Draco watched her go, sneering. It was so easy to get under her skin, almost as easy asroiling upher brother. Although, there were certain advantages to riling up the Weaselette… such as the way her eyes narrowed and her hips swung deliciously whenever she stormed away. Don't get him wrong, he didn't like the trashy bit of filth, per say, but as a male he was certainly not immune to obvious female assets.
Nor did he have any wish to be in the very near future.
Leaning back on two legs of his chair, Draco was just about ready to settle down for a nap when something at the other end of the table caught his eye. One of Weaselette's love notes? Curious, the seventeen-year old leaned forward and grabbed hold of the scrap of parchment, scanning it quickly.
"What the hell―?" Draco sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. A book title was written on the parchment in loose but careful handwriting; he knew it instantly to be Ginny's. How did she know about that book? He wondered silently. And more importantly, why in hell's name did she want anything to do with it?
"Hey Gin-bug, pass down the rolls?"
Ginny looked up from her breakfast, rolled her eyes, and handed the basket of bread to Ron. Really, he must have a hole in his toe or something, as there was nowhere else the food he consumed seemed to be going.
She watched bemusedly as her brother stuffed an entire piece of bread in his mouth and reached for another, only to be stopped quickly by Hermione's disapproving glance. Lord, when was the girl going to figure it out that Ron was head-over-heels for her? Hermione was smart, but give her a situation like a boy lusting after her and she was painfully oblivious.
Chewing a bite of waffle, Ginny listened half-heartedly to the trio's conversation. Most of her other friends were off finishing up what they termed to be Snape's worst homework yet; she hadn't had any trouble with it, and had therefore finished it a few nights ago.
"Anyway, I was thinking that maybe tonight would be the night to―" Harry broke off from his suddenly conspiratorial whisper to glance at Ginny, before saying meaningfully, "To do it." This time all three of them sneaked a look at Ginny, who pretended to be fully engaged in her meal. The trio gallivanting off to Hermione's Head Girl room to do whatever they planned during meals was not uncommon; they did it at least once every two weeks.
And no, it wasn't that.
Although she had no real interest in exactly what it was they were doing, Ginny kept listening. If they were indeed staying in Hermione's room for the night, then they wouldn't need Harry's Invisibility Cloak― a perfect time for her to put her own plans of sneaking out into action.
"Same place?" she heard Ron whisper as they finally drew apart from their not-so-discreet huddle in the middle of the Great Hall. Really, she would have to think of a polite way to suggest to her brother that next time they planned something potentially illegal, they shouldn't be so obvious about it.
"Gin, I think I'm feeling a bit ill," said Ron loudly. Harry nodded his agreement, trying to paste a nauseous look on his face. "I might stay the night at the infirmary." The youngest Weasley barely contained the urge to roll her eyes at the two's attempts to cover up their plans. She only hoped Hermione wasn't going to act as dense as them; the occurrence would signal the beginning of the apocalypse. Really, how stupid did they think the rest of the table was?
Ginny knew her jaw must have hit the table when a few of the Gryffindors distantly offered their apologies and a few get-wells, before resuming their consumption of breakfast.
Maybe Ron was right in assuming that their house was a bunch of gullible imbeciles.
Turning back to her now-empty plate, Ginny mulled over the details of her plan ―in her opinion, much more discreetly than the three who had just left the table.
Harry and Ron would be out of their dorm tonight, although she couldn't vouch for the other seventh-year boys. She would just have to risk sneaking in to get Harry's Invisibility Cloak after the rest of them were asleep. Hopefully, they all slept like logs―
―Ginny was willing to bet that if they had gotten to sleep with Ron's snores for almost seven years, they most probably did.
The issue of getting into the library was not a problem, as Filch locked the doors from the inside at around ten o'clock. All she had to do was get in there no later than ten of ten, as she would prefer not to run into Filch (or more specifically that damn cat of his) if she could help it.
She still didn't know whether the bloody feline could see through Invisibility Cloaks or not.
Once she was in, it was a simple process of a silencing charm and raising the catch to the Restricted Section, and she'd have all the time in the world. Pity the Marauder's Map had long since disappeared from the Golden Trio's clutches; it could have really helped her.
Stretching, Ginny came slowly back into reality, and realized with a certain amount of disgust that she had been staring at the Slytherin table during her space-out. Ignoring Zabini, who was making eyes at her (no doubt due to her traitorous gaze's wanderings during space-cadet mode), the redhead brushed off her skirt and strode briskly out of the Great Hall.
"Nox." Ginny's face disappeared as the light extinguished, leaving her to stride up the stairs to the boys' dorm in darkness. If they were anything like the girls', the seventh year's rooms would be at the very end of the hall. Padding down the carpeted passage, the redhead slowly pushed open the door and slipped in.
She sighed with relief as Neville's snores met her ears; she had been correct in her assumptions about the similar dorms. As she stepped carefully along the wall, Ginny searched for Harry's trunk. It was at the end of his bed, and she noted with some amount of scorn that the catch was undone; no doubt he had simply not bothered to lock it.
This is what you get for being careless, Ginny thought with contempt before casting a quick silencing charm on the hinges; he probably didn't bother to grease his trunk properly either. Lifting the lid, Ginny moved aside a pile of socks and chocolate frogs to grope around the bottom of the chest. There. She pulled out the liquid-like material, letting it flow through her fingers like cooled water.
Quickly pulling it the rest of the way out, something hard unraveled from inside the cloak and hit the bottom of the chest with a decidedly loud thunk. Ginny froze, horrified, as a rustling sound came from one of the beds.
" Harry? S'at you?" a voice said groggily.
Not daring to even breath, Ginny waited a few painstaking seconds as the rustles grew louder, then subsided. She peered cautiously around the corner of Harry's bedpost, and saw a form snuggling back under its covers. Phew.
Not about to take any more chances, the redhead threw the cloak over her shoulders and padded stealthily out of the room. Only when she was safely down in the common room did Ginny light her wand back up again, using it to check the time.
Shit. Five minutes to get down there before Filch.
Racing across the carpet, Ginny pushed open the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's disapproving banter about after hours and racing as quietly as she could to the library. Down the hall and two sets of stairs, left turn and another set… Jumping down the last four stairs, she skidded to a stop in front of the library's oaken doors, panting and somewhat out of breath. Stiffening, Ginny saw the yellow glow of Filch's lantern and quickly slipped through into the library, wincing as the hinges creaked a bit.
"'Oo's there?"
Ginny could hear the ragged breathing of the man through the door, and stepped back from the door hastily as Filch's hand entered with a key.
"We'll just lock up, my pet, and then we'll be going in."
Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Ginny resisted the urge to tap her foot while his hand groped for the lock and found it, turning the metal almost painfully slowly. She waited until his footsteps died away before turning to the gate of the Restricted Section.
These hinges was bound to creak, as so few people went in it these days, so Ginny muttered another silencing spell over them and carefully eased up the catch of the gate, before sliding between the two forbidding bars of iron.
Book title in mind, the redhead walked slowly down the darkened row, letting the Invisibility Cloak slither off her shoulders and onto the floor. She would pick it up on her way out.
"Beasts and Demons… Greenwich burnings… Uses of Poplar…" Ginny went down the row of books, squinting to read the titles. "Sorcerers of Old… Spells… Su― aha!" The redhead pressed her trembling finger to the spine of the book, muttering the incantation to keep from tripping the screaming charm. Pulling it gently off the shelf, Ginny sat down where she was and took the tome in her lap.
"Summonsing of the Thirde Dark Age." She read the title almost reverently, shivering at the contorted face that was trapped between the cover of the book, shrieking soundlessly at her. Yes, this was a Dark book all right. However dangerous it was, it was the only thing that could help her. Tom wouldn't believe her to have this much resolve.
Gingerly opening the cover, Ginny gave an audible breath of relief as she saw that there were no more entities trapped within the pages, like the one on the cover. It would be hard enough reading without twisted faces leering at her from every piece of parchment.
She turned to the table of contents, scanning the list quickly. "Summonsing of the Demones, page one-hundred sixty-two." Well, that was straightforward enough. Flipping countless pages, Ginny was distracted for a moment by the way the ink shimmered in the moonlight, all hues of teal and blue and aqua.
"I wonder what they wrote this with," she murmured to herself, running her fingers over the pages.
"Demon blood."
Ginny only had time to let loose the beginnings of a scream before a slim pale hand was clapped over her mouth.
"Lmphlgmph!" the redhead gave a muffled shriek of indignation, her voice stifled by the hand. A deep cacophony of laughter echoed down the row of books.
"Tsk tsk, a Weaselette out of bed," the voice said silkily.
Ginny's eyes widened in comprehension, then anger. "Mmphl!" Seeing that the hand was not about to be removed, she opened her mouth and bit down. Hard.
"Yeow! Gods woman, what are you, a bloody vampire?"
Ginny just glared at him, her mind racing wildly through plans of escape. To be caught after hours, in the Restricted Section, by the Head Boy, who happened to be Malfoy, of all people… she cursed herself vehemently.
"You should warn people before you do that," Draco said, shaking his hand out. "Now I'm probably infected."
"Good."
Raising his eyebrows and smirking, the Slytherin replied, "I don't think you're in a situation to be difficult right now Weaselette. You see, under the circumstances, I can get you expelled."
Ginny suddenly felt a cold, squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach that slowly spread to her chest, hands, and toes. Oh no, this was not good… expelled… the word doused her like a bucket of ice-water. Kicked out… all of her O.W.L.S gone to waste, not even any N.E.W.T.S yet, her mother… her mother. Her mother would kill her. Or her brother, if he found out before mum… she would have to live in the Forbidden Forest to escape them all―
"I see you realize the state of affairs." Draco watched with mild interest as Ginny's face paled rapidly.
"So?" Ginny blanched as her voice came out in a squeak, much to the older boy's amusement. Clearing her throat, she spat out with a bit more gusto, "How'd you find me anyway?"
Draco pulled a tattered piece of parchment from the pocket of his cloak.
"The Marauder's Map!" Ginny gave him a seething look. "Harry and Ron have been looking for that for ages, you thief!"
"I did not steal it," Draco hissed, his demeanor turning cold. "I don't need to steal from anyone. Your precious Harry was careless enough to leave it sitting in the Prefect's bathroom, all alone and unattended. How he was stupid enough to do so, I have no idea, I don't spend my time trying to figure out the way the fucking idiot's mind works, but believe me when I say that it has proven… more than useful."
Ginny spluttered in indignant rage, grabbing her book and shoving it under one arm. "Fine, keep it for all I care! Now if you will excuse me…" The redhead made a move to step past Draco, and collided firmly with his chest. "Move."
"You're forgetting something, Weaselette." Draco's icy eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I found you here, and therefore I can get you expelled. Do you really think I'm going to keep my mouth shut?"
Ginny glared murderously at him. "What do you want?" she ground out through her teeth, gripping her book with white knuckles.
"Well for starters, you can tell me what in the seven names of hell you need that for," he said, pointing to the object under her arm. It was something he had been wondering for days, ever since he had seen its title written down in Ginny's careful handwriting. "That's one of the darkest books on summonsing; you shouldn't even know about it."
"And you should? It's none of your fucking business what I do with this book, ferret," she spat.
"Touchy. Don't use that language with me Weasel, you're not in the best of positions to do so." He regarded her with liquid mercury eyes, a smirk spreading slowly across his face. "Well then, if you won't tell me… you will be my personal slave for the remainder of the school year."
"Oh, no. Oh hell fucking no. What do you think I am, a fucking laundry maid?" Ginny could feel her grip on her temper slip further away, and tried desperately to hold on. He did have the evidence to get her expelled, damn it, and it wasn't going to help her situation any if she launched herself off the floor and tried to smash his face in. Tantalizing though the idea was…
"No, actually." Draco smirked again. "I think you're a very stupid little girl to get caught by me."
"I didn't ask you to follow me with that damn map, ferret-face."
"Quite right." He brushed her comment off with an airy wave of the hand. "So, what's it going to be? The book? Or serving my enlightened self for the rest of the year?" He studied her face intently, the picture of polite curiosity.
Polite my ass, Ginny thought crossly, feeling the need to rub her temples. She couldn't tell him about Tom, she couldn't. Besides, he would probably run home to tell daddy dearest, who would in turn run and tell Tom. And then, her plan would be useless.
"Servitude," Ginny muttered, not meeting his eyes. She would just have to stick it out; it was better serving the bloody prick for a measly year than serving a lifetime for Tom, which is what would happen if her plan didn't work. "Servitude."
Had the redhead looked up, she would have seen a flicker of surprise pass through Draco's usually cool and detached face. What was so important that she chose slaving away to him for a year over revealing it? Draco's curiosity, he hated to admit, was roused. He would get the information out of the chit eventually; after all, he did have the entire year… oh, he was going to love rubbing this in.
"What's that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you." He watched gleefully as her face contorted with rage.
"I said, servitude," she bit out grudgingly.
"Ah now, that's not the attitude of a faithful servant." Draco let his eyes roam over her form appreciatively, long slim legs, perfectly sized breasts… he allowed her to notice his inspection, smirking as she quickly readjusted her robes to cover her nightclothes.
"What exactly does this servitude include?" Ginny asked suspiciously, wary of his wandering eyes.
Draco smirked. "Well, the usual, of course; cleaning my room, serving me when I don't feel like going down for meals, a bit here, a bit there…"
"Nothing… nasty."
"That's a very general word Miss Weasley, what you define as nasty may not be my interpretation of the acts involved."
"Nothing even remotely sexual is what I meant, you bastard."
Draco's eyes gleamed. "Come now, Weasley, I have needs―"
"Yeah, well, find some other little slut to― to do whatever the hell it is you do. I'll be you're laundry maid, but I refuse to be your whore. Bastard."
"Perhaps…" the seventeen-year old mused, and appeared to ponder something before snapping back to attention. "Oh, and I'll have you know, Weaselette, my parents were a perfectly legal couple when I was born, so if you would refrain from using the term bastard?"
Ginny thought of something else. "And nothing that involves compromising my game on the Quidditch field. I'm not going to play like shit just because you tell me to."
"Fine, fine." Draco flapped his hand impatiently. "I wouldn't need you to do that anyway in order for me to win. Now, let's see about a binding contract. If you would repeat after me? 'I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, vow to be Draco Malfoy's faithful slave for the remainder of this Hogwarts school year, performing any act which he deems necessary, and should I dare to disobey him, he reserves all rights to make known her nighttime wandering into the Restricted Section of said school's library'."
A muscle twitched in Ginny's face; she wondered if it was possible to break a tooth from clenching one's jaw too hard. Probably. "Do you just memorize these things? The way you spit that out, I'd think you made this a common occurrence." From the look Draco gave her, she hastily swallowed. Maybe she should just not think about that.
"Time, Weaselette, I do plan on sleeping sometime tonight."
Glaring murderously at his bored-looking visage, the redhead ground out, "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, vow to be Draco Malfoy's faithful slave for the remainder of this Hogwarts school year, performing any act which he deems necessary, and should I dare to disobey him, he reserves all rights to make known her nighttime wandering into the Restricted Section of said school's library." Scowling, Ginny refused to look at him, and what she was sure was an infuriatingly smug gaze.
"Ah now, we can't have that. Faithful, remember?" He grabbed her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at his eyes. Charcoal met stormy gray-blue for a moment, before the redhead looked stubbornly away.
"Never said anything about willingness," Ginny muttered, surprising a chuckle out of him.
"Well, I'll school you in deference to your master another time," he answered, smirking. "I expect you to be down at breakfast seven-thirty sharp. We will be dining at my table of preference, of course." Draco stood up and walked towards the exit.
"Seven― seven thirty? Fuck no, there is no way in hell―"
"Pity, really. Without you there to monitor me, I might just, ah, let something slip."
Ginny scowled. "Point taken."
Draco stopped in front of the door and turned slightly, the moonlight defining his sculpted features and making his silvery blond hair seem to glow. "Oh, and Weasley? Do try and make yourself presentable. I would hate to have to school you in appearance as well as respect."
He strode out the door, leaving Ginny to mutter strangled curses after him from the darkened library.
Well? Do you like it? I was so happy getting reviews, people, seriously, you have no idea.
Thanks to jjp91(thanx!),xnewfiexmuttx(yeah, I'm sorry. Feel free to make any suggestions mine forgot to make, though!), dementorchic (heh, okies!) and Cinderalli (yes, well I suppose you're right...)
Oh, and if anyone wants to rant with me about Half-Blood Prince, put up a review with your email, and I will gladly rant to you XD... I don't know if anyone else has finished it yet... probably not, as there have not yet been any attempts on Ms. Rowling's life yet.
Toodles!
Well? Do you like it? I was so happy getting reviews, people, seriously, you have no idea.