A/N: More oddness. Don't try to make sense of this, please.

Disclaimer: Me, I'm dishonest. And with dishonest (wo)men you can always count on them to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest one's you have to look out for. So when I say that I own the above, slightly altered quote and the Harry Potter universe, what're you going to believe?

THANK YOU'S:

macally: Yesh, this is loony. :D And look! I'm updating! ::dances, because sevenyears NEVER updates::

pin: Glad you think it's funny!

feedlesteex: Yes! You're right, Ginny is like Luna! I'm glad you said that because that was what I was going for. And it was also the fact that Draco's inner conscience was trying to get the point across that he needed help from an insane Weasley. Hope this chapter amuses you also, anyway.

K-iska-Muggle-Girl-0731: Thank you muchly for your review! I'll try to check out your story sometime.

One last thank you to everyone who did review! It made me feel a whole lot better, I tell you.

Be My Frickin' Valentine

Part II:

Summary: Draco Malfoy sucks, and so does Ginny.

Or do they?

**

" Draco Malfoy, you suck!" Ginny declared.

" You suck more." He retaliated.

" I'm not offended." She said coolly, crossing her arms.

" Well, neither am I, then." He harrumphed.

And they each went their own way. Angrily.

**

Ginny grumbled as she walked to her next class. She couldn't see a thing!

" What is with this ethereal fog?" She asked a nearby painting. " Is it supposed to create suspense in this sorry excuse for fanfiction? I scoff at the author."

But the painting, as it turned out, was on vacation currently, so it could give no answer. But Ginny didn't see that, especially through the fog.

" Fine." She snapped. " Don't talk to me."

And she walked on, occasionally tripping over a potted plant.

" Damn you!" She suggested. But then, there came a light from the end of the corridor.

The fog cleared to reveal....

" Malfoy, you prat! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play around with fog machines?" She gave him the finger.

He laughed and crossed his arms.

" What're you gonna do about it, Weasley? Just because you can't afford a fog machine." He taunted. Ginny's face was the epitome of cool. A typical Malfoy response, after all.

" Smash in your face, that's what!" She told him. Grinding her teeth, she charged towards him, red hair flying wild. She raised her fist to strike him, but his strong hands caught it first.

The air shimmered. Someone yelled, " Scene change!" and the whole mood of the story was altered.

Ginny stared, for the first time, into Draco's beautifully gray eyes. Which didn't make sense, because no part of Malfoy was beautiful, or ever could be beautiful, even with the aid of quality plastic surgery.

" You wouldn't dare hurt me." He breathed dramatically, his voice deep and huskier than they had ever been before. A gust of wind came out of no where and mussed his platinum blonde hair into a messy array. Sad violin music began to fade in from no where.

Sentimental tears filled Ginny's eyes now, overcome by such violently clashing emotions.

" Maybe I would." She whispered back. He looked down at her lovingly.

" You and I both know that's not true. Denial won't get us anywhere, Ginny."

But no more would be said, because at that moment, the moment that their eyes were locked in passion, he leaned in to gracefully capture her lips with his.

And everything that was supposed to happen, did. Her knees buckled and turned to jelly at the same time--it was the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced--it was true love--insert any other mushy gushy descriptions here.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot.

And they made love right there on the carpet, and Draco's fog machine turned on again to ethereally cover them with suspenseful fog. But it was really more for tactful censorship, as the movie--er, fanfic--would have to be rated R if you caught a glimpse of their naked bodies.

It was so romantic, half the audience began to bawl their eyes out, and the other half emptied the contents of their stomachs into their popcorn bags.

**

And then, Ginny Weasley also woke up with a yelp. She got out of her soft, comfortable bed to sit down on the rug. Panting from the wild dream she had just had, she wondered what it all meant. In the end she concluded in her diary--

I think what it really means is this: Find a boyfriend. Your inner conscience wants one, badly. If not that, I'm just really horny.

**

A/N:

The moral of this story: Sometimes hate is actually love. But sometimes hate is really actually hate. And also sometimes, there is no moral to a story and the cause is simply that the author is still sick with a high fever.