Disclaimer: No rights to Harry Potter other than the right to remain an avid reader of the series.

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Chapter 17- Quidditch and Love Lessons

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Ginny shoved her gear into a bag, slung the strap over her shoulder and left the changing room. Quidditch practise had been brutal.

Sometimes Harry gave Oliver Wood a run for his money as the toughest Captain in Gryffindor history. Their team played Slytherin in two days, and Captain Bligh, a.k.a. Potter, was running his team ragged making sure they were in top condition for the match. Even Ron had half-jokingly asked Harry if he was trying to kill them.

The good Captain had not been amused. Face set in grim intensity, he'd yelled, "I don't care if it kills me. I don't care if it kills you. We're going to practise until I know we're going to beat Malfoy!"

Leaning into the wind, Ginny trudged toward the school thinking Harry's last word said it all. The Boy Who Lived was obsessed with beating his archenemy. She was rather obsessed with Draco herself, but in a way that gave lovely butterfly feelings in her stomach, not ulcers.

"Ginny, wait up!"

Speak of the Captain. What's he want—to keelhaul me for yawning during his motivational speech at the end? Sorry, Cap'n, Sir, we scurvy bilge rats tend to get bored after a half hour rant. Maybe if you gave the crew some rum.

The wind blew strands of hair across her face as she glanced at the boy now walking beside her. He looked confused. Sometimes Harry forgot she'd gotten over her crush a long time ago. She only got breathless around another boy these days, but Ginny wasn't about to share the information with a Slytherin hater.

"Uh...well...you didn't seem yourself during practise. Is anything wrong?"

"Maybe I was tired of scrubbing the deck for the umpteenth time, Captain Harry."

"What?"

That's what she wanted to know. What good was being raised by Muggles if you never read any decent books? She smiled to herself. Wouldn't Harry go spare if she staged a Mutiny on the Quidditch Team?

He was frowning again. She tried to explain patiently, "I'm tired. We practised so hard I don't know if I have enough energy to eat dinner. The team is ready for the match. End of discussion." Quickening her pace, Ginny sighed in relief as they drew near the side entrance.

Harry wasn't finished. "It's not just practise. You never hang out with us anymore. Every time we ask you to play a game, you say you're going to the library. Do you really need to study there five days a week?"

She'd be in the 'library' seven days a week if it wouldn't be too obvious that she was meeting someone. Apparently, some reassurance was in order. "C'mon, Harry, didn't I beat you in wizard chess just two nights ago? Sure I go to the library a lot, but you know Colin comes with me sometimes. It's just that I have new friends, and I can't bring Blaise and Luna back to our common room, can I?"

The boy ran a hand through his black hair, making it stick up worse than ever. He needed a styling charm. Draco's hair always looked perfect.

On the school steps, a trio of girls were singing something catchy and dancing in a way that made Harry scowl. "How can you be friends with Zabini? She's a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. What can you possibly have in common?"

In response to the loud query, Blaise called out, "Look girls, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot,

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing..."

"What are you trying to say Zabini?"

Blaise sauntered over. Smiling in a way that made Harry's face tighten, she drawled, "I was quoting Macbeth. If you thought I was talking about you, well, if the shoe fits…."

"You think you're so funny...you won't be laughing Saturday when I beat Malfoy to the snitch!"

"Sure I will. I'm going to laugh at a little boy who thinks catching a flying ball makes him a big man. I'll be laughing at you, Potty."

Harry looked seconds away from jinxing the taunting girl. Ginny stepped between them. "Hey, cut it out—both of you. Harry, I'm going to talk to Blaise. I'll see you at dinner."

"Fine. I don't want to stick around anyway. I'm rapidly losing my appetite."

Ginny gave Blaise a 'belt it' look which she reluctantly heeded. The insolent girl did send the boy a hand gesture when he looked back, though. He glared and defiantly returned it before slamming the door shut. The Slytherins broke into giggles. Flint and MacDuff waved and rushed inside, no doubt to inform everyone in their House all about 'Perfect Potter's' little temper tantrum.

"Did you have to do that?" Ginny asked.

"I did."

Shaking her head, Ginny smiled at seeing the note waved by a slender hand. "Is that for me?"

"No, it's for that other redheaded Gryffindor Chaser who's going with a Slytherin Seeker."

Snatching the note, Ginny eagerly read the message.

Saturday night- Room of Requirement- 8PM. Wear the black velvet dress and dancing shoes.

The butterflies in her stomach were doing loop de loops. Ginny folded the note into a tiny square and opened her robes to tuck it into her bra.

"So that's your secret. How many notes are stuffed in there, anyway?"

Ginny informed with a smirk, "No padding necessary. Why, thinking about padding yours?" It was strangely nice how Slytherins enjoyed her quips. Hermione would've been indignant, but Blaise just laughed.

"Hey, I may not be able to match size, but quality, well, nobody's perkier than me."

"Oh really...says who?"

"Says Terry."

This was such a bizarre conversation. Ginny threw up her hands. "He'd know, I'm sure. Please don't flash me. I'll take your word for it!"

Blaise chuckled and waved farewell.

Back at Gryffindor, Ginny met the gazes of Harry, Ron, and Hermione and knew Harry had just finished telling them his side of the story. They all looked at her accusingly.

Ron demanded to know, "How come you're friends with someone who makes rude gestures?"

"Harry made one back."

Ron and Hermione both stared at Harry. He shrugged defensively. "I was provoked. You know how she is Ron. She gets under your skin too."

Hermione's eyes started to spark. "How exactly does that Slytherin girl get under your skin, Ronald?"

"Now, Hermione, it's not like that, c'mon."

This routine the two fell into was really starting to annoy Ginny. It was as if they were stuck in a rut and never moved out of it. Instead, they just dug it deeper and deeper. Right now, she didn't want to hear bickering. She wanted to go to her room, look at her dress and dream about Saturday, so she did.

The three she left behind didn't even notice.

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"Where's Ginny?"

Luna had been spending her Friday evening finishing next week's Arithmancy homework. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Harry."

The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Look-As-Cute-When-Grumpy waited for her answer. She didn't like his tone, so she waited for him to ask again. She'd mentally counted to ten when he blurted, "Ginny said she was studying with you in the library, so where is she?"

Blinking in curiosity, Luna asked mildly, "Did you take Polyjuice potion?"

He shook his head as if thrown by the odd question. "No. Why?"

"Because you're acting like her brother."

The frown was back again. Luna liked Harry's expression about as much as she liked the thought that he was a little too concerned about his 'friend's' whereabouts. Was he suspicious because he was jealous? It felt like something was twisting inside. She had to fight to not let it show.

He gave a wry smile. "Sorry. It's just that Ginny's been acting different lately—not wanting to be with our group like before. I only wanted to make sure my friend's okay."

Friend...so many different meanings were stuffed into that word.

Luna wished she didn't doubt Harry's explanation. Making a quick decision, she curved her lips into something like a smile and said, "I think I know where she is. Follow me. I'll show you."

Harry walked beside her as she drifted across the main floor to the stairway. He remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.

Luna knew Ginny was helping Draco 'shelve' a book on the third floor, and did not intend to take Harry there. Instead, she led him to the Muggle Literature stacks on the second floor. The gut-wrenching sensation hit her again as the teen eagerly moved toward the Shakespeare section.

His face was perplexed when he emerged from between the bookshelves. "She's not there."

"Oh my... I wonder if she got permission to borrow that book she wanted from the Restricted Section. Let's check there."

"All right, but I wish you had thought of that when we were downstairs."

Following the boy descending the stairs two at a time, Luna's eyes felt misty. Normally, it was due to the dream about that magical day when he'd notice her, and wonder why he hadn't before.

At the end of last year, when Harry offered to help her find the things people had hidden, she'd seen a softness in his beautiful green eyes that she'd spun dreams around ever since. Now, she wondered if it had only been her imagination. It was a lowering thought.

Watching him pace impatiently before the roped off section, she tried to make conversation. "Are you looking forward to the match tomorrow?"

Quidditch was the magic word. Harry looked over and smiled briefly. "Yeah, we're going to win, and we're going to win big."

"How do you know?"

Luna didn't care about the answer, she just wanted to see the intense look on his face and watch his eyes light up. Harry loved the game the way she loved... No, she wasn't going to think about that. She was going to enjoy his attention, even if she had to pretend to be riveted by strategy and strange things like 'Porskoff Ploys', 'Sloth Grip Rolls', and 'Bludger Backbeating'.

He assured her, "Ron's been practicing the Double Eight Loop!"

"I'm impressed. I'll be cheering for you."

The wide smile she received made everything worthwhile. They talked about school for awhile, least and best liked classes and such. Harry started to get restless again, drumming his fingers while he stared at the Restricted Section.

"Hello, Luna."

Perching on the edge of her table with his back to Harry, Wesley Roberts grinned. The corners of Luna's mouth turned up. "Hello, Wesley."

Now Harry was scowling. Had she really used the same breathy tone reserved for The-Boy-Who-Starred-In-Her-Dreams?

The golden-haired charmer winked at her. Oh dear, she had. It was completely accidental. A little voice said, Yes, a Freudian Slip. Ignoring inner voices that knew nothing, the girl realised she'd missed what Roberts had just said.

He smiled nicely and repeated, "I asked what brings you lurking round the Restricted Section."

"We're looking for Ginny Weasley."

Without turning to gaze at the boy who had answered for her, Wesley said drolly, "I didn't realize you'd changed your name to Luna, Potter. Very modern and free-thinking of you...must be very sure of your masculinity...I salute you."

"Funny, Roberts."

"Thank you, Potter, I've worked hard to become so."

Luna had to press her lips together not to laugh. Her eyes must have given her away, because Wesley's eyes sparkled brighter than ever.

Dimples appeared in his cheeks. "I think I saw the Weasley girl sitting at your table. She looked like she was gathering her things to leave." Turning his head to regard the other boy, he said dryly, "If you hurry, I'm sure you can catch her, Potter. Don't worry about Luna. I'm more than happy to take her off your hands."

Her heart skipped a beat. Wesley was jesting, he didn't really mean it. He liked Fiona Flint. Didn't he?

"No thanks, Roberts. I'm more than happy to walk Luna to Ravenclaw before I head back. You can go do whatever it was you were doing before."

Waggling his eyebrows at her, Wesley said in a laughing voice, "What was I doing before? Oh yes, I was dreaming of snogging a beautiful girl after I got her alone in a corridor. I guess I'll just have to make do with my fantasies, hmmm?"

Harry rose and moved around to take Luna's arm. "Keep your fantasies to yourself, Roberts."

Not knowing whether her heart was racing because of Harry or Wesley or some combination of the two, Luna meekly said goodbye and went along with Harry.

Wesley called after them, "Lovegood doesn't mind me sharing my fantasies. Do you, Bella-Luna?"

She paused at the compliment, but refused to look back, deeply disturbed to find that she didn't.

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Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing-
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

"Merlin save me from cruel witches who never sleep in on Saturday mornings! What are you two up to?" Blaise yanked opened her bed curtains to see her two friends stirring a cauldron over a portable fire.

They looked up.

Morrigan grinned. "We just like the way that sounds. Shakespeare's words are so much better than what we came up with." Pausing, she recited dramatically, "Softer than saggy skin of Irma Pince, will be your hair after using this rinse."

"Eeuwww! You're right. That's a horrible mental image! How someone can resemble a vulture and have those awful droopy neck rolls." Blaise shook off the willies produced by thoughts of the librarian. "I could use some hair rinse, though. Is it done?" She grabbed her wand off the side table, waved it to make her bed, and walked over to watch Fiona ladle some into a flagon for her. "Thanks."

"Vanity, thy name is woman."

The three girls turned to stare at the face looking out of the black curtains shrouding the fourth bed in the room. Cassandra Priam was a strange girl. She dyed her hair black and wore nothing but black—clothes, eyeliner, lipstick, and fingernail polishes. A few Slytherins who were into the Muggle music called 'Alternative' were the odd girl's friends.

Blaise always tried to be polite. Who knew what Cassandra would do if she didn't like you? In addition, she could scry all sorts of useful things in a bowl of water. That skill by itself was worth the effort of civility. Blaise smiled. "That's from 'Hamlet.' Frailty, right? You probably heard the girls quoting Macbeth."

"Hard not to."

Priam had a gift for killing conversation. The bizarre girl's dark brown eyes looked inward for a moment and then her mouth curved slightly. "You're going to an island today, Zabini."

Slanting a disbelieving glance toward her friends who were trying unsuccessfully not to snicker, Blaise looked toward the window where the sky was dark grey and threatening to pour buckets any minute. Trying to be diplomatic, she said, "Well, if I do go to an island, I'll bring you back a shell, okay?"

"I appreciate you humouring me. It is more than others do. No one believes my prophecies. I'm cursed by the gods."

The pyjama-clad girl climbed out of bed to grab some black clothes.

Fiona and Morrigan howled with laughter the moment she walked into the lavatory.

"Merlin, she's so creepy!"

"Why would anybody believe anythingshe says? Priam is crazy!"

Blaise wondered about that. Cassandra had told her she would be getting new clothes before the wardrobe arrived from her mother. She'd also predicted the Slytherin party would end in disaster.

Back in first year, hadn't the weird girl been right about what Draco would see after their birthday party? Maybe there was something to Priam's claim. Blaise headed for the shower, teasing her friends on the way, "Hey, Cassandra predicted my hair would be softer after this rinse. Do you think it will come true?"

In the common room a short time later, Blaise said to the boy radiating barely suppressed excitement, "Big day for you, Dracowith Quidditch and other things…."

"What's bigger than Quidditch?"

Crabbe was doing an excellent job of talking whilst chewing. The hulking youth had honed the ability over the years to a fine art. His words sounded a bit muffled, but Blaise would take that over 'see food' any day.

"Nothing's bigger than Quidditch, stupid. Right, Zabini?"

Not wanting Goyle to hit Crabbe again, she agreed, "Right, Gregory. Quidditch makes the world go round. If you stopped playing, it would lead to planetary disaster, I'm sure."

The large boys nodded, earnestly agreeing with her logic. They were so funny. Fiona and Morrigan snorted. They thought so too.

Draco leaned close to whisper, "This is my day. I can feel it. First, I'm going to take the Snitch from Potter and then I'm going to spend the evening with my girl. Today is going to be perfect."

Blaise smiled. "Like you?"

White teeth flashed as Draco bit into a strawberry. "Damn right."

Blaise was still grinning over her friend's mock conceit as she made her way to the seventh floor. Just because girls called Draco a love god and boys thought he was an elitist snob, that didn't mean he was either of those things.

Draco Malfoy was smart. He used people's perceptions of him to further his goals and ambitions.

She hoped today, all his goals were realised and the Gryffindor Seeker went home sobbing like a little girl after his opponent stole the Snitch away. Perhaps that wasn't very nice, but regardless of how naïve she could be at times, Blaise was no Hufflepuff.

Outside the Room of Requirement, she walked back and forth three times, concentrating on willing the room to become the perfect place for her and Terry to spend a few hours together.

When the door manifested itself, Blaise walked in and stared.

It's an island—the island from my dream. There's the hammock. Merlin, the water is so blue, the flowers smell incredibly sweet...and the sand is soft and white…. Someone told me I would go to an island today. I can't remember, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is….

Strong arms slid around her waist. Looking down, Blaise saw that instead of her clothes, she was wearing a black bikini. Terry was wearing blue swim trunks. Her smile spread. He was no Speedo wearing, if you've got it-flaunt it type like someone else she could name. She was glad. Her boyfriend looked fine.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Blaise nodded, laughingly pulling Terry across the beach and into the water. They swam, floated, and finally made their way back to the hammock. The feel of his body against hers was bliss.

Looking into his deep blue eyes while they gently swung back and forth, she asked softly, "What's your family like?"

She combed her fingers through Terry's long hair as he answered, " Normal, I guess. Mother, father, three sons…I'm the youngest one. My eldest brother, David, works for my dad. Our family owns a winery. We make old-fashioned ciders with apples grown locally, and country wines. We've won a few awards, and a lot of restaurants order from us—Wizard's Bay."

"I've heard that name. Eddy loves your elderflower wine."

"From what you've said, she likes all wines. Don't poke, I'm joking." Terry smiled. "Anyway, my other brother Barry's a pro Quidditch player. He just signed to be a Beater with the Chudley Cannons. Mum's happy. He'll be close to home, now. We live in Devon near Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Sounds nice. Do you spend all the holidays together? Are you close?"

"Yes. What about your family?"

Blaise smiled wryly and admitted, "Abnormal...Mother's...Mother, and Father spends as much time away from home as possible. They love each other madly in their unique way. They just can't live together. He's promised to be home for Christmas, though. There's no extended family, well, none they keep in contact with. We've sort of adopted the Malfoys. Lucius was always gone on business, too. Narcissa and Eddy became inseparable right before first year, and we've spent holidays together ever since."

Terry's lips tilted up as he said with quiet sincerity, "I wish I could take you home with me." He kissed her tenderly. "My poor little rich girl."

"I'm a rich little rich girl. I've got you."

His mouth was firm and soft, gentle and demanding all at the same time. Blaise caressed his firmer, paler flesh, and forgot about the world outside their enchanted isle as she and Terry made her dream a reality.

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Draco smirked, observing his teammates running across the lawns in the downpour. They splashed recklessly through the puddles, heedless of the rain soaking them. The Slytherin Captain strolled behind, staying dry under his charmed umbrella and taking care to avoid puddles.

Although the day was so overcast it resembled night, with poor visibility due to the rain, nothing kept students from turning out en masse. Quidditch was that popular.

While looking toward the field he could barely see through the sheets of rainwater, he heard a voice close behind him yell, "Give 'em hell, Draco!"

Blaise was huddling with Boot under a large black umbrella. The scowling boy rolled his eyes as his girlfriend grinned and waved a shaker thing vigorously. Unable to resist, Draco boasted, "Always." He promised, "I'll snatch the Snitch just for you."

Terry-Boy sneered. "Not if Potter catches it first."

Malfoy ignored the Ape-Man who had less couth than that chimp-friend of his. What was that name? Oh yes, Cheetah. That was Roberts to a tee…a cheeky monkey….

Smiling at his friend just to see wild-man Boot bare his teeth in anger—possessive bastards were so easy to provoke—Draco waved before heading toward the changing rooms.

Inside, He caught a glimpse of red further down the corridor. Ginny paused before entering the girls' area and looked back to see him and smile.

That smile lifted his spirits and put a swagger in his step. His team looked eager to brave the elements for a chance to beat Gryffindor. He gave them a short pep talk after changing into his Quidditch robes, grabbed his broom, and led his men onto the pitch.

Mid-field, Draco met Potter and suffered touching the boy's limp fingers for the traditional handshake. Rejoining his teammates, he barely heard Hooch's whistle over the gusting wind. Brooms rose into the air. The game was on.

Draco gritted his teeth in determination as he bent low, keeping a firm grip on the broomstick. Brutal wind seemed to be trying to wrench it from his grasp. Shaking wet hair out of his eyes, the Slytherin Seeker crisscrossed the field in pursuit of his target.

The crowd was a distant din of rain-obscured faces as he relentlessly tracked the Snitch back and forth across the pitch. Malfoy didn't give a toss. He never paid attention to the spectators anyway. He allowed nothing to take his focus off his goal.

His eyes narrowed in ire as he swerved to avoid another player. That was twice he'd avoided a collision. The heavy rain made it almost impossible to see another flyer until they were practically upon each other.

Why Hooch didn't call the game, he didn't know or care. He stood firm in his resolve not to let anything come between him and the Snitch. Glimpsing the winged ball in flight ahead, he leaned into a turn to intercept it. Reaching out, he could almost grasp it, until he was sideswiped.

Draco's muscles flexed as he struggled to remain seated. A flash of lightning illuminated the other player's red hair as she reeled from the impact, lost her grip, and fell. The Snitch hovered nearby, but he never hesitated. Leaning flat against the broomstick, he dove for the girl. Streaking downward, Draco grabbed Ginny. He yelled, "Hold on!"

Arms straining, he pulled up to make a tough but safe landing.

Shivering with Ginny, the roar of the crowd finally registered. Harry Potter had caught the Snitch and Gryffindor had won the match.

"What were you thinking, Malfoy? You were so close to the Snitch. Why didn't you let a Gryffindor save their Chaser?"

Montague might have been memory charmed into a barely-tolerable human being, but he was still a bastard. Draco gazed into Ginny's eyes while saying fiercely, "To hell with the Snitch, and to hell with you too if you think a bloody game's more important than her life."

On the way back to the changing room, the icy rainfall seemed warm to the boy who was still glowing from the look on Ginny's face. Her expression said that while Draco had lost the Snitch, he won something far more precious.

Later, he sat elegantly attired at a table, negligently watching the lights twinkle beyond the 'restaurant' balcony in the Room of Requirement. The view was amazingly realistic. If he'd been a Weasley, he might have spit over the railing to see if it would hit someone passing beneath. He wasn't, so Draco had to make do with smirking over the idea.

"It's beautiful. Is that the Eiffel Tower?"

"It is...and it's not half as beautiful as you are tonight."

Red hair in a simple upsweep made Draco long to sink his fingers into its softness, but he could wait. He kissed Ginny's hand and seated her, letting his fingertips trail over the nape of her neck after pushing in her chair.

Brown eyes shining with delight over the food and the atmosphere—and him, of course—made the time fly. Swaying with Ginny out on the balcony after dinner, springtime in Paris had never seemed so magical. The enchantment had nothing to do with the surroundings and everything to do with the girl smiling up at him.

He'd been forced to rough up two of his teammates after the game. Good thing he'd learned to fight Muggle-style. Shouting down the team using vocabulary that would've made his father proud, he'd got them to fall in line and look on the bright side. Gryffindor House would never live down a Slytherin saving one of their own. To him, it was a win-win situation.

Draco bent to whisper in Ginny's ear, "What token does a Black Knight receive for saving a Fair Maiden?"

Soft lips traced a path from his cheek to his mouth. Long, sweet kisses followed. Finally allowing his fingers pull out the pins keeping up silky hair, the Black Knight realized that holding his Fair Maiden in his arms was more than he deserved, but all the reward he needed.

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A/N: So glad everyone seems to love Shakespeare as much as me! Couldn't just stick to Much Ado, although I love it...too much good Bard to borrow! lol. Yes, I took the mythological Cassandra, daughter of King Priam of Troy - the chick who was cursed by Apollo to prophesy what would not be believed because she wouldn't sleep with him and used her for Blaise's Lydia- like roommate (Remember the Lydia character in Beetlejuice? I liked her style in the movie and the cartoon! lol Getting to put character types I like in stories is one of my favourite author perks!) If you liked her or anything else too, Review!