Disclaimer: Is there really a need do have a second disclaimer? Didn't you get enough of the last one? If you feel inclined to read a disclaimer for this chapter, see Part One. If not, then I'll continue with the story.

The Encounter

Setting: A red-haired girl and a blond boy are standing on opposite sides of a doorway. The girl seems to be blocking his way, and vice versa. Ironically neither appears to be striving too hard to pass the other.

'Excuse—'

'Oh, it's you.'

'No, actually, I'm really Draco Malfoy in disguise.'

'Your kidding. But if you're me, then who am I?'

'You, quite obviously, must be me.'

'Indeed, I seem to be experiencing a slightly twisted déjà-vu.'

'Yes, we appear to be rather backward.'

'Hm.'

'How do I know you're me?'

'Why wouldn't I be you?'

'Well....because I'm me.'

'No you're not. You only look like you. I however, am you.'

'But. Wouldn't you actually have to look like me to be me?'

'Not if you don't have to look like me to be me.'

'Oh.'

'Then again, if I did have to look like you to be you, an you had to look like me to be me, then you must surely be you, and I, beyond any doubt, must be me.'

'Funny how that works.'

'So, what are you doing here?'

'Being you...or was it me? Oh dear.'

'We do seem to have a problem.'

'No, wait.'

'What?'

'I think we can safely say that you are you, whereas I, am Ginny Weasley.'

'Not another one....how did you manage that?'

'Born that way. The healers said there was no cure.'

'What a shame.'

'It's the hair.'

'Yes, I see.'

'So, now that we know who we think we are, why are you here?'

'Well, as you can no doubt see, I was in an empty room, and was hoping that I would not need to be 'here' any longer. Why are you here?'

'I'm on a quest. To find the missing sock. I lost it back in second year, and haven't seen hide nor hair of it since. Quite tragic.'

'Terrible.'

'Yes, it was purple.'

'Truly awful. No sock deserves that.'

'No.'

'So why are you really here?'

'I'm on my way to a Death Eater's meeting. I've got a most attractive black skull burnt on to my fore-arm. Want to see?'

'Hm. No thanks. Do you get the feeling we've had this conversation before?'

'Nope, not in the slightest....okay. Maybe a little.'

'Strange.'

'Yes.'

'Are you going to make me ask again.'

'You said yourself you'd see me around. Now you have. It must have been fate...'

'Of course. It always is. You didn't take Divination, did you?'

'No, but I heard it was loads better now that Firenze is teaching it.'

'It's still Divination.'

'What, you don't fancy reading your horoscope off crushed mistletoe berries coated in stinksap?'

'They do that?!'

'No! I was making that up!'

'Stop laughing at me. It's not very nice.'

'Oh? So now I'm getting manners lessons from a Malfoy?'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Your not exactly known for your tact. Nor your politesse.'

'Thanks a lot.'

'Well it's the truth!'

'That doesn't mean I wanted to hear it!'

'You'd rather I lied to you and told you how wonderful you were? Prince Malfoy? No thank-you. If that's all you want from me, then you can go find yourself another of your adoring Slytherins!'

'No, I don't want you to lie to me, but you don't have to go listing my faults either. I've had enough of this. Can you let me through? I want to leave.'

'Draco Malfoy, you're going to stay right there until you've heard me out. I wouldn't have guessed, two weeks ago, that you could be civil, never mind fun to be around. I thought you were a complete git, who couldn't open his mouth without criticizing someone, and here I am, having an almost normal conversation. You're sarcastic, and witty, and you're not cruel or cold hearted. In fact, from what I've seen, you're a pretty decent person, and that's something I'd never thought I'd hear myself say.'

'Was that supposed to be a compliment?'

'No. Well...not really. The point is, that if you didn't make such an effort to come across as closed, and un-approachable, then maybe people wouldn't focus so fully on your faults. If you didn't flaunt your wealth, you'd have a lot more friends. As it is, I think you're just lonely.'

'I'm fine, and I don't need the concern of a Weasley.'

'You're fine? Is that it? Just fine? You know, Harry uses the same words just after he's had a vision of the Crutiatus. He's undergone one of the three unforgivable curses, but, he says he's fine.'

'Precious Potter. Perfect Potter. It's always about him, isn't it? Potter this, Potter that. Just because of some stupid scar!'

'Have you ever talked to him? Just once? Talked instead of insulted?'

'Yes.'

'When—oh. I know. That was when you offered to help him recognize the dirt that was Weasley. I heard all about that. If that's what you call talking, then you're even worse off than I thought.'

'How was I in the wrong?! I offered my friendship, and he turned it away like it was trash.'

'He didn't. He turned it down, because you just offered to help him throw away the first friend he ever had!'

'Yeah, right. Perfect Potter. I bet he grew up surrounded be whiny little brats. He came to school with a bigger ego than mine!'

'That, I'm afraid is very difficult to do. Have you never heard stories about where he lived?'

'Yeah. England somewhere. He blew up his aunt, and the papers shushed it up. Even then he was singled out, nothing bad should ever be known about Perfect Potter.'

'You think so? Do you also know that he spent the first eleven years of his life living in a cupboard, and that he was treated as badly as your house elf by the only people on the planet who share his blood?'

'What?'

'He's completely alone, and his only living relatives despised his very existence.'

'I doubt that.'

'Okay.'

'Okay, what?'

'Well if you want to believe that, I can't force you to think otherwise.'

'Oh.'

'Indeed.'

'A cupboard?'

'Yes.'

'That's awful.'

'And not the half of it.'

'I see.'

'Yes, I rather think you do.'

'Listen, I, uh, I didn't—didn't—'

'No, it's fine, I understand.'

'Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

'Right.'

'I'm sorry.'

'What?'

'I shouldn't have said that about your family. Or your manners. They're fine. Old habits die hard, I guess.'

'Yeah.'

'Truce?'

'Yes.'

'Your hand is warm!'

'It's called blood Weasley. Contrary to popular belief, I am not cold-blooded.'

'Sorry, I mean, I never thought—'

'Relax, it's not that big of a deal. Not worth blushing over at any rate.'

'I'm not blushing!'

'Yes you are.'

'Am not!'

'Okay.'

'What?! That's not fair. That's my line.'

'Really? But I thought I was you?'

'Oh?'

'Yes, in everything but looks that is.'

'Is that what we decided upon?'

'I believe so. This being the case, am I correct in assuming my right to purloin 'lines' that previously belonged to you?'

'I suppose, provided, of course, that I am able to return the favour?'

'Agreed.'

'I really wasn't blushing, you know.'

'Sure.'

'I wasn't!'

'I believe you.'

'No you don't, you're—stop laughing at me...it isn't very nice.'

'Touché.'

'So, uh, I guess I should move.'

'Why?'

'You did say you wanted out.'

'I did? ... Oh, yes, I suppose so.'

'Better?'

'Not really.'

'No?'

'It wasn't actually so bad. In there, that is.'

'It was your decision.'

'Hmm.'

'I'll see you.'

'This sounds familiar.'

'It was meant to.'

'That's sneaky.'

'Thank-you.'

'How did you ever manage to make Gryffindor.'

'I asked it nicely.'

'What?!'

'Don't look so shocked.'

'You asked it?'

'Yes. Bye, then.'

'Right. Er, bye.'

Closing: The red-head turns her back on the boy, and walks slowly away the way she'd come. Two steps later, she spins around and places a light kiss on his cheek. She grins defiantly at his shocked expression, and walks off down the corridor. As she rounds the corner, she misses the small smile that finds it's way across the blonde's face before he, too, departs.

A/N:  This is it.  The end of the first piece I've written to have more than one part.  Does that count as an accomplishment?  Hmm.  I feel I should appologise to Nimbirosa who has a strong aversion to anything not H/G.  Alas, I confess to my D/G weakness.  This was short and sweet, and, yes.  My next story will be H/G.  Have no fear.  Er, not much anyways.