A/N: WOW. More than 500 words this time - I'm surprised. I might come back and edit it, though. Not the best writing.

Prompt #17: 7/25/17

517 words, according to Google docs.

"Ughhhh…" Ginny dragged herself through the doorway of Draco's flat, flopping onto the couch and casting her hand dramatically over her forehead. Draco looked up from his lasagna, smirking slightly.

"Tired, love?"

"You think?" She groaned, tossing her quidditch bag half-heartedly at the blond. She missed. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I had yet to see the day Ginerva Weasley was unable to hit the great Draco Malfoy with anything."

"Shut up, you great prat." The other eyebrow joined its companion.

"Nothing more creative?" He tut-tutted, rising gracefully from his chair and sitting beside her immobile body. She suddenly felt incredibly dirty and awkward - she made an effort to sit up, but only succeeded in getting more mud on the couch.

"Whoops." Her tone was apologetic, and Draco waved it away - cleaning the fabric in the process.

"They overwork you way too much during practice," he said, noting a scrape on the redhead's cheek. "Of course -" he tossed in a teasing glance - "you need it, at the rate you're cleaning out my fridge."

"Ferret." He ignored the jibe, tapping her wound gently with his wand. He wrinkled his nose.

"Go take a shower, Weasley." He pocketed his wand, standing back up and returning to the table. "You'll feel much better afterward." It was Ginny's turn to feel bemused.

"In your shower?" Draco looked up.

"Well, it's the only shower near here, isn't it?" Ginny sighed, nodding.

"Alright. Save me some dinner." She picked up her bag and trudged towards the bathroom, careful not to get too much mud on the carpet. Entering the elegantly furnished bathroom, she stripped quickly - not caring for once that a certain Slytherin was just outside the door in the kitchen - and stepped into the shower, letting hot water loosen her aching muscles. He was right - quidditch practice was terribly exhausting, and she hadn't had a break for ages.

It only took her a few minutes in the shower before she stepped out, reaching automatically for the towel closest to her. Her fingers brushed the 'M' monogrammed on the corner and she froze momentarily, but continued all the same. What other option was there?

Leisurely drying herself, she let her eyes wander around the bathroom - taking in the clean white tiles, neat rows of toilet paper, and toothbrushes - toothbrushes? What conceited brat needed two toothbrushes? A sinking feeling accompanied the deep disappointment in her belly.

"Draco?" she called out hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Why do you have two toothbrushes?" She could almost envision his casual shrug.

"For the occasional visitor who drops by." She could hear his smirk. "I hate french kissing with morning breath."

She didn't respond.

Letting out a whoosh of air, she sat down against the wall, suddenly more tired than she had been before. She kept forgetting that Draco, however much he liked hanging out with Ginny - he did like it, didn't he? - was England's most eligible bachelor three years running and thoroughly enjoyed female company.

That is, female company that wasn't Ginny's. She sighed, standing up and hanging the towel back up.

She kept forgetting that he was just her friend.