Summary: 11 August- Happy Birthday, Ginny! Here's your present. Another D/G scene, and wands don't seem to be the only things shooting off sparks (Wink wink). Ginny learns the basic theories of Freud the hard way and, in a feat almost too incredible for words, manages to stick both feet in her mouth. Meanwhile, Draco whines and throws insults in his typically charming way. Not so typically, he finds that not every Weasley is completely repugnant. Is he serious, or just setting the stage for a sneaky plan of his?

Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling owns them all (but it's fun to pretend, isn't it?).

A/N: Many thanks to my betas, Evil Red Guava (I chuckle at your name every time; it's like visual happiness) and Paige. You guys rock. I know Draco is slighty OC, but I don't care. He's MUCH more fun this way. And I promise to put him back as snarky and petty as ever. Check out the bottom of the page for individual goodies and a teaser of what's to come in the next few chapters. I'm happily shocked (I admit it, I jumped around and squealed in delight when I saw all the reviews.) at how many people were nice enough to click the purple button at the bottom. Much love to you all!


Chapter Three: Head Games

"Stop being so petulant, Mr Malfoy! The first years whine less than you do. Now drink that potion!"

Ginny entered the hospital wing to see Madam Pomfrey standing at the foot of a curtained-off bed, her arms akimbo.

"But it smells vile. Can't I have a glass of pumpkin juice to wash it down with?" came Malfoy's beseeching voice from the other side of the curtains.

"Oh, very well." Madam Pomfrey glared sternly at the bed. "You'll take your medicine then and be done with it?"

"Yes."

"Fine." She pushed the beaker of medicine at him and stalked away, presumably for the pumpkin juice.

Ginny walked over to the area Malfoy's whining was emitting from, edged around the curtains, and dumped his things into the chair next to the bed. "Well, here you are. Hope that's everything, because if it's not, you're flat out of luck." She turned toward the bed to say goodbye. "I..."

Malfoy was propped up in the bed, braced against a mound of pillows, hair wildly mussed, bare from the waist up except for a swath of bandaging around the upper right portion of his chest. She stared, absently noting the crinkly blond hair arrowing down his belly and disappearing beneath the bed-sheets.

Funny, I always pictured him as the hairless sort. Well, not actually pictured. More a passing thought, really. But the view is rather nice, no?

Aargh! Stop it! No more thoughts about Malfoy as a human being, let alone a male. Got it?

You know, he's not nearly as scrawny and anemic-looking as Ron paints him. No denying he's lean, but no more so than Harry. Athletic is the word I'm looking for.

Stop! Please! No more of this!

Sleek. Kind of nice, not all big and hulky like that pillock of an ex of mine, Dean; in fact, I'd say he's almost good-looking. Big heavy-lidded grey eyes, sharp, widely-spaced cheekbones, nose straight as a knife blade, lips just made for-

ENOUGH! My brain! Get out, or shut up, or something!

I said almost handsome, didn't I? Not really, but there's something there. And stop with the yelling, it's irritating. By the by, seeing as how I am you, that makes this our brain. Not yours. I'm the id, the 'inner Ginny', for lack of a better name.

Oh, really? Well then, inner Ginny, who am I?

You're 'conscience Ginny'. The superego.

The what?

The superego. The stick-in-the-mud who tries to ruin all of my fun.

And who, precisely, is the one breathing?

That's Ginny, you gormless cow. She's the whole package. We are part of her unconscious.

A slight pause. Oh.

Ginny stood there, staring at a mostly naked boy she had always thought of as her enemy, and realised that all he was wearing under the sheet was a pair of trousers. Her stomach began to do very strange things.

"Weasley? Hullo, Weasley, welcome back to reality. Having trouble resisting my charms?" Malfoy smirked, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

You have no idea, cupcake. Actually, I was wondering why you don't seem to own certain undergarments. Must get a bit draughty playing quidditch.

STOP. Oh shit. There was an interesting piece of imagery. "No! I was just thinking about why you don't ... erm, I mean when I was gathering your things, I couldn't find any, er ... never mind." Oh. Bloody. Hell. Come on Ginny, think before you open your mouth.

Malfoy looked at her appraisingly for a long moment, a predatory smile gliding over his features. Softly, he asked, "Would you like to know why you couldn't find any?"

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey came bustling back at that moment, glass in hand. Ginny heaved a sigh of relief, thanking whatever higher power that gave the nurse such fabulous timing.

"Here you are, Mr Malfoy. Drink up." Madam Pomfrey looked from her patient to the petite redhead next to him, noting the blush on her cheeks and her downcast eyes. "Miss Weasley, thank you for collecting his things. It was most gracious of you," she said kindly.

Choking noises, followed by a strangled gasp, came from the direction of the bed. "Ugh! Disgusting! What sort of poison WAS that?"

Both women turned to stare at Malfoy, his face twisted into an expression of utter revulsion as he gulped down the entire glass of pumpkin juice.

Madam Pomfrey, quite offended, retorted, "Poison! That is a Flesh-Knitting Potion mixed with a Blood Regenerating Draught, as you very well know! Poison, indeed! Hmph. Not even a thank-you. Now, I'm retiring for the evening." She pointed at Malfoy. "Which means you are as well. Say your goodbyes and be off, Miss Weasley. He needs rest. Good night." She glared at Malfoy a moment longer before turning on her heel and stalking to the end of the ward, where her rooms were.

"I- I hope you feel better, Malfoy. G'night." Ginny had turned away and taken only a few steps when she heard him whisper, as though the word was painful. "Wait."

Ginny paused and turned around, afraid of what he might say next.

"Why did you help me?" he asked seriously, brow furrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth. "What do you want?"

Ginny sighed, suddenly sad in the face of his suspicions. I guess that's what happens when you grow up a Malfoy. "I don't want anything, Malfoy. You may be a rude, nasty git, but you were injured. You needed help."

He shifted, trying to lie down, and she saw him wince in pain. Without thinking about her actions, she moved back to the bed and rearranged the pillows behind him so he could lie back comfortably.

Softly, his voice so low she could barely hear him, he asked, "And do you always help those in need? Even if they are supposed to be your enemies?"

Somehow, his questions sounded dangerous to her ears, laced with some hidden meaning. Ginny shrugged and looked at his face. He was gazing at her with those hooded eyes, seeming to search for something.

He held her eyes captive, piercing the sherry-coloured depths with his shadowed eyes. His voice was still soft and dangerous as he asked his next question. "Need to feel needed, do you?" He paused for one long moment. "I understand you better than you think, Weasley."

What sort of cryptic comment was that? What is he playing at? "I'm a Prefect, Malfoy. It's my job. Good night." He continued to hold her gaze. She felt a light touch against the delicate inside of her wrist. Startled, she looked down at where he had brushed his fingers against her.

"We're not done with this conversation. Not by a long-shot. See you around, Weasley."

Unsettled by his strange behaviour, she whirled round to flee.

Malfoy leant back against his pillows, watching her lithe figure move quickly towards the door. Her coltish walk drew his gaze to her slim legs. He noted how long they seemed for someone as small as she was. He closed his eyes as the door banged shut, a wolfish smile playing about his lips.

He chuckled, thinking of a line from one of his favourite works of literature. 'Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire'. Milton sure knew his redheads.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Malfoy drew his wand. Pointing it at the lamp, Malfoy said a quick Extinguishing Spell and tossed the wand back in the general direction of the table. He readjusted the sheet around him and settled down to sleep. Well, never was one for listening to Mum about dangerous things. Always did try to play with the fire in the drawing room as a child. Thought it would make a pretty pet, if only I could catch it. Those damn burns hurt every time.

"Fire that's closest kept burns most of all." Narcissa's melodious voice floated through his mind, speaking a line from a play she had read to him years ago.

When Draco was young and his father was out on business, his Mum used to take him into the library and let him pick a book for her to read to him. He would wander the room for many minutes, always very careful to choose one they hadn't already read. This was their special time together, when he could sit on her lap and get lost in a story without worrying if his father thought he was being silly and childish. They would sit and read together for hours, and when he was older, they would take turns reading aloud. One of his Mum's favourites was a chap named Shakespeare.

He may have been a Muggle, but the bloke sure knew his women. Blaise is wrong, there's no way that man could have been a poofter.


A/N: The quotes Draco remembers at the end of this chapter are from, respectively: 'Paradise Lost', by John Milton and 'The Two Gentlemen of Verona', by Shakespeare. Two of my personal favourites, I have to admit.

Sneak Preview: Ginny drags Hermione into this little battle of wills and puts a VERY evil plan into motion (Revenge is learned early in a large family of boys, remember.). We meet a snide and oh-so-loveable Blaise, who "accidently" spills the news of Ginny's plan to Draco. Who stomps off, of course. And, since I'm feeling generous (and hopefully the suspense will have you all reading and reviewing like mad!): A seething Draco corners a smug Ginny. Fireworks ensue. Any guesses on what happens? I'd love to hear them! (coughPressthePurpleButtoncough)

Thanks:

Madison27: (hug) You are awesome. And I can trust you to tell me if it sucks, which is something I need. I ramble, ya know? lol :) Plum Blossoms: My other big supporter. Much love to ya; you helped get me to actually let this fic out of our group. (-muses- maybe I'll direct any flames I get to you.) Just kidding. Legolas-Obssesionist: Your poor mum... lmao. As for the undies: dirrty! Okay, maybe I agree with you. But just a tiny bit. seri-chan: (indignant) Dean is not! :) He's just... clumsy. He'll learn. I agree, Salazar is the sh't! "What is your favourite colour?" "Green. No, no! Blue. Aargh!" Napolean: I love the 'woot!' I hereby adopt it. With your permission, of course. And no separating my head from my body. I promise, I'm driving my poor betas crazy with all the work I'm giving them. Much fun is coming your way. Nicole: Here you go, a brand new chappy just for you! Lockeness: I'll take Delusional!Draco over BroodyBadA$$!Draco any day. Much more fun to write. I can only take so much angst before I'm itching for something funny and light. Wanna Huggle Edward Norton: hmm, hipster. I like that word. Caution: Make sure the guy who's hair you're going to rub isn't your family's enemy. It makes life very complicated. sweetjazzbabe: Don't worry. Draco's true colours will shine through. Even writing a humour fic like this, I realise Draco is an arrogant spoilt prat. Not all fluffiness. I swear. ForeverLaDonna: Hehe. You are the only one worried about sweet, accident-prone Dennis (remember the Giant Squid?). I have plans for my bouncy little Gryffindor. (rubs hands together evilly) Chaney: Ha. I agree. Wait. Ha good or Ha bad? NeonBlue21: Thanks for the props. A perfectionist writing fanfic can be an ugly thing. Glad it's not too wordy, like I first thought. Helen88UK: I am now depending upon you to flame me the instant I make a dumb American mistake. I read your bio, my british friend. Haha! Free brit picking! And enjoy your holiday :) Draco's gal: Well, nowhere to go but up, I suppose. Hope you get more into it as the action builds. Minchi: Here it is! The update you demanded. I read your review and promptly sat down to write. I live to serve. :) GypsyJade: Bow before the Monty Python! All hail! (hehehe) I was absolutely tickled that John Cleese is Nearly-Headless Nick. blissfulxsin: Priceless? Wow, that's quite the compliment! Well, the story loves you, too! Saikagrl: Draco, the fount of snotty remarks and almost-witty reparte. I adore it. Dido: Yikes! Expectations! (looks around frantically) Seriously, that's one of the nicest things you could have written. (hug) Thanks! Angel Black1: Laughs are good. You need a few to cheer you up before going to the next angsty fic. Why does everyone want to write angst? More humour, I demand it! :) Kaei: Read the note to Dido. Ditto to you, dearie. A really good one? (big, big hug) And the details are what always snag me in fics, so I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't put them in there. No fear though, I'm not going to morph into Charled Dickens. ;P power of the stars: Yep. I keep getting hung up on that part, too. I promise though, there will be more to this story. aoi-yuki-yume: Laughing is good. It burns calories. So why am I gaining weight while I write this thing?! Oops, probably the carton of Ben and Jerry's next to me. Glad you like the fic. moon-fan-101: Aah. Monty Python does indeed rule. But didn't you like the story? (sniff) Sorry. I'm done feeling neglected now. ;) Snapesmistress005: Sigh. Salazar was a rare stroke of brilliance on my part. I doubt there'll be more anytime soon. So I'll cuddle him for awhile. He'll be back; he's way too much fun to write to be a one-shot... character? statue? -oh well, whatever he is. O-o

Hugs,

Katie (a.k.a. morning's broken angel)