A/N: Thank you to everyone who is still following this story. I hope that you enjoy this next installment. Bit of a cliffy, but it shouldn't be too long until my next update. TTFN, Shadow

P.S. As usual, my disclaimer for all stories can be found on my bio page.

Draco stood in the hallway facing his former minions. Former, because he had a feeling that they had outgrown the minion phase. Furthermore, he was beginning to get a picture of just who was behind this growth.

Goyle was looking at him very seriously. "Drake, what is going on with you?"

Draco winced at the nickname, but didn't say anything. Goyle and Crabbe had known him since birth. Draco had grown out of the nickname, but Goyle had never grown out of calling him that.

"What do you mean?" he said coldly—more coldly than he had intended. Goyle took it in stride, knowing Draco better than almost anyone, except maybe Pansy. Crabbe just shook his head in amusement.

"The way you're trying to win Ginny—I—well…frankly it's pathetic mate." Goyle looked apologetic, but firm.

Crabbe chimed in. "You're usually a little better at this sort of thing. Your attempts seem to lack finesse. It's like you're trying to play pranks on her rather than get her to like you."

Draco scowled. His housemates backed up slightly.

Well, at least that's something. They still know not to get on my bad side.

He arched an elegant eyebrow at them. "Since when are you on a first name basis with a Weasley?"

Both Crabbe and Goyle looked startled and then sheepish. Improved they might be, but they still were no match for Draco.

Draco looked at his oldest companions. Really, they weren't all bad aside from needing a little more patience to deal with than most people. He decided not to kill them. For the moment.

"I've been taking advice from an undisclosed and apparently completely unreliable source, as well as Pansy and Blaise. For some reason I simply don't know what to do when I'm not playing by the rules of the game."

"Game?"

Dear Crabbe. How I've missed that completely imbecilic expression. At least not everything changes.

"It's something Pansy and I came up with to occupy our time when we first began to really notice the opposite sex. We decided to compete against each other…sort of divide and conquer. I would see how many girls I could seduce and she would see how many boys would fall for her little schemes. We came up with rules—never get emotionally involved, first base doesn't count—things like that. I've never had a problem with the rules, or the game until now, although my interest had already flagged considerably. I haven't had a target at all for the last two months."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair distractedly before he realized what he was doing and quickly smoothed out the damage he had caused.

"Unfortunately, I seem to actually be breaking several of the rules currently—first and foremost the one about never getting emotionally involved. Ginny is…well. Let's just say I've never felt that I've met my equal before." He smirked without realizing it.

Goyle groaned. "First of all Drake, Ginny won't be impressed with how immodest you are."

Draco paused and considered for a second. "Yes, I suppose that did sound a bit arrogant didn't it? Malfoys do tend to be naturally self-confident." He looked unrepentant.

Crabbe snickered. "What an interesting way of putting things. You're the only person I know who could be arrogant about your arrogance."

Goyle sighed. "Listen. Just do the same things you usually do to win women—be charming, give her meaningful gifts, flirt—just actually be sincere about it. If you think she's special then give her the consideration of actually getting to know you. Even your faults and quirks."

Draco sniffed. "Malfoys do not have faults or quirks—"

"So singing incredibly off pitch in the shower is not a quirk?" Goyle commented.

Crabbe gave him a conspiratorial glance. "I don't know about that Goyle, although I believe sleeping with a stuffed plush snake would be considered a quirk."

There was a giggle behind them. Draco, who had been rapidly turning white with indignation, now actually blushed and turned around slowly.

Shit.

Ginny was standing behind him in an alcove, brown eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. She had obviously been standing almost the entire discussion.

Draco turned around to vent his embarrassment on his cronies, but their new training had enabled them to detect a dangerous situation and they had executed a strategic retreat.

When Draco turned back, Ginny was about four inches away from him. She had moved up behind him.

"I like quirks. I still sleep with a stuffed kneazle." She smiled at him. Considering that it was the first time she had done so without it being completely at his expense, he ran with it.

"I like muggle country music."

Ginny took Draco's arm. "Tell me more."

"I'm allergic to cotton."

"So that's why you insist…well I've heard things from your former—conquests. What else?"

"I really have a thing for redheads." This was whispered close to Ginny's ear. Draco's breath stirred the hair on her neck and she shivered.

"Tell me just one more thing for now and I'll forgive you and let you have a chance." She glanced up at him coyly through her lashes and Draco's breath caught. He found himself nodding without realizing it. "Who was the undisclosed source who was giving you such bad advice?"

Draco sighed in defeat. "Fred and George. They sent me a letter this morning informing me that you would really prefer to have no hair at all and enclosed the spell that I should use. They said that doing so would not fail to catch your attention."

Ginny looked at him in shock before bursting out laughing. After a moment, the corner of Draco's mouth twitched. After two moments, a grin escaped. Then he went so far as to chuckle. Ginny's laughter was contagious.

She smiled at him in a way that made him forget that Malfoys never felt weak in the knees and gently brushed her lips across his. His grey eyes widened and he was suddenly very glad that Pansy was still in the Great Hall. She would be furious when she found out that Draco had quit the game forever just because of a chaste brush of the lips with a Gryffindor.

>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>

In a quiet corner of the dungeons, two first year Slytherins cowered in fear. They had not yet learned to completely cover it up, but very few would have been able to had they been facing the creature before them.

Her eyes tapering into slits of alarmingly glowing violet, Pansy very very calmly inquired "And then he did what?"

One of the first years squeaked as the other fainted dead away.