Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me (except the plot), but to J K Rowling.

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy was sitting alone, drinking a cup of tea. He was also gazing at the Weaslette. He seemed to be losing his touch with her. Only this morning he had bumped into her and her bag split. The opportune moment for a snide comment about her family's poverty. But instead of the usual fiery come back, she smiled at him. Things were definitely wrong in the world.

Just then his musings were interrupted. The morning post had arrived and a small, highly excitable owl had landed in his tea.

"Bloody hell!" he swore as it splashed all over his legs. Grabbing the tiny owl, he tore the letter from its leg and told it in no uncertain terms where to go. Unrolling the parchment, he noted the elegant handwriting before starting to read.

Draco Malfoy,

I am a budding artist and I very much admire your face. It has a beautiful bone structure. My surroundings have little to offer in the way of beauty and so I should very much like to draw it. If you agree to model for me, meet me in the empty charms room at 8 o'clock this evening.

An admirer

Draco smiled. He thought he had gone through all his admirers, but evidently not. As he absent-mindedly mopped up the spilt tea with the parchment, he considered the offer. A chance to model for a budding artist. It appealed to him. After all, he had only ever been painted by famous artists before, and only at his father's request. This could be the chance that he had been looking for all year.



Ginny watched him as Pigwidgeon arrived at his table. She knew exactly what was in the parchment that he was reading. After all, she had written it.

She grimaced inwardly. It had taken a great deal of self-discipline to write that letter. What it said may have been true, but it still pained her to tell him so. She did not want his already oversized head getting any bigger or it would never fit on a single page.

She sighed, gathered her things and stood up. It would not do for him to get too suspicious or he would never come, so she moved off the first lesson of the day.



Malfoy waited in charms room. It was 8:05 already and his admirer was late. He shifted, growing impatient, and moved over to the window.

It was calm outside; the lake was frozen and the entire scene was blanketed in snow. He didn't like winter. It reminded him too much of himself, and besides it made the dungeons cold. He shook his head. There was only one thing to mar the white landscape, and that was the black-robed student hurrying along the path. He took in the flaming hair and growled low in his throat.

The Weaslette.

The one smear on his otherwise perfect existence. The Gryffindor Dream Team and their little tag-along chum. They were so stupid and yet the envy of the entire school. What did he have to do to get a little attention? After all, he was just as good as Potter, better even. Nonetheless he was still second best. He fumed.



Ginny crept into the charms room. She was a little surprised to see Malfoy staring daggers at the floor, but it was no business of hers what he did in his spare time. But, still, a little baiting never did anyone any harm…

"If looks could kill, eh?" she said, smirking slightly. He jumped at the sound of her voice and glanced up, the anger on his face evident.

"Weaslette," he sneered. "If you don't mind, I have an urgent appointment and it would not do to have someone like you interrupting it."

Ginny smiled. She reached for her book bag and took out a sketchpad and some artists pencils. "A meeting that would require these, would you say?" She felt gratified when his expression wavered, but it his sneer was quickly back in place.



Draco started.

She was the one who wanted to draw him? That was very worrying. But it was something no one would expect, he mused, his father especially. He could turn it to his advantage. Plus, Potter and Weasley would hate it. He could kill two birds with one stone.

"Really?" he smiled condescendingly. "The littlest Weasel wants to draw me? I think this calls for a celebration. Should we get champagne, or would you not be able to afford it?"

She smiled back. Damn. He had forgotten that he could no longer get her to flush red with indignation. Well, he would get her to blush some other way.

"Yes, I'd like to draw you, but that doesn't mean I want to talk to you." She said, interrupting his thoughts.

"A pity, as there are so many things I would like to say to you." He drawled.

"And none of them nice." She retorted. She glared at him. His spirits rose. He hadn't lost his touch after all. "Look, Malfoy, I came here to draw you, not to match wits with the most infuriating person I have ever met."

"Such sweet words," he said, mockingly, "And just how would I go about returning the favour? With words? Or with deeds?"

"Well, 'Dragon of Ill Faith', it would have to be with deeds, since your words are so bitter." She fluttered her eyelashes at him scornfully and his stomach tightened. For the first time since he had met her, he looked over Ginny Weasley properly. He saw past the red hair that hung in soft ringlets down her back, and noticed the smooth pink lips and the big brown eyes that blinked nervously under his gaze. Ginny Weasley was beautiful. Not drop dead gorgeous, but beautiful and vibrant. This could be the easiest thing I've ever had to do, he thought to himself.

"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." He said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. When the silence continued, he looked up at her and said, "Roughly translated, it means 'never provoke a sleeping dragon'. Don't you know the school motto?"

As she continued to look at him blankly, he sighed and crossed the divide between them swiftly. He paused before her, looking intensely into her eyes as if searching for permission in their depths. He sighed again and kissed her.