A/N: Feel free to leave any ideas for the story you might have, anything you'd like to see – I tend to have spotty muse, so anything that gets my brain going is greatly appreciated! And I will be sure to credit. Take note, though, that I have already started on the next 'chapter' (really, they're more like chapter-lets, they're so short), so your idea may not show up right away even if I do decide to use it.
Chapter 2: The Reprobates
There were reasons Ginny stuck to her guns. Real, specific reasons. But as she sat in Snape's classroom, fidgeting restlessly among a group of four other delinquent students as Snape murmured directions to the Slytherin prefects he'd deputized into helping oversee detention, she was finding it hard to remember what those reasons were, exactly.
Carefully glancing to the other students in a way that wouldn't draw too much attention, Ginny surveyed her present company.
There was some twitchy second or third year who looked scared shitless to be trapped in the same room with Snape (a feeling Ginny might be able to sympathize with if she'd been his age); one fifth and one seventh year boy, seated as far from each other as possible, who kept exchanging heated glares (Ginny suspected they'd been caught fighting in the corridors); and a mini chavette who looked like a 13-year-old trying to pass for 25, blatantly displaying a pack of fags out the back pocket of her leggings despite their status as contraband. Ginny stared down at her hands. And she belonged here for… what, exactly?
"I hed cha broke some bloke's arm fa touchin' ya, din' ya? Chhhh, wot kyn' prude is ya, den?*"
If Ginny had had less self-control she might just have ripped the girl's ears, and their massive hoop earrings, from her thick skull. But Ginny had better sense than that. So she just continued to look at her hands, picturing running over the girl's inevitable tiny dog with a bus. The downsides of muggle culture.
"Yeah, Weaslette, the mudblood asked you a question: what kind of uptight cunt are you?"
It was much harder to not react to the snide murmured tone of Draco Malfoy, and the twitching of Ginny's thumb belied her growing anger, but she managed to bite her tongue, her eyes trained on her nails even as she saw him move into the corner of her vision. He was one of Snape's trusted deputies, after all. The bugger. He was lucky he'd been speaking quiet enough that Snape, still occupied with the other two Slytherin prefects, hadn't heard his disgusting comment.
When she didn't reply, the prat had the gall to continue to bait her.
"I've heard Missy over there is banging half the boys in my house, and she's only a third year," Malfoy's voice had a touch of sadistic delight as the tall blonde moved close enough that Ginny could feel the heat radiating off of him (funny; she'd figured him to be cold-blooded, the snake). His presence so close to her raised the hairs on the back of her neck in prickling anger, and all she wanted to do was hex the git into oblivion. But he continued; "Do you just think you're too good for the likes of MacDougal?" He was barely over a foot away, his hand resting on the table behind hers, angled just so to cut her off from the rest of the classroom, and he leaned down to offer his second option. "Or are you waiting for Potter to deflower you with his broomsti-"
He was unable to finish that comment, however, due to a swift jab in the kidneys. To his credit, he didn't cry out; he just winced and let out a small 'oof,' not even noticeable by Snape, even when Malfoy straightened and stepped away.
"I'd appreciate it if you kept your distance, Malfoy," Ginny murmured in an icily casual tone, raising her hands from the desk to continue her now very in-depth inspection of her nails. "I wouldn't want to give you an accidental vasectomy the next time I slip." Her internal review board didn't find the comeback entirely satisfying, but it would do. It seemed to work, as Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but returned to the other prefects, now arraying themselves at the front of the room as Snape turned to address the assembled delinquents.
"As some of you need to be separated from others," Snape glared icily at the feuding fifth and seventh year, pointedly, "I'll be having a few assistants in your detentions tonight." Somehow, whenever Snape spoke Ginny felt like she was being towed along in a cart going about half the speed she wanted to be going. His nonchalant droning, while sufferable in class, was extra irritating in a situation like tonight. "Cauldwell and Graham, you'll be with me; Weasley, you're with Parkinson; Hanley, with Berrow; Westin, with Malfoy."
The little gathering of reprobates split off to their assigned wardens, and probably for the first time in her life Ginny was actually glad to be assigned to spend time with Pansy Parkinson. As she shuffled over to the girl – who looked beyond irritated just to look at the redhead – the professor forced the twitchy boy and the angry fifth year to follow after him as he moved out of the classroom like some sort of ominous storm.
A/N: *I heard you broke some bloke's arm for touching you, didn't you? *Tsk* What kind of prude are you, then?
