Disclaimer: I disclaim.

A/N: This was written for psychopath-convention's challenge on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum titled The Confessions Challenge.

I hope you like it. I'm not completely happy with it, but it shall do.

Note: A pinny is like a mesh over shirt (colored) that is used for scrimmages. It's not recognized by the dictionary, but I don't care.

Dedicated to Mandirrr and Rigonoko for inspiring me. John, the first sentence is for you.

The correct title for this oneshot is "The Misfortune of Conversing with a Malfoy". Ignore the little title button up in the right hand corner. It puts character limits on titles, and I really don't like that. So, officially, the title is below. :)

Enjoy.

I've Got You Under My Skin

The Misfortune of Conversing with a Malfoy

She saw red.

It flashed before her startled eyes before she even had a chance to recognize it. She muttered a curse word as she pulled her broom into a frantic nosedive, ignoring Harry's irritated yells.

"Come on, Ginny! Get your head out of the clouds. That's the third pass you've missed today!"

Gripping the splintery handle of her broom even tighter, she barely managed to catch the slippery Quaffle before it crashed into the muddy stadium floor.

Gasping from the sudden effort, she pushed off from the squelchy ground. Passing quickly to Demelza, she streaked toward the goal posts towering overhead, squinting her eyes to see past the stinging rain.

When the team landed for a quick break, Harry marched over to where Ginny was huddled underneath a damp towel.

"You're going to get wet anyway. I don't know why you're holding that thing over your head."

Gnashing her teeth in exasperation, Ginny gritted out, "Oh, bugger off. So what if I'm holding a bloody useless towel over my head? It's not like you care."

She could feel the tension accumulated from her day rising like bile in her throat, acerbic and harsh.

Harry looked taken aback, and rightly so. She had never spoken to him with such spite. His expression morphed from surprise to fury to disapproval.

"Five laps after practice, Ginny," was his final quiet response.

The drenched group once more kicked off from the earth, Ginny trailing sullenly behind.

Twenty minutes, five missed goals, and an innumerable amount of badly thrown passes later, the rest of the team hurried back to the lockers for a quick shower. Ginny trudged under the stadium's latticework that served as the Gryffindor players' shelter, which was only slightly drier than the rest of the open field. Harry met her there, several soaked pinnies in his hand.

"What's up, Ginny? You were really out of it at practice." His concerned eyes searched hers.

"None of your damn business," she scowled, annoyed at his persistence. "Do you have to stick your nose into everything?"

He sucked a breath into his lungs, cooling his temper. "Look, you've probably had a rough day, and I understand how that feels. But haven't I always taught you- don't bring your life onto the field? If you don't lose that attitude quick, you won't be starting next game," he warned gently, but the threat was evident. "That'll be ten more laps, Weasley." He strode off the field, grime caking every inch of his uniform.

Ginny let out a frustrated roar when the Gryffindor Captain was out of sight. Hissing insults under her breath, she speedily raced around the pitch fifteen times.

Making the lonesome trek to the lockers was miserable. She was drenched, mud-caked, and incredibly crabby. The last thing she wanted to see as she plodded into the cool but thankfully dry locker room was Draco Malfoy.

He was preening his broom against a set of blue Ravenclaw cabinets, softly whistling. When she stomped in the door, he looked up, alarmed.

He made an indifferent noise in the back of his throat, observing that she was nothing of interest to him. He peered at his immaculate fingernails spread across the broom's shiny handle.

Ginny felt the rage and stress of the day bubble up suddenly. Something as small as a sniff from a Malfoy threw her over the edge.

Snarling, she bit out the words, "What, Malfoy? Can't bring yourself to insult a Gryffindor when you're alone?"

He stared at the girl dripping puddles on the floor. The face slowly registered in his mind.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were a Weasely because you're so covered in mud," he sneered. After a moment, he chuckled darkly, "But I guess that should have been an indicator. You blood traitors are always mucking around in filth."

Ripping her pinny over her head, Ginny snapped, "Just leave, Malfoy. Your minions aren't around to protect you. It's no use to stay and keep unsuccessfully insulting me." She trooped laboriously across the room to unlace her boots.

His eyes flashing suddenly, the blond strode around the benches to stand behind her. He did not take kindly to being slighted.

"Listen," he growled, forcefully spinning her around. "You don't talk about me like that, Weasel. You've got no right."

Once more, Ginny's fury exploded like a bomb inside her body.

"No right!" she shrieked, snatching her arm from Malfoy's grip. "No right! I've got every right to defend myself against pointless, false lies. I've had an awful day, and this is just the icing on top. I definitely don't need you jeering at me. So will you kindly just get out? I need to take a shower," she finished wearily, the tiredness creeping into her bones.

Malfoy stood several feet away, silently observing this outburst. He slowly opened his mouth. "Run back to Potter and your blundering brother, Weasely. I'm not someone to spill your woes to." He turned on his heel, about to leave.

"That's the problem! Both of them are gits," Ginny muttered.

Malfoy paused mid-step, despising himself. On one hand, he hated all the disgusting red-haired Weasleys. On the other hand, he loathed Potter and his tribe of witless minions. He would pay attention to the Weasley girl's troubles and see if anything was of use to him.

"Potter? Potter's being a git?" he inquired smoothly, pivoting back to face the forlorn girl.

"Yes," she mumbled miserably. "All of them, actually. Today was just dreadful. First I woke up late so I was tardy to Charms. And then I failed my Divination exam, and that's the fourth one I've gotten bad marks on. Mum sent another owl about Charlie- he got bit by a dragon and the wound's not healing properly. Ron was being his usual overprotective self. Dean and I are having issues- he always gets really jealous, and I just can't stand it anymore! And to top it all off, I played horribly at practice, Harry's furious with me, and I'm revealing this to a bloody Slytherin!" She finished her rant, gulping in large amounts of cool air.

Malfoy simply stared at the girl. Why had he done this again?

"I'm such a mess!" Ginny whispered, salty tears creating white paths down her mud-streaked cheeks..

Sneering disdainfully down at the redhead, Malfoy brushed his robes and looked into her wet eyes.

"You really should get cleaned up. You're starting to smell. Only now you smell like sweat, instead of Mudbloods."

With that, he promptly turned and left the locker room, banging the door forcefully behind him.

A/N: Ha! Were you expecting romance or at least some snogging? I'm such a tease.