it since it was night, but the strange weather made her think better. "Ron." No answer. "Ronnikins?" Nothing. "RONALD WEASLEY!"
"WHAT, MUM?" Ron picked his head off the Wild Beasts and Where to Find Them book, to meet his sleepy eyes with Hermione. "What is it Hermione? Are we finished studying?"
"I told you, you didn't have to come with me. I said I'd be here all day." Hermione had urged Ron not to follow along with her to the library. He'd be overly bored and she'd feel overly guilty for his unhappiness. But follow he did. He never knew was best for him, but she enjoyed his company. "Look out this window, quick!"
Ron did as she said, dragging his numb feet behind him. He peered out the window. There wasn't any sign of stars or the moon. The sky was covered in black clouds. Ron looked to the ground but couldn't see any grass. It seemed the clouds covered everywhere, like thick, deep fog. "What is that?"
"I read about it in a book once." This was the exact answer Ron expected to hear. She always 'read about it in a book,' it was one of the reasons he was amazed with her, although he'd never admit it. "I remember that it's dark magic, although it could just be the weather acting strangely."
"What sort of dark magic?" Ron still looked out the window.
"It's dark magic that can only be created with a group of wizards and witches. Four to be exact. If I remember correctly," Ron knew she remembered just fine, "each witch and wizard stands forming a square, one for north, one for south, one east, and one west." Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "They say a spell, each spells different, and in the middle of the square they made, a cloud forms.
"The cloud grows bigger and bigger after time. The first night--the same night--it will only cause a regular thunderstorm. Remember the first day here? Remember there was a storm?" Ron nodded. "Then time will pass and the cloud will grow even more. I know there's something that happens before its final night living, but I just can't remember." Time passed and Ron grew impatient.
"Well then what happens on the 'final night living?'"
"By that time, the cloud will be massive and very thick. From it, it will rain exactly seven hundred billion drops of blood every half-hour. The blood comes from all the people who have been killed in the last fifty years. The rain will only stop when the blood runs out."
"This is scary, Hermione. Do you think this is what it is?" Ron looked at Hermione. She was still gazing out the window as she continued.
"I don't think we have to worry. I could have read all of that in a book of myths, I think I did actually." Her face turned brighter. "Yes, I remember now, it was a book of myths. This must be just an ordinary fog." She smiled and gathered her books. "Lets get going."
Ron sighed and looked out the window again. He moved slowly away to follow his girlfriend out the door.
Halfway to the Gryffindor common room, Colin Creevey jumped in Ron's path. He looked perky and excited as usual.
"Ron, Ron! Did you hear?" Colin waved his arms in excitement.
"Hear what, Colin?" Ron rolled his eyes.
"Your sister Ginny, she-"
"What? What about Ginny? Is she alright?" Ever since Ron's second year in the Chamber of Secrets, Ron had been even more protective of his baby sister. He never wanted anything bad to happen to her again.
"She's fine. She's in the hospital wing, I saw her. I heard she fell from her broom!" Colin's eyes bugged out as if this was an amazing stunt. "I couldn't get a picture though, Malfoy was pushing me out of the way."
"MALFOY? What was Malfoy doing there? Is Ginny okay, Colin?" Ron grabbed Colin's collar, looking him square in the eye. He had to ignore Hermione's attempt at pulling him off Colin before he'd strangle him.
"She's fine!" Colin squeaked out. "I don't know why Malfoy was there, but he seemed concerned."
Ron dropped Colin free. He turned and ran towards the infirmary, not wasting any time. Hermione and Colin followed close behind.
***
A/N: That's chapter six. If you've been reading my story from the first day please re-read the first chapter. I've done it over and changed a whole lot; in my opinion, for the better.
Please review, I love them!
Do you think the chapters are too long? Too short? Just right?
Do you like the pairings? Harry and Brooke, Ginny and Draco, Ron and Hermione.
Is the plot too confusing?
Do you like my new character, Brooke?
You don't have to answer my questions, but please leave a review :-)
P.S.- The song Tiny Dancer is by Elton John, not mine!