An obnoxiously loud sound from outside my window pulled me from sleep, and I opened one sleep-encrusted eye, followed by the other, to find the source of the rudeness.
Slowly, I sat up, relishing in the fact that I was no longer hungover – which had been a rare occurrence indeed over the holidays – and wasn't in any pain, and padded over to the open window.
At once I spotted the source of my call to early wakefulness; a raven, perched on the stone wall of the back yard, was cawing in delight at the bits of food leftover on the back lawn from our dinner last night. Wanting desperately to hex the vile creature, but not being permitted to use magic outside of school, I grumbled and pulled my dressing gown around my shoulders, before crossing the hall to the bathroom.
Once inside the small chamber, I locked the door, shed my clothes, and stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water turn my skin a pale scarlet as usual in the morning. I lathered shampoo into my hair, rinsed it out, smoothed conditioner into my shoulder length curls, and rinsed that out as well. I let the water beat a tender massage over my skin for a little while longer, before turning off the tap and stepping out of the steamy shower stall.
Wrapping a towel tight around my body, I began the long and arduous process of waxing my legs. When that task was done, and the skin of my limbs was a lovely, tingling pink, I rinsed the excess wax from my legs, using a lovely exfoliating body scrub from some muggle line known as Clinique.
Twenty minutes later, I left the bathroom, legs silky smooth, hair tied up in a simple but classic bun, loose curls hanging down by my cheeks, framing my face. I had gone for an elegant look that I had seen in muggle magazines, one that was only usually seen around the beginning of the year, when all of those odd awards shows popped up. Makeup, demure and natural, tinted my eyes and cheeks, and I had only to wait for breakfast and teeth- brushing to be over before I applied lipstick.
Making a stop at my bedroom to drop off my shower kit, I trotted downstairs in slippers and dressing gown, a delighted smile on my face. I would be on the train to school soon, would be pissing off the entire school soon, and would be back in the presence of the person most suited to my goals. These goals being, of course, to piss off everyone remotely close to me.
Once in the kitchen, which was blessedly deserted, I wove through the mass of clutter that clung to the wooden floorboards, stopped at the muggle refrigerator, pulled out a carton of milk, a banana, a dozen strawberries, and exactly four raspberries. Following that, I dropped the small bundle of ingredients on the counter, padded over to the freezer, and removed from the ice-encrusted contents a container of orange sorbet, and a bag of frozen peaches.
Carting the lot over to the counter where I had dropped the other ingredients for my breakfast, I made a few precise movements – namely plugging in the muggle blender, pouring a cup and a half of milk into the glass part of the blender, adding three scoops of sorbet, and turning the thing on. A lovely, headache-inducing sound greeted my actions, and I let the whirring continue for twenty-two more seconds, before stopping the mixer and throwing in my raspberries, strawberries, banana, and seven peach slices.
Again, the machine started to whir, and I grinned devilishly at the thumping coming from upstairs as the sounds of my breakfast being made woke the rest of the house. Knowing I had little time before the kitchen was bustling with people, I scurried over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a rather generous amount into the thick substance sitting innocently in the blender, and whirled the whole lot together again.
At last, the delicate process was finished, and I poured my breakfast into a large glass, grabbed a muggle invention known as a straw, stuck it into the pink smoothie, and began cleaning up my mess.
First to be replaced was the vodka, only after I had refilled the bottle with water, so that the clear liquid reached the line of black marker on the bottle. It was tricky, you see, to make my breakfast and be able to incorporate any type of liquor into it; I had to add the right ingredients that would mask both smell and taste, so that should someone happen to drink or smell my smoothie, I wouldn't be called on my drinking of alcohol at dawn.
Smirking, knowing that I could probably be considered as a raging alcoholic, if anyone knew about the various ways I snuck the wonderful substance into parts of my life that probably shouldn't have anything to do with it – like breakfast – I finished cleaning out the blender, dried it out, and was sitting comfortably at the table, drinking my breakfast, when my mother entered the kitchen.
"Morning mum," I said, smiling at my exhausted looking parent.
"Good morning, Ginny. You're rather chipper for such an early hour..." My mother replied with a yawn, flicking her wand at the coffee maker and taking a seat opposite me at the kitchen table.
"I can't help it," I grinned, though for reasons I wasn't about to tell my mother, "it's almost time to go back to Hogwarts..."
"What's this? Ginny... excited about going back to school?" That was Percy's voice, as he trotted into the kitchen like a pompous puppy dog, and dropped into the seat beside mum.
"Yes, I'm excited about going back to school."
"Why?"
God he's so infuriating... Punch him, will you, Gin?
Drawing on my considerable acting skills, I smiled sweetly at my brother, and shrugged, before taking a sip of my vodka laced smoothie and answering him.
"I've got NEWT level courses, I'm a Prefect, and I'm on the Quidditch team. It's going to be a wonderful year..."
Percy smiled and nodded his head in arrogant acknowledgement that I was apparently just like him when I was at school, before rising and pouring he and mum each a cup of steaming coffee.
Soon enough, as the morning grew steadily brighter, the kitchen filled with the rest of my family, not to mention Harry and Hermione. They all had their pancakes, waffles, sausages and toast for breakfast, while I finished off my liquor-infused smoothie before excusing myself – under the suspicious glares of the Dream Team and the twins – and heading back upstairs.
Stifling a yawn, I made my way down the short hallway to my bedroom, and grabbed my toothbrush and lipsticks from my shower kit.
Knowing I was the only person not eating breakfast, I disappeared into the bathroom contentedly, oddly at peace with the fact that, should I need it, I could have the entire floor – namely just the bathroom, my bedroom, and a linen closet – all to myself.
Shrugging slightly, I brushed my teeth slowly, the bristles of the toothbrush scrubbing small circles around my teeth. Spitting out the minty- blue foam that had accumulated in my mouth, I gagged on the bit of sweet mint tasting liquid that slid down my throat.
Coughing, I rinsed off my toothbrush and wiped my mouth, cleaning tiny flecks of blue foam from my mouth with the aid of a blue terry cloth towel. Turning back to the mirror that hung only slightly crooked above the vanity that was for once devoid of cosmetic cases, I examined my reflection staring back at me from the silver sheet.
My eyes were shadowed with a neutral color just a shade darker than my own skin tone, and lined with a soft brown that accentuated the warm brandy of my irises. My cheeks had been tinted with a soft pink, and the freckles that splashed across my nose and cheeks had been softened with the aid of a light concealer. Ponderously, I flicked through the half dozen tubes of lipstick I had brought with me, spotted the one I wanted, and slid the colored cosmetic over my lips.
Sighing softly, I collected my things, and returned to my bedroom, checking my watch as I did so.
Damn! Ten o'clock already! Time certainly flies when you're plotting about the best possible way to piss off your family, and wondering what plans your accomplice has up his sleeve.
I slipped through the partially open door of my room, and closed it solidly behind me. A quick examination of the premises – such as they were – showed no sign of a lurking Boy Wonder, seeing as how he was so keen to see me dress myself – I imagine it's a fetish of his, and I feel sorry for the poor woman who will become his wife – and proceeded to slide into the glove- like garment my darling Draco had sent me.
It wasn't uncomfortably tight, thank Merlin, or I would have suffocated. As it was, I noticed as I looked in the mirror that my chest seemed to have grown, and my hips to have become more streamlined, giving me the coveted hourglass figure that is virtually impossible to attain through natural means. I smirk at my reflection.
The fabric fell in a slightly jagged, artfully torn asymmetrical line from the middle of my left thigh to just below my right knee. The bodice restricted my breathing fairly minimally, although I noted that if I sighed, I felt like I was choking.
Better not sigh, then, Gin; you don't want to ruin this lovely game by dying, now do you?
"Shut up," I muttered to the cheeky party of my brain that sounded rather an uncomfortable lot like Fred and George when they spoke in unison, and re- examined the package Draco had sent me, which I had tossed on my bed upon pulling it and the dress out of my wardrobe.
My suspicions were confirmed, as I pulled out a pair of shoes – strappy silver stilettos – and a silver clutch bag, each of which returned to its normal size upon leaving the confines of the tiny box. Grinning, I pulled on the shoes, enjoying the added two inches to my height.
"GINNY! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE! WE'VE GOT TO GO!" Ron's voice, horribly loud, floated up the staircase and through my closed bedroom door.
I didn't bother to answer, instead examined my reflection once more, grabbed my clutch, tossed the essentials inside – namely lipstick, compact, lip gloss, eyeliner and wallet – and closed the clasp. I curled one hand around the handle of my school trunk, and started the long and laborious process of dragging it down the hallway.
Shit, Gin, this thing's bloody heavy...
At last, I reached the main floor, which was devoid of people – my family already being outside, waiting at the cars supplied by the Ministry. The Ministry hadn't even bothered to lie this time – they wanted Harry alive, and the only way they could ensure that, before he got on the train to school, was by supplying very well guarded vehicles to transport him to the train station.
Proceeding to pull the suitcase through the deserted kitchen and outside, I noticed two things. The first being that there was an incredibly large crowd waiting by the sleek black cars, the second being that the Boy-Who- Should-Have-Died was staring at me. Or gaping, rather.
An easy smirk curled my lips, as a member of the crowd approached and lifted the embossed, worn trunk from the ground as easily as though it were made of cotton fluff, and I sauntered towards my now-scowling family. Or part of my family, rather, as my parents had been called to Order Headquarters – Dumbledore had requested we not stay there this summer, something about safety and top secret plans – and Fred, George, Percy, Bill and Charlie had all gone off to work.
So, unfortunately, it was just the Golden Trio and myself who would be making the long and arduous trip to King's Cross.
"What are you wearing, Ginny?" Ronald, ever overprotective and eager to get slapped round the face.
"It's called a dress, Ronald," I replied, slowly, as though speaking to a child.
"There is no way that's a dress!"
"Granger, I assure you, it is a dress. I wouldn't be wearing it otherwise."
"You're going to go change, Ginny."
"You aren't my mother, Potter. Now. I suggest the three of you go settle yourselves in that car over there, while I take this one, and you can have a nice little discussion about how much of a whore I am, and about how I am in desperate need of a reality check."
Snickering, as they clambered into one of the two waiting cars like obedient puppies, I slid into the other, relishing the solitude.
I could get used to this...
All too soon, thanks to the magically enhanced properties of the vehicles, we arrived at Kings Cross, and I was being escorted into the station, flanked by the two suits who had accompanied me in my, ahem, limousine.
Not surprisingly, I was receiving wonderful death glares from the Trio, who were being escorted by their own entourage – which was larger than mine, considering the fact that Harry Potter, the boy-who-should-have-bloody-well- died-by-now, was present.
I sauntered through the barrier of platform nine and three quarters, still flanked by my personal goons. They were getting kind of irritating, really. I mean, if Voldie wanted to come right out and kill me, he could damn well try, but I was pretty sure he would go after Potter, first.
Now you know how Draco must feel.
Blinking at that thought, I looked around for my 'business associate' and promptly spotted him bidding farewell to his parents. Or mother, rather. His father was nowhere to be seen.
"Going to go say high to your boyfriend?" Potter inquired childishly from behind.
I turned.
"Honestly Potter, I should think you'd be above First Year taunts, by now." I retorted, raising a brow.
"Yes, well, Ginny, we thought you were above Malfoy, but apparently we were wrong."
"Actually, Granger, I think I've always been under him. He's a domineering little snake, that one."
And, smirking at their appalled looks, and Ron's swift fall into shock, I sauntered towards Draco and his mother, dragging my new pets along with me.
"Ah, there you are, pet. I was wondering if you were ever going to make it, or if your family had put you under lock and key. But, now that you're here, I'd like you to meet someone," Draco announced smoothly, upon spotting me.
I turned to Lady Malfoy, who was rather like a female version of her son, barring the more condescending look on her features. Draco just looked... mocking, most of the time.
"Virginia, this is my mother Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, this is the girl I was telling you about, Virginia Weasley."
A charming, if somewhat chill, smile curled the older woman's lips, and I returned it in kind.
Careful, Gin...
"Ms. Weasley. A pleasure to meet you." Her voice, rather like that of her son, was charming, laced with honeyed poison.
"And the same to you, Lady Malfoy," I replied easily, warily.
Draco smirked, bid farewell to his mother, before dragging me off down the platform. My goons followed.
"Draco," I whined in his ear, petulant, "is there any way to get rid of those two?" I gestured behind.
He turned, taking in the Ministry appointed guards who had been trailing behind me like lost puppy dogs. With a slight shake of his head, he motioned me to stop, and sauntered to where the two uniformed men stood, conspicuous in their attempt at looking inconspicuous.
Damn, Gin. Does everyone get lessons in being inconspicuous from the same place?
I wondered, recalling the event in Diagon Alley the previous day.
A few moments later, my blond pet returned, and the two goons disappeared – as much as was possible for them – into the crowd, no doubt seeking out their counterparts.
Draco linked my arm in his, and we strolled through the crowd, our baggage having been already stowed somewhere on the lengthy scarlet steam engine belching black smoke by the side of the platform. The masses of mostly robed figures parted before us, and I rather felt like I was in that muggle story about that old religious coot who parted the sea, to help some impoverished serfs escape, or some such thing.
Shrugging off the thought, I smirked a little at the looks we were receiving. Naturally, from the females, I was receiving glares shot through with envy and jealousy, while the males looked rather disgusted with my choice of companions. Draco, on the other hand, was on the receiving end of many disgustingly lust-filled glances from the girls who were not too busy glaring at me, and looks of respectful contempt from the males.
He pulled me onto the train, a while later, and we went in search of a compartment not full to bursting with irritating prats. Our hunt was rather unsuccessful.
As we were wandering down the train, we were apprehended by none other than Pansy Parkinson and her entourage – namely Blaise Zabini, raven haired beauty, and Millicent Bulstrode, the female equivalent of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle – who seemed quite put out.
"What are you doing here, Weasel?" Parkinson. Never one to come up with a witty... anything, really.
"I happen to be looking for a compartment, wench," I retorted easily.
Parkinson, as well as her entourage, spluttered. I had never really been one to sling about such nasty words – as my mother would call them – so freely.
"Go look down the Gryffindor end. I won't have you polluting our... air... down here." Genius, wasn't she? Pausing to find something that I could pollute.
I raised a brow.
"Trust me, love. You're the pollution. Now, why don't you be a dear, and go find a nice trash can to throw yourself into, and save me the trouble, hmm?"
Zabini fixed me with what I assumed was supposed to be an acid glare, and Bulstrode cracked her knuckles in a gesture that would have any normal girl running for her life. I blinked.
"Come along, pet. We've better things to do." Draco pushed me lightly in the small of my back, and I swayed by the three Slytherins, childishly sticking my tongue out at them as I passed.
A little way down the train, I stopped walking, remembering something I had promised him in my letter. I spun round, having to look up in order to see his face rather than his shoulder, and balanced on my toes, bringing my lips to his.
The first kiss was gentle, little more than a brush of my lips against his own. The second was a little more intense, as he pulled me closer, lifting my chin with his hand. The third – which I hadn't actually intended to give – involved a little tongue, when he nibbled on my bottom lip.
We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and I pulled away slowly, cheeks lightly flushed. I turned towards the sound, as did Draco, to see – what a surprise – the Dream Team attempting to look furious instead of sickened.
"Do you mind? You're in our way." Ooh, Granger was being snotty, was she?
"Go around, mudblood," Draco sneered, and the appropriate smirk curled my lips – though I was still rather disgusted with the term.
The three gaped, and the smallest of shrugs lifted Draco's shoulders. He turned back to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the nearest compartment. Which, surprisingly enough, was empty.
Potter and his entourage were about to follow, when Draco slid shut the compartment door, and sealed it with a well-placed, quickly cast spell. Through the frosted glass, we could see Granger throwing charm after charm at the warded door, in an attempt to get through. I snickered.
"I've a gift for you, pet," he stated, reaching into his pocket.
"Another one?" I queried, raising a brow.
"Of course."
He withdrew a cubical package from a pocket in his robes, and presented it to me with a small flourish. I unwrapped it slowly, pulling at the tissue paper with my index finger, but apparently my toy was a little impatient. He tugged the gift out of my palm, and opened it himself, displaying the contents of the black velvet box with yet another flourish.
I gasped.
"Why?" I was curious, really, as to why he would give me such an expensive gift. We were only playing a game, after all.
"You didn't expect me to give up this chance to make Parkinson exceedingly jealous, did you? In the time I was with her, I gave her nothing more than a pair of pearl earrings." He smirked at the thought.
I took one of the chandelier-style emerald earrings in my palm, and examined it closely.
Shit, Gin! You should've thought of this farce earlier!
"Do you like them?" Draco asked, watching as I slid first the left and then the right earring through my pierced lobes.
He fastened the matching necklace around my neck.
I turned, after the clasp fell securely against the flesh of my neck, and planted a sound kiss on his smirking lips.
Needless to say, we spent the rest of the train ride enjoying the pastime that makes being a teenager so goddamn fun.
A/N: Bah. Long, crap, and boring chapter, but it's almost exam time, and I felt like I had been neglecting you, seeing as how I promised a chapter like a month ago, and it just didn't happen. It's been pretty much the same with my other fics. My most humble apologies, but I'll write my little arse off in a week and a half, since school and graduation will be officially done by then.
Slowly, I sat up, relishing in the fact that I was no longer hungover – which had been a rare occurrence indeed over the holidays – and wasn't in any pain, and padded over to the open window.
At once I spotted the source of my call to early wakefulness; a raven, perched on the stone wall of the back yard, was cawing in delight at the bits of food leftover on the back lawn from our dinner last night. Wanting desperately to hex the vile creature, but not being permitted to use magic outside of school, I grumbled and pulled my dressing gown around my shoulders, before crossing the hall to the bathroom.
Once inside the small chamber, I locked the door, shed my clothes, and stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water turn my skin a pale scarlet as usual in the morning. I lathered shampoo into my hair, rinsed it out, smoothed conditioner into my shoulder length curls, and rinsed that out as well. I let the water beat a tender massage over my skin for a little while longer, before turning off the tap and stepping out of the steamy shower stall.
Wrapping a towel tight around my body, I began the long and arduous process of waxing my legs. When that task was done, and the skin of my limbs was a lovely, tingling pink, I rinsed the excess wax from my legs, using a lovely exfoliating body scrub from some muggle line known as Clinique.
Twenty minutes later, I left the bathroom, legs silky smooth, hair tied up in a simple but classic bun, loose curls hanging down by my cheeks, framing my face. I had gone for an elegant look that I had seen in muggle magazines, one that was only usually seen around the beginning of the year, when all of those odd awards shows popped up. Makeup, demure and natural, tinted my eyes and cheeks, and I had only to wait for breakfast and teeth- brushing to be over before I applied lipstick.
Making a stop at my bedroom to drop off my shower kit, I trotted downstairs in slippers and dressing gown, a delighted smile on my face. I would be on the train to school soon, would be pissing off the entire school soon, and would be back in the presence of the person most suited to my goals. These goals being, of course, to piss off everyone remotely close to me.
Once in the kitchen, which was blessedly deserted, I wove through the mass of clutter that clung to the wooden floorboards, stopped at the muggle refrigerator, pulled out a carton of milk, a banana, a dozen strawberries, and exactly four raspberries. Following that, I dropped the small bundle of ingredients on the counter, padded over to the freezer, and removed from the ice-encrusted contents a container of orange sorbet, and a bag of frozen peaches.
Carting the lot over to the counter where I had dropped the other ingredients for my breakfast, I made a few precise movements – namely plugging in the muggle blender, pouring a cup and a half of milk into the glass part of the blender, adding three scoops of sorbet, and turning the thing on. A lovely, headache-inducing sound greeted my actions, and I let the whirring continue for twenty-two more seconds, before stopping the mixer and throwing in my raspberries, strawberries, banana, and seven peach slices.
Again, the machine started to whir, and I grinned devilishly at the thumping coming from upstairs as the sounds of my breakfast being made woke the rest of the house. Knowing I had little time before the kitchen was bustling with people, I scurried over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a rather generous amount into the thick substance sitting innocently in the blender, and whirled the whole lot together again.
At last, the delicate process was finished, and I poured my breakfast into a large glass, grabbed a muggle invention known as a straw, stuck it into the pink smoothie, and began cleaning up my mess.
First to be replaced was the vodka, only after I had refilled the bottle with water, so that the clear liquid reached the line of black marker on the bottle. It was tricky, you see, to make my breakfast and be able to incorporate any type of liquor into it; I had to add the right ingredients that would mask both smell and taste, so that should someone happen to drink or smell my smoothie, I wouldn't be called on my drinking of alcohol at dawn.
Smirking, knowing that I could probably be considered as a raging alcoholic, if anyone knew about the various ways I snuck the wonderful substance into parts of my life that probably shouldn't have anything to do with it – like breakfast – I finished cleaning out the blender, dried it out, and was sitting comfortably at the table, drinking my breakfast, when my mother entered the kitchen.
"Morning mum," I said, smiling at my exhausted looking parent.
"Good morning, Ginny. You're rather chipper for such an early hour..." My mother replied with a yawn, flicking her wand at the coffee maker and taking a seat opposite me at the kitchen table.
"I can't help it," I grinned, though for reasons I wasn't about to tell my mother, "it's almost time to go back to Hogwarts..."
"What's this? Ginny... excited about going back to school?" That was Percy's voice, as he trotted into the kitchen like a pompous puppy dog, and dropped into the seat beside mum.
"Yes, I'm excited about going back to school."
"Why?"
God he's so infuriating... Punch him, will you, Gin?
Drawing on my considerable acting skills, I smiled sweetly at my brother, and shrugged, before taking a sip of my vodka laced smoothie and answering him.
"I've got NEWT level courses, I'm a Prefect, and I'm on the Quidditch team. It's going to be a wonderful year..."
Percy smiled and nodded his head in arrogant acknowledgement that I was apparently just like him when I was at school, before rising and pouring he and mum each a cup of steaming coffee.
Soon enough, as the morning grew steadily brighter, the kitchen filled with the rest of my family, not to mention Harry and Hermione. They all had their pancakes, waffles, sausages and toast for breakfast, while I finished off my liquor-infused smoothie before excusing myself – under the suspicious glares of the Dream Team and the twins – and heading back upstairs.
Stifling a yawn, I made my way down the short hallway to my bedroom, and grabbed my toothbrush and lipsticks from my shower kit.
Knowing I was the only person not eating breakfast, I disappeared into the bathroom contentedly, oddly at peace with the fact that, should I need it, I could have the entire floor – namely just the bathroom, my bedroom, and a linen closet – all to myself.
Shrugging slightly, I brushed my teeth slowly, the bristles of the toothbrush scrubbing small circles around my teeth. Spitting out the minty- blue foam that had accumulated in my mouth, I gagged on the bit of sweet mint tasting liquid that slid down my throat.
Coughing, I rinsed off my toothbrush and wiped my mouth, cleaning tiny flecks of blue foam from my mouth with the aid of a blue terry cloth towel. Turning back to the mirror that hung only slightly crooked above the vanity that was for once devoid of cosmetic cases, I examined my reflection staring back at me from the silver sheet.
My eyes were shadowed with a neutral color just a shade darker than my own skin tone, and lined with a soft brown that accentuated the warm brandy of my irises. My cheeks had been tinted with a soft pink, and the freckles that splashed across my nose and cheeks had been softened with the aid of a light concealer. Ponderously, I flicked through the half dozen tubes of lipstick I had brought with me, spotted the one I wanted, and slid the colored cosmetic over my lips.
Sighing softly, I collected my things, and returned to my bedroom, checking my watch as I did so.
Damn! Ten o'clock already! Time certainly flies when you're plotting about the best possible way to piss off your family, and wondering what plans your accomplice has up his sleeve.
I slipped through the partially open door of my room, and closed it solidly behind me. A quick examination of the premises – such as they were – showed no sign of a lurking Boy Wonder, seeing as how he was so keen to see me dress myself – I imagine it's a fetish of his, and I feel sorry for the poor woman who will become his wife – and proceeded to slide into the glove- like garment my darling Draco had sent me.
It wasn't uncomfortably tight, thank Merlin, or I would have suffocated. As it was, I noticed as I looked in the mirror that my chest seemed to have grown, and my hips to have become more streamlined, giving me the coveted hourglass figure that is virtually impossible to attain through natural means. I smirk at my reflection.
The fabric fell in a slightly jagged, artfully torn asymmetrical line from the middle of my left thigh to just below my right knee. The bodice restricted my breathing fairly minimally, although I noted that if I sighed, I felt like I was choking.
Better not sigh, then, Gin; you don't want to ruin this lovely game by dying, now do you?
"Shut up," I muttered to the cheeky party of my brain that sounded rather an uncomfortable lot like Fred and George when they spoke in unison, and re- examined the package Draco had sent me, which I had tossed on my bed upon pulling it and the dress out of my wardrobe.
My suspicions were confirmed, as I pulled out a pair of shoes – strappy silver stilettos – and a silver clutch bag, each of which returned to its normal size upon leaving the confines of the tiny box. Grinning, I pulled on the shoes, enjoying the added two inches to my height.
"GINNY! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE! WE'VE GOT TO GO!" Ron's voice, horribly loud, floated up the staircase and through my closed bedroom door.
I didn't bother to answer, instead examined my reflection once more, grabbed my clutch, tossed the essentials inside – namely lipstick, compact, lip gloss, eyeliner and wallet – and closed the clasp. I curled one hand around the handle of my school trunk, and started the long and laborious process of dragging it down the hallway.
Shit, Gin, this thing's bloody heavy...
At last, I reached the main floor, which was devoid of people – my family already being outside, waiting at the cars supplied by the Ministry. The Ministry hadn't even bothered to lie this time – they wanted Harry alive, and the only way they could ensure that, before he got on the train to school, was by supplying very well guarded vehicles to transport him to the train station.
Proceeding to pull the suitcase through the deserted kitchen and outside, I noticed two things. The first being that there was an incredibly large crowd waiting by the sleek black cars, the second being that the Boy-Who- Should-Have-Died was staring at me. Or gaping, rather.
An easy smirk curled my lips, as a member of the crowd approached and lifted the embossed, worn trunk from the ground as easily as though it were made of cotton fluff, and I sauntered towards my now-scowling family. Or part of my family, rather, as my parents had been called to Order Headquarters – Dumbledore had requested we not stay there this summer, something about safety and top secret plans – and Fred, George, Percy, Bill and Charlie had all gone off to work.
So, unfortunately, it was just the Golden Trio and myself who would be making the long and arduous trip to King's Cross.
"What are you wearing, Ginny?" Ronald, ever overprotective and eager to get slapped round the face.
"It's called a dress, Ronald," I replied, slowly, as though speaking to a child.
"There is no way that's a dress!"
"Granger, I assure you, it is a dress. I wouldn't be wearing it otherwise."
"You're going to go change, Ginny."
"You aren't my mother, Potter. Now. I suggest the three of you go settle yourselves in that car over there, while I take this one, and you can have a nice little discussion about how much of a whore I am, and about how I am in desperate need of a reality check."
Snickering, as they clambered into one of the two waiting cars like obedient puppies, I slid into the other, relishing the solitude.
I could get used to this...
All too soon, thanks to the magically enhanced properties of the vehicles, we arrived at Kings Cross, and I was being escorted into the station, flanked by the two suits who had accompanied me in my, ahem, limousine.
Not surprisingly, I was receiving wonderful death glares from the Trio, who were being escorted by their own entourage – which was larger than mine, considering the fact that Harry Potter, the boy-who-should-have-bloody-well- died-by-now, was present.
I sauntered through the barrier of platform nine and three quarters, still flanked by my personal goons. They were getting kind of irritating, really. I mean, if Voldie wanted to come right out and kill me, he could damn well try, but I was pretty sure he would go after Potter, first.
Now you know how Draco must feel.
Blinking at that thought, I looked around for my 'business associate' and promptly spotted him bidding farewell to his parents. Or mother, rather. His father was nowhere to be seen.
"Going to go say high to your boyfriend?" Potter inquired childishly from behind.
I turned.
"Honestly Potter, I should think you'd be above First Year taunts, by now." I retorted, raising a brow.
"Yes, well, Ginny, we thought you were above Malfoy, but apparently we were wrong."
"Actually, Granger, I think I've always been under him. He's a domineering little snake, that one."
And, smirking at their appalled looks, and Ron's swift fall into shock, I sauntered towards Draco and his mother, dragging my new pets along with me.
"Ah, there you are, pet. I was wondering if you were ever going to make it, or if your family had put you under lock and key. But, now that you're here, I'd like you to meet someone," Draco announced smoothly, upon spotting me.
I turned to Lady Malfoy, who was rather like a female version of her son, barring the more condescending look on her features. Draco just looked... mocking, most of the time.
"Virginia, this is my mother Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, this is the girl I was telling you about, Virginia Weasley."
A charming, if somewhat chill, smile curled the older woman's lips, and I returned it in kind.
Careful, Gin...
"Ms. Weasley. A pleasure to meet you." Her voice, rather like that of her son, was charming, laced with honeyed poison.
"And the same to you, Lady Malfoy," I replied easily, warily.
Draco smirked, bid farewell to his mother, before dragging me off down the platform. My goons followed.
"Draco," I whined in his ear, petulant, "is there any way to get rid of those two?" I gestured behind.
He turned, taking in the Ministry appointed guards who had been trailing behind me like lost puppy dogs. With a slight shake of his head, he motioned me to stop, and sauntered to where the two uniformed men stood, conspicuous in their attempt at looking inconspicuous.
Damn, Gin. Does everyone get lessons in being inconspicuous from the same place?
I wondered, recalling the event in Diagon Alley the previous day.
A few moments later, my blond pet returned, and the two goons disappeared – as much as was possible for them – into the crowd, no doubt seeking out their counterparts.
Draco linked my arm in his, and we strolled through the crowd, our baggage having been already stowed somewhere on the lengthy scarlet steam engine belching black smoke by the side of the platform. The masses of mostly robed figures parted before us, and I rather felt like I was in that muggle story about that old religious coot who parted the sea, to help some impoverished serfs escape, or some such thing.
Shrugging off the thought, I smirked a little at the looks we were receiving. Naturally, from the females, I was receiving glares shot through with envy and jealousy, while the males looked rather disgusted with my choice of companions. Draco, on the other hand, was on the receiving end of many disgustingly lust-filled glances from the girls who were not too busy glaring at me, and looks of respectful contempt from the males.
He pulled me onto the train, a while later, and we went in search of a compartment not full to bursting with irritating prats. Our hunt was rather unsuccessful.
As we were wandering down the train, we were apprehended by none other than Pansy Parkinson and her entourage – namely Blaise Zabini, raven haired beauty, and Millicent Bulstrode, the female equivalent of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle – who seemed quite put out.
"What are you doing here, Weasel?" Parkinson. Never one to come up with a witty... anything, really.
"I happen to be looking for a compartment, wench," I retorted easily.
Parkinson, as well as her entourage, spluttered. I had never really been one to sling about such nasty words – as my mother would call them – so freely.
"Go look down the Gryffindor end. I won't have you polluting our... air... down here." Genius, wasn't she? Pausing to find something that I could pollute.
I raised a brow.
"Trust me, love. You're the pollution. Now, why don't you be a dear, and go find a nice trash can to throw yourself into, and save me the trouble, hmm?"
Zabini fixed me with what I assumed was supposed to be an acid glare, and Bulstrode cracked her knuckles in a gesture that would have any normal girl running for her life. I blinked.
"Come along, pet. We've better things to do." Draco pushed me lightly in the small of my back, and I swayed by the three Slytherins, childishly sticking my tongue out at them as I passed.
A little way down the train, I stopped walking, remembering something I had promised him in my letter. I spun round, having to look up in order to see his face rather than his shoulder, and balanced on my toes, bringing my lips to his.
The first kiss was gentle, little more than a brush of my lips against his own. The second was a little more intense, as he pulled me closer, lifting my chin with his hand. The third – which I hadn't actually intended to give – involved a little tongue, when he nibbled on my bottom lip.
We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and I pulled away slowly, cheeks lightly flushed. I turned towards the sound, as did Draco, to see – what a surprise – the Dream Team attempting to look furious instead of sickened.
"Do you mind? You're in our way." Ooh, Granger was being snotty, was she?
"Go around, mudblood," Draco sneered, and the appropriate smirk curled my lips – though I was still rather disgusted with the term.
The three gaped, and the smallest of shrugs lifted Draco's shoulders. He turned back to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the nearest compartment. Which, surprisingly enough, was empty.
Potter and his entourage were about to follow, when Draco slid shut the compartment door, and sealed it with a well-placed, quickly cast spell. Through the frosted glass, we could see Granger throwing charm after charm at the warded door, in an attempt to get through. I snickered.
"I've a gift for you, pet," he stated, reaching into his pocket.
"Another one?" I queried, raising a brow.
"Of course."
He withdrew a cubical package from a pocket in his robes, and presented it to me with a small flourish. I unwrapped it slowly, pulling at the tissue paper with my index finger, but apparently my toy was a little impatient. He tugged the gift out of my palm, and opened it himself, displaying the contents of the black velvet box with yet another flourish.
I gasped.
"Why?" I was curious, really, as to why he would give me such an expensive gift. We were only playing a game, after all.
"You didn't expect me to give up this chance to make Parkinson exceedingly jealous, did you? In the time I was with her, I gave her nothing more than a pair of pearl earrings." He smirked at the thought.
I took one of the chandelier-style emerald earrings in my palm, and examined it closely.
Shit, Gin! You should've thought of this farce earlier!
"Do you like them?" Draco asked, watching as I slid first the left and then the right earring through my pierced lobes.
He fastened the matching necklace around my neck.
I turned, after the clasp fell securely against the flesh of my neck, and planted a sound kiss on his smirking lips.
Needless to say, we spent the rest of the train ride enjoying the pastime that makes being a teenager so goddamn fun.
A/N: Bah. Long, crap, and boring chapter, but it's almost exam time, and I felt like I had been neglecting you, seeing as how I promised a chapter like a month ago, and it just didn't happen. It's been pretty much the same with my other fics. My most humble apologies, but I'll write my little arse off in a week and a half, since school and graduation will be officially done by then.