Hey everyone, here's the next chapter. Sorry it's been so long, but school/soccer started so I've been really busy.
Anyway, enjoy this! Please Read/Review, even if you've reviewed before, because I love feedback!
October 13th – 12:45pm – Dining Hall.
Harry hasn't spoken to me, or really anybody, since our argument. In fact, there aren't many people left for him to speak to. Apparently, he got in a row with Ron the other night and Hermione's taken Ron's side. Dean and Seamus are scared to talk to Harry ever since they witnessed his blowout with me, and everyone else avoids him because he's been so surly in general.
We should make up, but there's no way I'm being the one to apologize first.
Anyway, the first Quidditch match of the school year was on Saturday. Hufflepuff versus Slytherin.
I'm also falling hard and fast for Draco (but what else is new?). When I was leaving the Dining Hall that Saturday morning, he pulled me aside, snogged me senseless, then left to change without a word. I was still panting five minutes later, pondering if it had actually happened, as he had come and gone so quickly.
Thirty minutes passed, and I was watching him strut onto the pitch through Hagrid's binoculars. Harry was glaring daggers at me, but I pretended not to notice. Draco was swaggering leisurely across the field, carrying his Nimbus Twenty-Ten Plus. He was laughing with Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, both Chasers. Crabbe and Goyle were nipping at their heels, guffawing as well. They reminded me distinctly of trolls, dragging their clubs along the ground. I watched Draco mount his broom and shoot up into the air, loop-de-looping a few times, receiving a thundering cheer from the Slytherin section.
"Showoff," I heard Harry grumble.
Madam Hooch released the Snitch and Bludgers from the case in the center circle, then hurled the Quaffle into the ring of players. Blaise immediately snatched the Quaffle and made a swift pass to Daphne, who broke away from the scramble that always begins a Quidditch match. I was impressed at her speed, considering she'd only just joined the team this September.
I began to search the sky for Draco. I spotted him hovering high above the Slytherin goalposts, the Hufflepuff Seeker, a young-looking blonde girl I didn't know, floating nearby. He wore a moss-green bandana to keep his hair out of his face, and though I couldn't make out his expression, I knew he was had on the ever-present smirk that always makes me melt into a blubbering heap of inarticulacy.
Before I knew it, Slytherin was leading, 20-10. Ron, who was sitting next to me and noticed I wasn't paying attention to the Chasers, snatched the binoculars from me. He muttered something that sounded like "twitchy ferret" and peered through them himself. He followed Daphne through the round lenses on her third breakaway.
"Blimey, she's quick," Ron commented as she pitched the Quaffle through the goalpost on the far right. "Always aims for the same hoop though," he observed, taking note of this fact on a small piece of parchment.
Twenty minutes went by in a flash. Hufflepuff gained the lead, 80-60. And then, it all happened in about thirty seconds.
A streak of green trailed by a stripe of yellow suddenly caught my eye, and I knew Draco had spied the Snitch. He raced around the edge of the pitch; the speed of his new broom was apparent. But the Hufflepuff Seeker, being much lighter, was gaining on him. By the time they rounded the Hufflepuff posts, they were side by side.
They were drawing nearer to the Gryffindor section. I could make out their outstretched arms and billowing Quidditch robes.
The Hufflepuff Seeker's weight, which was to her advantage when catching up to Draco, ended up being her downfall. Just as the two passed the Gryffindor section, Draco gave her a violent, ungentlemanly shove. She was propelled off course, straight into a Hufflepuff Beater.
Curses flew, and by the time they had disentangled themselves, Draco's feet were planted firmly on the ground. His arm was extended high, two silvery, fluttering wings protruding from his fist.
An earsplitting roar erupted from the Slytherin section. The final score was 210-80.
That evening, Draco snuck up behind me on my way to the common room. I felt his fingertips brush my hipbones; it made me shiver. He turned me to face him and kissed me full on the mouth. One hand in my hair, the other on my waist against my bare skin, his lips parted, and I followed suit. For a good half-minute we stood there, tongue-kissing in the middle of a corridor, his hand under my shirt, my arms hanging dumbly at my sides. I'm surprised I didn't faint.
"Hi," I whispered, dumbfounded, when he pulled away.
Draco smirked. I literally felt weak in the knees.
"Ginny. We're having a party tonight to celebrate the win," he informed me. "I'd love for you to join us."
I immediately felt doubtful.
"I don't know, Draco, I won't really know any—"
"You'll know me," he interrupted, hooking his index fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, drawing me closer. "Please come."
He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me into a tight embrace. I felt convinced.
"I'll be there," I agreed, my voice muffled by the thick fabric of his robes.
"You're the best. Come by our common room at eight. I'll be waiting to let you in."
Well, I didn't know what to expect. But eight o'clock rolled around before I knew it. And Draco was waiting for me outside the Slytherin common room, just like he promised.
"Look at you," he said when I arrived, his eyes wandering from my hair to my legs and back again. I was dressed in a white skirt and an olive-green top, which was a little low cut than I'm usually comfortable with, but I felt it was appropriate for a party (and knowing I'll see Draco makes me want to be a bit... risqué). I wore my hair loose and wavy.
Draco draped a muscular arm across my shoulders and mumbled the password.
The party was already in full throttle.
The Weird Sisters blasted out my eardrums. Some people were around the edges of the room, chatting with drinks in hand. But the majority of the students were dancing up a storm. All the furniture had been cleared away, and the makeshift dance floor was alive with excitement.
Blaise and Daphne were dancing, erm, intimately. Millicent was belting out the words to the song playing while shaking her hair furiously. Pansy was up on a table, holding two drinks. The whole atmosphere was far rowdier than any Gryffindor party, even the ones Fred and George threw when they were still in school.
Draco left my side, but I barely noticed as I was fixed, open-mouthed, on the scene before me. He pinched my side when he returned, holding two butterbeers.
"Drink this, and let's party!" he exclaimed over the noise, handing me a bottle. He opened his own, took a long swig, then grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the dancing mob. We found a small space to dance amongst all the grinding couples.
At first, we weren't dancing very close. He only had his free hand on my hip.
I cracked open my butterbeer and brought the bottle to my lips. I drank deeply, as I was already sweating from the intensity of the room. It tasted different, more bitter, than what I was used to. I squinted against the low light, trying to read the label.
'5 percent alcohol by volume.'
Draco noticed me staring at the bottle.
"It's the best kind!" he shouted, giving me the thumbs-up. He'd already finished his own.
I smiled back at him. My head was pounding from the music, and it felt okay. I took another sip. What could one drink do?
Well, it turned out to be more than one drink. All the dancing was making me so hot, leaving my mouth dry. I drank three bottles during our first twenty minutes of dancing. I lost count of how many Draco put away.
And suddenly, we were much closer. Our bodies were pressed together. He clutched my hips, and my hands were up the back of his shirt. His skin was moist with sweat. I was feeling much more daring, highly spontaneous. I started kissing his neck. He placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head back. We danced for another twenty minutes, snogging all the while, pausing only to guzzle down more butterbeer.
Eventually, I was too exhausted to dance any more. I told Draco I wanted to sit down. We started toward one of the couches that had been pushed against a wall, weaving through the crowd. Draco had his arm around my shoulders, but he was leaning on me heavily, as if he couldn't stay upright without support.
Feeling dopey, I collapsed on the couch. My head hung to the side and I couldn't seem to stop smiling.
"I'll get y'another drink, Ginny," Draco said, his words strung together. "Jus' wait 'ere."
He stumbled over to the fireplace and started talking to Blaise. Draco looked over his shoulder at me, then turned back to Blaise. They were both laughing.
I let my head flop to my other shoulder. The room sort of went all fuzzy, becoming a blur of light and color, and then came into focus again. I snickered for no reason.
Draco strode drunkenly back to me. He tripped a bit on the edge of the carpet and landed on the couch next to me. Laughing at himself, he handed me another butterbeer. My tongue and throat were parched, so I chugged half the bottle.
"Y'enjoyin' yourself?" Draco slurred, placing a hand on my thigh.
I giggled automatically and took another sip.
"I am, Draco," I answered. I was surprised that I had to struggle to keep my voice clear.
"I knew y'would," he drawled, sounding sleepy, before polishing off another bottle. I finished mine too.
I honestly don't remember what happened after that. I recall more drinking and a whole lot of kissing. Somehow, I made it back to my dormitory, but woke up the next morning with my head at the foot of my bed and my feet on the pillow.
Draco wasn't at breakfast, but I saw him on the grounds later with his Slytherin mates. He was looking pretty miserable. His hair was sticking up in places and he had dark circles under his eyes. I noticed that he winced and brought his hand to his temple whenever Pansy let out a shriek of laughter. Yet he brightened a bit when he saw me, and we spent most of the afternoon together.
I'm not quite sure how to feel about the party. I've never drunk more than a sip of alcoholic butterbeer, let alone had so much that I don't remember what happened after a certain time. But is drinking really very wrong? I feel a little guilty now, but it was all right at the time. I enjoyed myself. What's the problem with that?
This sounds silly. But being with Draco kind of makes me want to be bad. When I'm with him, I'm not the Little Sister. I'm the grown-up sixteen-year-old, the one that's sick of being branded as 'innocent'. The one that drinks alcoholic butterbeer and lets her boyfriend put his hands all over her.
It feels good to break out of what's expected of me.
It feels good to be bad.
Until next time,
Ginny