Something to Talk About by MeiQueen

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 07/09/2007
Last Updated: 31/12/2012
Status: In Progress

When Ginny keeps getting disturbingly harassed, she goes to the one person at the centre of all
Hogwarts mischief and malice- Draco Malfoy. While, strangely, he knows nothing about the
harassment, he makes a deal to protect her in exchange for something of hers. When Draco Malfoy and
Ginny Weasley begin to hang out constantly, the school not knowing Draco’s position as her
bodyguard, they give Hogwarts something to talk about. For Draco’s payment, and in an effort to
discourage her psychotic stalker, Ginny is more than willing to give people the impression that
she’s dating the school’s most badass occupant—she just didn’t expect to fall for him in the
charade. Rated for later chapters.




1. Deal or No Deal
------------------

-

**Something to Talk About**

**Mei Queen**

**­-**

**Summary:** When Ginny keeps getting disturbingly harassed, she goes to the one person at
the centre of all Hogwarts mischief and malice- Draco Malfoy. While, strangely, he knows nothing
about the harassment, he makes a deal to protect her in exchange for something of hers. When Draco
Malfoy and Ginny Weasley begin to hang out constantly, the school not knowing Draco’s position as
her bodyguard, they give Hogwarts something to talk about. For Draco’s payment, and in an effort to
discourage her psychotic stalker, Ginny is more than willing to give people the impression that
she’s dating the school’s most badass occupant—she just didn’t expect to fall for him in the
charade.

-

**Authoress’ Note:** Does not follow HP7. It’s sort of like my other fic Hot Gimmick, but
this plot is mine.

-

**Chapter 1: Deal or No Deal**

**-**

Ginny Weasley’s fierce shriek pierced the cool stillness of the night air. It was close to
midnight on Saturday evening, and her shriek woke the peaceful slumber of the other girls in her
sixth year Gryffindor dormitory.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia Larson asked blearily, rubbing her eyes out of exhaustion. “It’s late. Go
to bed, Gin.”

“What the *hell*,” Ginny began, her face a ghastly white and her arm shaking as she pointed
toward her bed, “is *that?!*”

Olivia looked over, following Ginny’s pointed finger. Spread on the scarlet bedspread of Ginevra
Weasley’s four-poster bed were…

*Snakes.*

Not your average garter snakes. No. These were *huge…*silent, slithering, ridiculously
large serpents.

Olivia’s shriek had woken the rest of the dorm, and now all of them were standing on Olivia’s
bed, in fear that some of the snakes might slither off of Ginny’s bed onto the ground. That was the
strange part—the snakes were *only* on Ginny’s bed.

Ginny’s chocolate eyes widened breathlessly as she took in all the snakes slithering between her
sheets, on her pillows, around her bedspread, and came to a realization: “Those snakes were meant
for me.”

Then another, harder, realization hit. There had been a scorpion loose on the floor last week,
and a few large spiders the week before that. Ginny had just assumed, since the creatures were
scurrying in the middle of the floor, that they were the result of some bad first year
transfiguration practice in the common room, transfiguration practice that had just happened to
wander into the sixth year girls’ dorm. But this time, a multitude of snakes, all deliberately set
in her bed, that sign was obvious. And it was impossible to ignore. Ginny felt her heartbeat
quicken as she whispered, “Somebody’s got it in… for *me*.”

-

“So McGonagall didn’t do *anything?*” Olivia asked in horror, listening as Ginny relayed
her tale at breakfast on Monday morning. Ginny had gone to McGonagall promptly Sunday morning after
an uncomfortable evening her entire dorm spent trying to sleep in the common room (Olivia had
claimed the couch, leaving Ginny to try to make the floor as comfortable as possible).

Ginny sighed, dipping her spoon into her porridge. “Nope, nothing. It’s not like she knows who
did it, so she can’t punish anyone. Meanwhile, she just advises that we lock our door and windows
from now on.”

“That’s it?” Blythe Roberts muttered, absentmindedly shredding her waffle into smaller pieces.
“That’s a lot of good. It’s not like we’re surrounded by wizards or anything,” she said, snorting
with laughter, her green eyes lighting up with amusement. “Of course, *nobody* at Hogwarts
would use ‘Alohomora’ if they stumbled across a locked door!”

Olivia rolled her turquoise eyes in response. “I know that, you know that, Gin knows that…but
McGonagall probably can’t promise anything else. It’s not like she doesn’t have enough on her mind
nowadays, what with Snape to watch over and Death Eaters to worry about. We’re probably lucky all
we got was snakes and not a Lethifold or something.”

Blythe nodded mutely, running her hands through her shoulder-length brown mane. “Sad, but true.
Hey, do you think the snakes are a sign?”

“Slytherin?” Ginny asked, nodding. “Yeah, I thought of that…but then, why would someone want to
incriminate themselves by using their House’s animal?”

“Well,” Olivia said logically, “It’s not like ravens or badgers are very frightening, are they?
Besides, if it *was* a Slytherin, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, they’re not exactly
known for their ability to think things through to perfection. Remember Malfoy’s half-baked scheme
last year?”

“The Vanishing Cabinets?” Colin Creevey asked, listening in on the conversation and scooting
down the bench to join in. “Yeah, I know. Total crap. I guess it was enough to get rid of
Dumbledore…and you think that alone would be enough to expel someone, but obviously when you’re got
big friends like Malfoy,” he muttered, casting a dark look in the region of the Slytherin table as
he finished.

“We know,” Ginny replied, sighing. “I don’t like that he’s here any more than you all do. He
makes fun of me twice as much as he did when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were here. It’s like he feels
he has to make up for all the ridicule he gave them with just me alone!”

“But then,” Olivia said thoughtfully, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her index
finger, “he could be *useful.*”

Ginny snorted with disbelief. “Somehow I doubt that, Liv. This is *Malfoy* we’re talking
about. I don’t know if he’s been useful a day in his life. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know what
the word means.”

Olivia shook her head. Staring at Ginny meaningfully, she said simply, “That’s not what I
meant.”

-

“You want me to tell Malfoy *what?*” Ginny asked in indignation on the way to Charms.
Ginny, for the most part, was used to the half-baked schemes her friends came up with. The schemes
were traditional, even amusing, at times. But this, this was just ridiculous. She refused to go to
a Malfoy and ask for help, especially for something like this, something that made her feel so
vulnerable.

Olivia put her hand to her hip defensively. “Hey. It’s a good idea. He knows everything bad that
goes on at this school, since ninety percent of the time he’s at the root of it. He can help you
figure out who’s doing it!”

It was bad enough that someone in the school wanted her to be bit by snakes and terrorized…but
she would rather take the terrorizing animals than voluntary time spent with a terrorizing Malfoy.
Merlin, now that she actually thought about it, it could *be* Malfoy.

“But that’s exactly why you should do it!” Blythe insisted, when Ginny voiced that very
concern.

The redhead raised her eyebrows. “Don’t follow.”

“Well,” Blythe replied, “This way, if the stalker strikes while Malfoy is helping you, you’ll
know that it isn’t him!”

“You know it’s not him *now*,” Luna Lovegood said dreamily, walking by and joining in their
conversation.

“Well, excuse *you*,” Olivia muttered snottily.

Ginny gave her a *look,* before replying politely to Luna. “How would I know that,
Luna?”

“Well,” Luna said reasonably, “men can’t go up to the girls’ dormitories. Haven’t you said that
before?”

Blythe smiled. “Oh. Fair point. So maybe it’s a female Slytherin, then.”

“He could still be having a girl take the stuff up there,” Olivia said stubbornly, crossing her
arms over her chest in annoyance before hurrying off to Charms.

“Don’t pay her any mind,” Ginny whispered to Luna. “She’s deathly afraid of snakes. I think
she’s still a little traumatized from this weekend. I’m kind of worried that she blames me for it,
actually.”

“It’s not like you can control what lunatics place menageries in our dorm,” Blythe retorted
sarcastically, looking angrily where Olivia had recently walked.

Luna nodded. “But people aren’t reasonable, Blythe. She just wants to blame whomever she can
right now, Ginny, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Ginny sighed. It was bad enough that she was frightened to go back to her own dorm at night for
fear of what might be waiting in her bed at night, but the thought of her own dorm-mate waiting to
yell at her was too much for Ginny Weasley to take.

-

Ginny sighed. Charms had been a long lesson. Today they had been working on Cheering Charms with
the Ravenclaws. She was paired with Luna, and for some reason, Luna’s spells were a little wonky.
Maybe it was her wand, but Luna’s spells were taking the exact *opposite* effect of what they
were supposed to be doing. All in all, Ginny left the class in dire need of a Pepper-Up Potion…or a
shot of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey.

It was in this depressed mood as she walked across the courtyard, that she ran into Draco Malfoy
and his cronies. “Ran into” being the operative words, as her ill-fitting shoes mixed with a long
hemline and a loose cobblestone equals Ginny Weasley at the feet of Malfoy.

“Look, boys, we’ve found our little weasel,” Draco drawled with his trademark smirk, addressing
his two friends (though they were really more lackeys or henchmen, in all honesty), Vincent Crabbe
and Gregory Goyle.

Ginny looked up, livid, from the ground. She had tripped, and now the contents of her bag had
spilled everywhere. She looked despairingly at the hem of her robes, still a good inch or two
longer than would have been really safe, and groaned. Draco certainly didn’t show any sign of
planning on helping her out, so she sighed and grudgingly began to re-pack her stuff, listening to
the boys’ cruel commentary.

*“She looks runty. Her family can’t even afford proper robes; it’s not a surprise they can’t
feed her.”*

*“She really is small, Draco. Especially in…certain areas.”*

*“I bet she’s a cat in bed, though. It’s always the quiet ones you have to worry
about.”*

The last remark was said by Goyle, to which Draco snorted in derision. “There is no way she is
going to be breathing my air, let alone mussing my sheets, Goyle.”

While the boys chortled in laughter, Ginny felt her face getting warm. Her blood felt like it
was on fire. Every bit of her was tingling with anger. She was furious with the way she had been
treated in the past week—she was used to Malfoy’s teasing to a certain extent, but the entire
contents of the bloody Forbidden Forest waiting between her sheets was putting her a bit on edge.
Plus, her neck still had an awful crick in it from sleeping on the floor of the common room.
Throwing her last quill back into her bag, she stood resolutely a few centimetres in front of
Malfoy.

“I’m breathing your air right now, Malfoy. What are you gonna do about it?”

He carefully regarded the petite, spunky redhead in front of him, as if judging her worthiness
as a competitor. It was really rare that anyone dared to challenge Draco, and when they did, it was
usually half-hearted attempts. Ginny Weasley was a breath of fresh air, as much as the youngest
Malfoy was loath to admit it.

“What do you *want* me to do about it, Weasel?”

Ginny wrinkled her nose at the name. She hated being called that.

“Ugh. Nothing, ferret. Forget I said anything.” Turning away, the slender sixteen-year-old
shouldered her bag and turned to walk away.

“Hold it, Red.”

“Why should I?” Ginny turned and planted a hand resolutely on her hip.

“I want you to say what you wanted to say,” Draco said menacingly, advancing towards her. “Well?
Out with it.”

The redhead surprised them both when she expelled a deep breath, practically whispering, “I need
your help.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. *She couldn’t have said what I thought she said. There’s no way.*
“Sorry?”

“I need your *help*,” Ginny retorted, louder this time. She crossed her arms and waited,
steeled against the aftermath sure to come from a Weasley asking a Malfoy for his assistance.

Draco’s eyes bugged. He honestly did not know what to say. Out of all the things the Weaselette
could have said to him, this was definitely the one thing he was unprepared for. Turning away from
her and getting ready to head to the dungeons for Potions, he murmured softly, “Well, that sucks
for you, Weasley. I have no reason to help you.”

She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Pity. I was going to make you a deal.”

He turned quickly. “What type of terms?”

-

Malfoy had waved away Crabbe and Goyle close to twenty minutes ago, and was sitting in a
desolate area of the courtyard talking to Ginny. He was intrigued by what she was telling him—he
had no idea who might be doing it, but he would like to find them and give them a warm pat on the
back for their Gryffindor-terrorizing style. “So,” he summarized, “someone has been placing
creatures in your room for a few weeks, and you want me to help you figure out who’s doing it, and
help you get them to stop.”

“Yes,” Ginny said, nodding, “that pretty much sums it up.”

“What do I get for this?”

The redhead shrugged tiredly. “Honestly, I don’t care. Whatever you want. I just want to be able
to sleep in my bed again. We have midterms coming up soon, and I haven’t had a full nights’ sleep
in weeks…”

Draco looked grimly at the dark circles under her eyes and her pasty skin tone. “I can
tell.”

Ginny snorted. “You’re such a gentleman.”

He puffed out his chest in response. “I can be. But I prefer to only use my manners when the
audience merits it.”

She rolled her eyes, tired by now of his pompous attitude. “So, basically, you don’t think I’m
good enough to deserve common courtesy.”

“Yeah, more or less.”

-

Ginny walked away from the meeting with Malfoy still unsure as to what his terms of their deal
would be. He hadn’t been able to give her an answer, but he promised to find her in the halls or
owl her in the next few days. She yawned, trudging up to Gryffindor tower after her classes were
over. She was ready for a nap. Honestly, Ginny felt like she could do without supper, so long as
she finally got some quality sleep.

Her heartbeat sped up when she approached the dorm door, the door she and the girls had so
carefully locked when they got their books after lunch. It was *open*.

-

She silently removed her wand from her bag, flattening her body against the wall so whoever was
in the dorm wouldn’t see her approach. She was hoping to catch them in the act, and hopefully give
them a nice taste of her characteristic Bat-Bogey Hex before taking them to McGonagall.

Carefully peeking through the open doorway, she immediately saw that the room was deserted,
except for a medium-size package in the centre of the room. Wrapped in Slytherin colors, the
package had green wrapping paper and silver ribbon.

Ginny’s eyebrows rose in confusion. *What in the world? Should I open it? Malfoy still isn’t
helping me, so it’s not like I can owl him about this… I guess it would be best to just open it and
get it over with. Maybe it’s like a Howler—the sooner you open it, the better.*

Cautiously approaching the package, she ripped off the wrapping, only to be faced with—Harry
dying. Then it switched—Ron was dead. Then her mother. Her father. Bill. Charlie. The twins.
Hermione. Luna. Olivia. Blythe.

Then, strangely, Draco Malfoy joined the string of bloody corpses.

Ginny remembered finding that slightly odd, at least before she fell onto the floor in a dead
faint.

-

When she opened her eyes again, she was surrounded by blinding white. *The Hospital Wing,*
she processed slowly, noting Madam Pomfrey in the corner of the room, and Blythe, Luna, and Olivia
at her side.

Blythe was the first to notice that Ginny was awake. “Oh my God, we were so worried! Are you
okay?”

Ginny tried to shake off the exhaustion clouding her thoughts. “I think so, I’m just really
tired. What happened?”

Olivia shrugged. “We don’t know. We went into the dorm, and you were passed out on the floor
with a boggart hovering around you.”

“That was a boggart?” Ginny groaned. “Merlin, I feel like an idiot now. I just got so caught off
guard, it came in this package and I didn’t know what to expect inside it or anything…”

Luna raised an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me that somebody *gift-wrapped* a
*boggart*. This is good stuff, Dad might even be interested in this type of thing for the
Quibbler.”

Ginny nodded. “They even made it really pretty, too. All Slytherin colours.”

Blythe’s eyebrows knotted in concentration. “It sure seems like someone is trying to lead us on
a Slytherin theme here. But why? Why would an actual Slytherin incriminate themselves? Do you think
it’s someone trying to pin it on the Slytherins?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny replied honestly, leaning back against her pillows in exhaustion. “But
whoever it is, they’ll rue the day they messed with a Weasley.”

-

Ginny was still in the Hospital Wing, napping, when she heard the door close at the end of the
corridor. Olivia, Luna, and Blythe had all left close to two hours ago, so Ginny knew it wasn’t one
of them, and there was nobody else resting in the wing, so it had to be a visitor for her.

Exhaustedly opening one eye, she was surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing at the edge of her
bed, fidgeting nervously.

“Hi,” she croaked, sitting up against the pillows, hoping that her hair wasn’t *too* matted
and frightening.

“Hello,” he replied, sitting on the bed next to hers. “I heard about the boggart in your dorm.
Are you doing better?”

She snorted. “What, Malfoy? You’re not going to ridicule me for letting a simple boggart get the
best of me? Not feeling your biting self today, are you?”

He shook his head. “It’s hard with boggarts. It all depends on what you fear—I remember Potter’s
boggart was terrifying, just because it was a dementor…basically fear itself. Huge snakes,
mummies…those are less frightening. You, well, you worry for those that you love, one of the most
reasonable fears in existence, especially during a war. That’s what my boggart turns into, too. My
mum.”

Ginny’s eyes widened at Malfoy’s uncharacteristic sharing of information, indeed, it seemed that
he had forgotten he was actually speaking with anyone in particular. He was staring dreamily off
into space, obviously thinking of prior boggarts. Ginny wondered if You-Know-Who had directly
threatened Narcissa’s life…she wouldn’t be surprised, it would certainly be an easy way to hurry
the young Malfoy into servitude.

Shaking off his personal demons, Malfoy refocused his eyes on Ginny. “I came here to tell you
that I’ll help you. I know the tactic this person is using, and I have a feeling that they’ll only
get more audacious with the things they stick in your dorm from now on, so you need help as soon as
possible. It’s cat-and-mouse. They’re trying to intimidate you as much as physically possible,
well, before they…”

He trailed off, unwilling to form the words.

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Before they *what*?”

“Before they get tired of playing with their food like my Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco whispered
darkly.

Ginny’s face paled in response. “Oh, dear Merlin. If I make it through this, I will *kill*
whoever did this.”

Draco snorted. “Please. I’m a Malfoy, and I know—Weasleys don’t kill.”

“Well,” the redhead replied, unwilling to admit that he was right, “I’d sure be damned close in
this case. I’d at least give them a good dose of my Bat-Bogey Hex.”

“That seems fair,” Malfoy replied with a slight chuckle.

Ginny smiled in reply, her eyes meeting his. She had one final question to ask. “Hey, why are
you helping me? What are you getting out of this?”

Draco turned to her, looking at his hands with nervousness apparent in his features. It was
obvious that, whatever he was about to say, he was very uncomfortable saying it. “Look, Pansy
Parkinson has been bugging me to marry her for as long as I can remember.”

“Long as *I* can remember, too,” Ginny pointed out, giggling.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steely and irritated. “Well, I need to do something that would…get
it through to her. I need to get the message across that I’m not interested. I’ve tried everything,
and there’s always been one thing I was thinking about trying if things got completely desperate. I
didn’t think I would ever need to, and didn’t bother trying to figure out how I would…but since
you’ve basically dropped this open-ended offer in my lap, it works nicely.”

Ginny’s face paled nervously. “Oh, Merlin, please tell me I’m not going to have to do anything
illegal.”

Draco chuckled hollowly. “Nope, nothing illegal…just a little *acting.* I told Parkinson I
would rather date a Weasley than her. She thought I was kidding. I told her that I was quite
deathly serious, and she wouldn’t believe it. She said that you would never date me, and would
believe when she sees it. Well, Weasel, I need her to see it. And damnit, I need it to be
believable.”

-

**Authoress’ Note (Take Two):** Please review!!



2. Blood. So Much Blood.
------------------------

**-**

**Something to Talk About**

**Mei Queen**

-

**Authoress’ Note:** Here it is, the update. It’s rather hard to update anything when you’ve
got as many stories as I have, but I won’t make excuses. That would be silly. I’ll just tell you
that it’s good to be writing again. I feel like all the tension I’ve had over the past month has
just been let out. Anyway, enough for my psychoanalysis…please leave a review! They make my
day!

**-**

**Chapter 2: Blood. So Much Blood.**

**-**

Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy stood in the shadows outside the door to the Great Hall the next
morning. Inside, students were enjoying a delicious breakfast courtesy of the talented Hogwarts
house-elves. Draco and Ginny were not enjoying their breakfast, however. Not yet.

The two were having some…*technical* difficulties.

“Just give me your hand, Weasley!”

Ginny cringed inwardly at the thought of holding hands with Draco Malfoy, but she grudgingly
relented, slipping her small freckled hand into his larger pale one. Slightly unwilling to know the
answer, she forced herself to ask, “So…what do I have to do?”

He snorted with amusement, mentally focusing on trying to touch as little of her hand as
possible while still appearing a plausible couple. “Oh, nothing. Sign over your firstborn, hand me
Excalibur dressed in flowing white samite, defeat a Hydra. Nothing out of the ordinary for you,
Weasel.”

She quirked an eyebrow upward at his sarcastic reply. “Well, obviously, *somebody* hasn’t
had his bloody coffee this morning.”

He stopped fidgeting with their hands for his grey eyes to meet her chocolate. “Tea, Weasel.
True Brits drink *tea,* none of that namby-pamby coffee business.”

She let out a rather ungraceful snort before asking, “Did you just say ‘namby-pamby,’ because,
you know, that’s not a very intimidating saying for the so-called ‘Prince of Slytherin’ to use in
everyday conversation.”

He shot her an icy glare before rolling his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Weasel. If we’re
supposed to be a couple, you have to stop being such a bitch!”

She regarded him evenly, cocking her head to the side in amusement. “And ‘if we’re supposed to
be a couple,’ you have to stop being such a great prat, Malfoy.”

“Draco,” he corrected her automatically, looking over her appearance and his to make sure that
there was nothing to which bloody Pansy Parkinson could find objectionable. This first appearance
would set the tone for their “coupledom,” and Draco didn’t want anything to go awry.

“Draco?” she questioned. “You’ve never objected to my calling you Malfoy before.”

He looked at her like she was extremely dense, and consequently spoke very slowly in his
response. “I’ve never asked you to pretend to date me before, either. My girlfriends generally call
me by my *first* name, as lovely as my surname does dance on the ear.”

Ginny regarded him with interest. “Girlfriends? You’ve had those? I thought you only had women
who kept your bed warm, so to speak.”

Draco’s eyes bugged at her audacity. *Hmph**.* *Figures I had to go and make this
bloody proposal to the most outspoken bint in Hogwarts,* he thought irritably, tugging on his
tie one final time before leading Ginny toward the large wooden doors of the Great Hall. “I have
*relationships,* all right? There’s no need to get all bloody Gryffindor on me and start
morally classifying my actions!”

Ginny smiled at him sweetly, eyes wide with innocence. “Oh, don’t worry. No morals here!”

Before Draco could think of the possible implications of that statement, Ginny Weasley had
tugged open the doors—and tugged him right on through with her.

-

The whole of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry watched the unlikely couple enter the
towering doors, including, to Draco’s immense satisfaction, Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was seated next
to Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode at the Slytherin table, jaw dropped in horror, an
action that seemed to be mimicked by most of the Hogwarts population. Ginny cringed when she
noticed the same expression Pansy was wearing on the faces of many Gryffindors—Olivia and Blythe,
Dean, Seamus and Colin, just to name a few. However, Luna, Ginny noticed when her eyes passed over
the Ravenclaw table, didn’t look the least bit surprised. Instead the airy blonde looked as if this
was a change of events she had expected all along. Funny, that.

“Dear Merlin,” Ginny hissed at Draco, squeezing his hand tightly (and certainly *not* out
of affection). “You’d think the bloody *Queen* had dropped by for tea!”

He snorted in response, surveying the reactions of his peers with indifference. “If you fashion
yourself a queen these days, Weasel. Don’t know how you can think yourself a queen when you can’t
even buy robes that fit, though.”

The rage began to bubble and boil under Ginny’s calm exterior, making her a veritable time bomb
of fury. “Fuck you, Malfoy,” she hissed as quietly as possible, making sure to apply a wide smile
as she did it.

He rolled his eyes. “Have a good day too, Ginny!” he called out loudly, much more for the
benefit of the Hall’s many eavesdroppers than for Ginny’s.

She grumbled slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Have a good day too, Malf- I mean…Draco.”

He smiled at her tightly, looking obviously forced from where Ginny was standing, but inevitably
fine to the rest of the world (as Malfoys almost never smiled, most people could never tell if his
smiles were real, anyway). Then he did something that they had *definitely* not gone over in
the hallway—he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly in the middle of the Great Hall.

Ginny foggily remembered enjoying the kiss later, but at the time, her mind went blissfully
blank. The caress felt like it lasted forever, but Draco actually pulled away after just a few
moments. All of the onlookers assumed the chasteness of the kiss was because of the presence of
professors, but an irritable Ginny later decided in her dorm that the real reason must be because
Draco felt like he was contaminating his bloody perfect self by kissing her in the first place.

She watched him walk away toward the Slytherin table with nothing short of shock apparent on her
pale features. Pressing a hand to her swollen lips, she thought to herself with irritation,
*Great. That’s just bloody great.*

-

“That was some kiss you two just had, eh?” Blythe asked suggestively, elbowing Ginny rather
painfully in the ribs as she did so.

The redhead clutched at the offending body part in pain. “I s’pose. Pass the marmalade, please,
Liv.”

Olivia picked up the marmalade, eyes passing over Ginny appraisingly before she did so. “You
know, you could have let us in on the whole Malfoy thing before breakfast. We didn’t have to find
out with the rest of bloody Hogwarts.”

Ginny had the grace to blush guiltily before accepting the jar. “I know, guys. I’m really sorry.
But if I did tell you, your reactions wouldn’t have been very authentic. ‘Sides,” she muttered, a
mischievous gleam blooming in her brown eyes, “it was more fun this way.”

Blythe snorted indignantly. “I resent that, but I suppose it was rather amusing,” she said with
a giggle, a smile growing on her olive-skinned features.

“You bet,” the redhead replied with a grin.

“So what do you have to do?” Olivia asked sharply.

Ginny studied Olivia with confusion. “What do you mean?”

Olivia rolled her eyes at her friend’s slow response. “I mean, Malfoy would never make it so
easy as a handhold and a peck on the lips. This is Draco sodding Malfoy we’re talking about! Since
when has he even *had* a girlfriend? Besides, whenever he *is* amused with someone, it
gets further than handholding *fast.”*

Ginny’s muffin felt dry in her throat. “Gods, I don’t know, Liv. I didn’t want to know, so I
didn’t ask. We just need to act this way around that bint Pansy, and in return, I’ve got a
bodyguard. Speaking of which, was there anything in the dorm when you two left? Any creepy
crawlies?”

Blythe shook her head in the negative. “Thank Merlin. I don’t even want to *think* about
what zoo escapee psycho-stalker is planning on putting up there next.”

The girls shared a collective shudder.

Ginny yawned, reaching behind her to shoulder her purse. “Time for History of Magic,” she
announced flatly, in much the same voice one would use at midterms, driving tests, dull church
services and beheadings.

“You never know,” Blythe pressed optimistically, “maybe Binns will have suddenly realized he’s
dead today!”

“And what would that do, exactly?” Olivia asked dryly, getting up with the girls to walk toward
the doors.

As Ginny was about to answer, a voice cut in for her. “It would make things more interesting,
I’d wager,” a voice drawled slowly, a voice that Ginny knew was completely unmistakable. Turning to
the owner of the voice, she hissed, “In case you don’t remember, eavesdropping is rude, Malf-”

Draco held up a slender pale finger to silence her. “You’re hilarious, *honey,*” he said
through gritted teeth, nodding his head at all the crowds pushing past them on their way to
classes, indicating that everyone was inevitably listening to every word Draco and Ginny were
saying.

She smiled sweetly in response, but her eyes were blazing with annoyance. “No, you are,
*sweetcheeks**.*”

Draco’s face contorted in barely concealed irritation. “*Sweetcheeks**?*”

She smirked, tossing a few strands of her red hair over her shoulder. “Have a good day,” she
announced, rocking up onto her tiptoes to kiss him soundly on his pale cheek. Ginny felt an
overwhelming sense of vindication when she saw that her lip gloss had left a bright pink outline of
lips on his cheek-- the only thing marring his otherwise perfect features.

He watched her go with obvious shock, mouth still hanging open (not altogether unattractively)
in disbelief, fingers pressing numbly to the spot on his cheek where her warm lips had been so
recently.

-

A voice called out to Draco as he slowly made his way down to the dungeons for his morning
Potions lesson.

He turned toward the voice, only to see Pansy Parkinson making her way toward him down the
hallway. He groaned inwardly, letting out a huge sigh. *Fabulous.* *Pansy bloody Parkinson…I
was just thinking how I hadn’t had nearly enough sodding lunatics or village idiots accost me
today.*

“What do you want, Parkinson?” he drawled slowly, making sure his voice sounded as absolutely
disinterested as was humanly possible.

The tone didn’t have the desired effect; Pansy kept walking toward him as determinedly as she
was before. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, poking him in the chest with a slender
forefinger.

His eyes ignited dangerously, travelling to the offending body part poking him directly between
his ribs. Pansy quickly jerked her finger away as if it were burned, knowing for herself all too
well the effects of Draco’s temper when it was let loose on the nearest target.

Blushing and coughing slightly to clear her throat, Pansy muttered, “I mean, what’s the deal
with the Weasley?”

His features regressed to their usual placid mask. “I’m dating her. Is that all you wanted?”

Her pug nose wrinkled in obvious incomprehension. “Excuse me? A Malfoy is dating a
*Weasley?* Am I the only one on this bloody campus who doesn’t think the two of you have gone
completely bleeding mad?”

Draco shrugged noncommittally, turning away from her to finish the walk down to the dungeon. “I
don’t know. Why don’t you make a support group if it’s that difficult of a concept for you,
Parkinson?”

“Draco, what the hell happened to you? You’re not acting like yourself at all!” she called
loudly after him.

He whirled on her, eyes blazing with irritation. “Don’t presume to know me, Parkinson,” he said
to her in a deathly whisper, his face near hers. “If you did know me, you would know I’m not
interested in you in the slightest. I’m with Weasley; just fucking deal with it.”

-

Ginny heaved a sigh, trudging through the Gryffindor Common Room to the girls’ staircase after
supper, the sun already beginning to set in the near window. Slowly, she began to climb the stairs,
methodically counting steps in her head to soothe her fraying nerves. *Please don’t let the door
be unlocked, please don’t let something be in there,* she thought to herself, terrified,
continuing the climb up to the Sixth Year dorms.

The door was open.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. Taking deep breaths, she peered around the
doorframe to try to see what might be in there. She wasn’t going to get surprised like last time,
no sir. Unable to see anything out of the ordinary from her current vantage point, she took a few
deep, steadying breaths and walked inside. The room looked completely fine. But then—why was the
door open?

Instinctually, her eyes travelled to her own bed. If the intruder had left any “parting gifts,”
undoubtedly he or she would have left them there.

At first, she couldn’t see anything, just the beautiful crimson of her own bedcover.

Wait, what was *that?*

Camouflaged by the scarlet of the Gryffindor colors, *blood* had soaked into all of Ginny’s
bedclothes. The blood was surrounding something dead, something furry, but Ginny’s heart was
beating too rapidly, her hands shaking too furiously, for her to feel comfortable nearing her own
bed.

She felt her lunch begin to stir unsteadily in her stomach. She felt like she might retch.

Instead, Ginny let out an agonizing scream, darting for the door.

-

She got all the way out of the Fat Lady’s portrait before doubling over and wheezing. To her
surprise, Draco stood across the hall and walked toward her with something that, on any other
person, Ginny would have taken as *concern* in his frosty grey eyes.

“What happened?” he asked calmly, patting Ginny’s back with sure strokes. She was sure he was
doing it for the benefit of the passer-by, to keep the public under the impression that they were
dating, but she didn’t much care. She was grateful for the contact, regardless of the giver.

When she finally caught her breath, she looked up at Draco. He was stunned to see how pale she
looked; she looked as if she’d just seen a banshee, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention her eyes…were
those *tears* in the corners?! What the hell happened to her? Ginny Weasley was nothing if not
a strong pain in Draco’s arse, and she certainly didn’t *cry.*

“Blood,” she whispered hoarsely. “So much blood.”

Draco put one of Ginny’s arms around his shoulder, supporting her weight with his. “Let’s get
you to McGonagall. Whoever doing this just went too far.”

-

“Miss Weasley, I’m sorry I didn’t pay proper attention to your grievance last week,” Minerva
McGonagall apologized grudgingly, passing Ginny and Draco the biscuit tin kept on her desk. “I
would have paid more attention if I thought this…stalker was actually malicious in nature.”

Draco’s eyes widened from where he sat. “You didn’t think a horde of bloody serpents was
*malicious*?” he asked incredulously, hardly believing that the old hag had the nerve to offer
Ginny a *biscuit* to soothe all the problems in her life at the moment.

“No, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall replied irritably, “I did not.” She pushed her spectacles up her
nose with finality. “So, Miss Weasley. We seem to be in a bit of a predicament, don’t we?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Draco muttered.

The professor glanced at him with annoyance. “Remind me why you’re here, Mr Malfoy?”

He looked back at her evenly. “If I wasn’t passing through, she wouldn’t have been taken here,
would she?”

The older woman pressed on, undaunted. “Passing through, eh? Isn’t Gryffindor Tower about…seven
floors too high for you to just be ‘in passing’?”

“Enough,” Ginny said with finality, exhaling a nervous breath. “He helped me, and I’m grateful.
I don’t care why he was there. As to my problem, yes, ‘predicament’ is one way of putting it,
Professor.”

McGonagall smiled grimly. “Is there any way to know who had access to your dorm today, Miss
Weasley?”

Ginny shrugged. “Could have been anyone, couldn’t it? Everybody’s always coming to the dorms
between classes to get books. All of us have been making sure to lock up securely like you said,
but still…everyone knows ‘alohomora.’”

“You make a good point,” the professor acknowledged, grim expression still plastered to her
stern features.

“So, what now?” Draco asked impatiently.

McGonagall sighed. “If this terrorizing continues, Miss Weasley, we’ll have to set up Dark
Detectors or some mild wards.”

“Wards?” Ginny asked curiously.

The professor nodded. “Ones that recognize you and your dorm-mates, of course, and perhaps other
Gryffindors who most often visit you, but other than that, the room is off-limits to anyone else.”
Her voice trailed off a moment. “Separating students, not allowing peers into rooms,” she murmured,
allowing her voice to trail off. “Albus would be so upset…”

Draco cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the professor’s reverie.

McGonagall’s stern eyes met Ginny’s, and she pronounced with finality, “Dark detectors first.
We’ll only use wards if the problem escalates to a level we can no longer control. Mr Malfoy,
please ask Professor Snape for any Dark detectors he may have on hand. Preferably very loud ones,
like a new Sneakoscope.”

Draco nodded and quickly exited the office, allowing the door to slam behind him.

The professor raised her eyes to Ginny’s again. “Good luck, Miss Weasley. If this happens again,
please come see me the moment it does.”
-

Ginny trudged the long walk up to Gryffindor Tower with a heavy heart. The Sneakoscope from
Draco was in the front pocket of her robes, thudding awkwardly against her leg, but she wouldn’t be
setting it up until tomorrow. *I’m not re-entering that bleedin’ place until it’s basked in
daylight,* she thought to herself nervously. Ginny knew it was foolish; after all, she had
stumbled upon all the blood in the daylight, too. But somehow every problem seems so much less
terrifying come morning, and she was depending on that thought to have the courage to walk up to
her dorm the next day.

She entered the Common Room absentmindedly, gathering a pillow from the couch and summoning a
blanket from the dorm. *Looks like it’s sleeping on the floor for me again,* she thought to
herself irritably. But, to be honest, she didn’t mind it so much. She would much rather sleep on
the floor than sleep where something had bled to death. Later evening, Olivia would tell Ginny
McGonagall’s findings when she visited the room to see the sight for herself-- the animals who had
died were a couple of Kneazles, something that really peeved Ginny to the core; Kneazles were one
of her favourite animals. Whoever it was that was harassing her…they were starting to get personal.
They weren’t just trying to frighten her anymore; they were trying to shake her to the core.

*Well, let them,* she thought challengingly, fluffing a pillow and spreading a blanket on
the floor of the Common Room by way of a makeshift bed. *If I let them get personal, they’ll
eventually get cocky. Hopefully they’ll come out of the shadows and leave a calling card.*

*And when they do,* the redhead thought viciously, pummelling her pillow to vent her
frustrations, *I’ll hex them into oblivion.*

*-*

A/N: Reviews make me happy! And they’re good for the soul, lol. Thank you all so much for your
support for this story so far!



3. Of Poison and Interrogations
-------------------------------

**-**

**Something to Talk About**

**Mei Queen**

­-

**Authoress’ Note:** The ‘Mood Music’ for this chapter is by one of those groups I really
like but always seem to forget about, lol—Blue October. Really, really sweet song. You should check
it out, and try to listen to it when you’re reading the last scene... Anyway, back to the chapter--
This chapter is a little off-track of our usual pattern- Ginny/Draco scenes, then stalker scene…
It’s actually the opposite in this chapter, with the stalker scene first, but, hey… the chapter’s
got some interesting parts in it nonetheless. *wink*

**-**

**Mood Music:** *Calling You-* Blue October

**-**

**RECAP-**

They weren’t just trying to frighten her anymore; they were trying to shake her to the core.

*Well, let them,* she thought challengingly, fluffing a pillow and spreading a blanket on
the floor of the Common Room by way of a makeshift bed. *If I let them get personal, they’ll
eventually get cocky. Hopefully they’ll come out of the shadows and leave a calling card.*

*And when they do,* the redhead thought viciously, pummelling her pillow to vent her
frustrations, *I’ll hex them into oblivion.*

**-**

**Chapter 3: Of Poison and Interrogations**

**-**

Two nights later, Ginny Weasley woke up to the enthusiastic screeching of the Sneakoscope. Heart
beating madly, she got up from her spot on the floor of the common room to race up to the girls’
staircase. Gryffindor girls in various states of undress, hair at odd angles, were popping their
heads out their doors blearily, wondering about the source of the terrible racket. Muttering a few
apologies to the girls, Ginny continued her sprint to the sixth year girls’ dorm.

To her immense surprise, when she got to her dorm, the door was closed…and *locked.*

*What in the name of Merlin?* The redhead wondered, quickly undoing the locks, all the
while trying to block out the noise of the blaring Dark Detector. *How could someone have set off
the Sneakoscope without entering the door? The scope wouldn’t have gone off at any of my roommates;
they were there when we set it up last night! Not to mention if someone had gone up or down the
stairs, I would have heard them from where I’m sleeping in the common room. Maybe the bloody
Sneakoscope’s broken like that one that Ron gave to Harry. Figures that bleeding Malfoy would pick
out the one Sneakoscope that goes off in the middle of the night for no reason…*

Ginny’s thoughts stopped midway as the door swung open, revealing the answer to most of the
questions she’d been wondering. The Sneakoscope *had* gone off for a reason, just not the
reason that Ginny had been expecting.

A beautiful eagle owl perched on Ginny’s bed blinked its bright yellow eyes at her, and,
deciding that its mission was complete, promptly swooped back out the window from which it had
come. Ginny, meanwhile, began to cautiously approach her bed, fervently hoping that whatever the
owl had left wouldn’t be something dead or bloody.

Instead, it was a note.

*You’re lucky all the owl was carrying was a note this time, little Weasley. Next time it will
be carrying some poison—colourless poison, the kind with no antidote known to man.*

*Sleep tight…*

-

“She can’t keep doing this,” Blythe muttered quietly at breakfast the next morning, keeping a
protective eye on Ginny while leaning over to whisper to Olivia. “She didn’t sleep a wink last
night, did she?”

“Can you blame her?” Olivia countered evenly, shaking her head. Olivia’s gaze lingered on the
prominent dark, baggy circles underneath the redhead’s eyes, regarding them with pity and concern.
Ginny sat stiffly on the bench, plate completely empty as it was when she got there, looking
dazedly off into space. Olivia looked back to Blythe. “Merlin, she’s not even eating.”

Blythe shrugged with helplessness. “She thinks everything is poisoned, Liv! That stalker has
made her paranoid to eat or drink *anything…* at this rate, that lunatic will starve her to
death before they get a chance to do anything with the bleeding poison!”

Olivia and Blythe stopped whispering and looked over at Ginny worriedly. The redhead had been
very out of it all morning, barely exchanging any words with them at all. Olivia and Blythe had
already read the stalker’s note for themselves as both had been awakened by the ringing Sneakoscope
of the night before. However, other than agreeing on the level of sanity of the stalker (completely
bleeding bonkers), Liv and Blythe hadn’t been able to do much about the situation at all, much to
their dismay. What could they do about an insane stalker who was using untraceable owls to deliver
threatening notes? Even more disconcerting, if the owl hadn’t been there for a dark purpose, the
girls doubted the Sneakoscope would have been set off at all.

*So much for Hogwarts being the safest place in the wizarding world,* Blythe thought
grimly, twirling a strand of her hair and looking back over at Ginny. Ginny had been tuning out,
eyes glazed over and looking in the general direction of the Slytherin table. Wondering what the
redhead was looking at, Blythe followed Ginny’s gaze. Ginny was looking in the direction of Draco
Malfoy’s usual crowd—Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Yet, Blythe noticed, Malfoy was conspicuously absent. *That’s weird,* the brunette thought
to herself. *The ferret normally makes it a point to eat breakfast…*

Just as she finished her thought, the doors to the Great Hall opened with a loud clang. Draco
Malfoy himself was striding through toward the Slytherins, obviously in a very bad mood. As he did
this, Ginny seemed to wake from her trance and quickly shouldered her bag and got up from her
seat.

Hurrying to head him off before he sat down, the redhead approached Draco quickly, tugging on
his robes with urgency. “I need to talk to you outside.”

Draco looked at her irritably. “*Now?* I have class in fifteen, and I’d really like to eat
some breakfast first.”

Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, she whispered icily, “You can eat later.”

Sighing, Draco grabbed a muffin and banana from the Ravenclaw table and grudgingly followed
Ginny out the double doors.

-

Ginny only spoke once they were good and out of earshot of the Great Hall. Satisfied that they
were far from the prying ears of their classmates, Ginny whirled on Draco, eyes blazing with fury.
Thrusting the note into Draco’s hands, she asked accusatorily, “What do you know about this?”

He read it through once, but once was all he needed. Feeling a buzz grow in his ears and
bubbling anger begin to churn inside his body, he replied in a deadly whisper, “You think I have
something to do with this?”

Pleased that she was irritating him, Ginny replied evenly, “Well, I’m not discounting the
possibility.”

Draco’s grey eyes narrowed furiously. “I’m your *bodyguard,* Weasel. Therefore, by
definition, I need a *body* to *guard…*or did that fact escape you when you were accusing
everyone in a fifty-mile radius?”

Ginny recoiled, chastised somewhat by Draco’s rant. She knew he was right, that she was accusing
anyone that caught her fancy, but it seemed much safer than sitting back and waiting to be poisoned
to death. “Sorry, but you certainly didn’t seem to be so against what this stalker was doing to me
when I asked you to be my bodyguard. You could know who it was and just not want to fink on
them…hell, it could be one of your buddies!”

Then, her eyes taking on an even darker tone of chocolate, her jaw dropped slightly as she
whispered, “It could be *you.*”

Shaking his head at the redhead’s stupidity, Draco let her note flutter to the ground, swivelled
on his heel, and was gone.

-

Ginny shook her head, leaning down to pick up the note. *Stupid me…he deserves to be angry. I
just accused him of harassing me when he’s had to go out of his way to protect me.* Then,
feeling a little light-headed from the situation and a lack of nourishment, Ginny sank down the
wall, sitting with her legs sticking far out into the corridor. Leaning her head against the cool
stone of the Hogwarts wall, she muttered, “Well, this is just *dandy.*”

Then, her mind happening on another consequence, she snorted with amusement, whispering, “I
guess this means we’re broken up.”

-

Draco was irritated, *very* irritated. When times like that happened, he knew he needed to
be alone. The last time he’d been around someone when he was really irritated, that person found
all their hair permanently hexed off. Oh well, Goyle didn’t need it, anyway.

Growling, he kicked absently at the rubbish littering his dorm. “Stupid bint, accusing
*me.* I mean, really, how dim can you get? Apparently pretty dim, I suppose. Merlin knows God
had an off day when He made the bloody Weasleys, especially the *girl*. He probably was on His
way to a lunch break and thought, ‘Hell, the littlest Weasley doesn’t need a bloody *brain,*
she’s got long swingy hair and nice eyes, she’ll marry well. That’s good. Now, who wants
enchiladas?’”

Draco let out a tiny chuckle. He wasn’t sure exactly what was making him laugh—the whole
hypothetical God scenario, the Ginny situation, or the fact that he had just, much to his
*extreme* irritation, complimented the Weaselette’s hair and eyes.

*That’s it,* the blond thought, slightly panicked; *I’m going absolutely mad…*

*-*

“Where’s Draco at?” Blythe asked Ginny quietly as they dissected a Tentacula in Herbology. “I
thought he usually walked you to this class to put on a bloody show for everyone, Gin.”

“He usually does,” the redhead conceded, nodding. As she nodded, she noticed that her head felt
much heavier than usual. *No food,* she realized. *I need to eat something soon, otherwise
I’ll end up in the bloody Hospital Wing again, and then I’ll be force-fed. That’d be even
worse.*

Olivia rushed in on their conversation, late to Herbology (as usual). Shrugging apologetically
at Professor Sprout, Olivia began to dissect the Tentacula with Ginny and Blythe. “What did I
miss?” she whispered.

“Apparently, Draco is no longer enamoured with our favourite redhead,” Blythe muttered
wryly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Guys, you both know he never liked me to begin with. He just liked how
irritated I made that stupid cow, Pansy Parkinson.”

“Be that as it may,” Blythe answered, nodding, “it still doesn’t change the fact that he
certainly protected you above and beyond the call of duty.”

Olivia nodded. “What exactly *was* he doing seven floors above the Slytherins that night he
took you to the Hospital Wing, Ginny?”

“He said he was on patrol,” Ginny muttered, her gaze never leaving the spindly, venomous
plant.

“Funny,” Blythe replied, cocking her head to the side with amusement at Ginny’s predicament,
“I’m prefect, and I didn’t see him scheduled that night.”

-

“You all know why you’re here,” Draco whispered, his voice dangerously low. He was pacing the
Slytherin common room, staring at a few of his classmates, classmates Draco found that he did not
trust anymore. Nott, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise all sat sullenly on the couches.

Draco stopped his incessant pacing, instead choosing to stare at them menacingly, cracking his
knuckles intensely. “I’ve had enough. I need to know who is doing this. I will interrogate every
single one of you individually until someone bloody comes forward, does everyone understand
that?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “All this for a bloody *girl,* Draco? Aren’t you being a tad
melodramatic?”

He took a few steps toward her, until their faces were dangerously close. He could feel her
fear, the short, wheezing breaths she was exhaling onto his cheek. He sneered at her, amused by the
fact that she seemed to think he might kiss her.

Recoiling with the same sneer still fixed to his face, he whispered, “Some girls are better than
others.”

-

After Herbology, Ginny, Blythe, and Olivia trudged slowly back to the castle, Ginny by far the
slowest. She wasn’t used to the rumbling in her stomach—it was very rare that she would go more
than five hours without eating, let alone skip a whole day. She felt light-headed, and her steps
felt unsure on the wet grass.

“Jeez, Gin,” Blythe whispered. “You really need to eat something. You look like you’re about to
fall over.”

“I don’t think that the lunatic would poison the food in the Great Hall,” Olivia joined in,
whispering too lest their classmates overhear. “That food is prepared straight from the house-elves
to the castle tables. The stalker wouldn’t have a chance to poison it. Besides, if that food had
been poisoned, Blythe and I would have been dead four hours ago!”

Ginny nodded weakly. “I know you’re right, but I can’t help it. I’m terrified. What if I go up
to our dorm for a glass of water in the night, when I’m still really tired and not thinking about
it? Then I’ll never *think…* ever again…”

Blythe rolled her eyes. “Snap out of it! Stop being so bloody fatalistic! That’s Harry’s job,
remember? It’s the least you could bleeding do to stay positive!”

“Even when there’s a psychotic stalker on the loose?” a voice asked, striding up to join their
party as the girls entered the Great Hall. Their girls looked over, worried that their secret was
out, but it was Luna. Olivia groaned, obviously unhappy to see the airy blonde. “Could you give a
little bloody warning?”

The blonde looked at her airily. “No, you should only give warning to merpeople and
hippogriffs.”

Olivia stared at Luna, blinking rapidly. “*Yeah*…”

Blythe sighed. “So, what’s up, Luna?”

“Not much,” the blonde murmured, shrugging. “I just came from Potions, and I overheard something
pretty odd from one of the first years.”

“What, that there’s a bloody Snorkack under Draco’s bed?” Olivia quipped crossly.

“No,” Luna said simply, and, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, added, “The only
Snorkack on campus lives in McGonagall’s office, obviously.”

Olivia shook her head, whispering to herself, “Why do I even ask?”

Ginny sighed irritably, rolling her eyes at Luna’s tendency to tell useless, rambling stories.
“*Point*, Luna. What was the *point*?”

“Oh yeah,” Luna said, finally getting back to her story. “Apparently, Draco’s interrogating the
Slytherin seventh years.”

“Why?” Blythe asked, jaw dropping in shock as she voiced the question all of them were
thinking.

“The first year wasn’t very specific,” the blonde replied uncertainly, “but they said it had
something to do with…a stalker?”

-

On unsteady feet, Ginny, Blythe, and Olivia made it to the Gryffindor table and sank down
gratefully onto the benches. Olivia looked at Ginny with shock, obviously still processing what
they had just heard. “Can you guys believe that?”

“Maybe you guys aren’t broken up just yet,” Blythe whispered to Ginny, giggling.

“Lucky me,” Ginny replied wryly in between mouthfuls of *everything—*she had begun eagerly
piling her plate at a downright feverish pace as soon as she sat down. She hadn’t realized quite
how hungry she actually was.

“God, Weasel, leave some for everyone else,” a voice from close to Ginny muttered coldly.

The redhead looked up into the steely grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Cheeks reddening slightly, she swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, and chirped in a chipper voice
that she knew would irritate Draco, “I thought you were interrogating the Slytherins. How’s that
working out for you? Catch the stalker yet?”

His eyes widened; of all the things the Weasley could say, he wasn’t expecting *that*. “How
did you know about that? Everyone’s been holed up in the common room with me all day; there
shouldn’t be anyone that could have told you. Tell me who told you!”

“I just heard it from a little birdie, that’s all,” Ginny replied, and quickly finishing her
plate and giving a quick wave to Blythe and Olivia, the redhead got up to walk out the double doors
with Draco.

-

“I need to get some books from my dorm for History of Magic,” Ginny said uncertainly as the
doors closed behind them. Nodding slightly, Draco turned to walk with her up to Gryffindor Tower.
An uncomfortable silence descended around them as they began the long walk up to the tower. Draco
looked at the ground, Ginny at her shoes. Cheeks blushing slightly, Ginny asked again, “So…how did
the interrogations go?”

“Not well,” Draco admitted grudgingly. “They weren’t sharing anything, if they did know. I was
pretty tenacious, too, Weasel…I can’t see Crabbe or Goyle actually withholding with the torture I
was applying.”

“You enjoy that ‘torturing’ too much,” Ginny replied teasingly, giggling nervously.

“No,” he replied, grinning, glad the awkward silence was broken. “I’m a Slytherin; I enjoy
torture just the right amount.”

Entering the Transfiguration corridor, roughly half the journey up to the Tower, Draco’s eyes
widened as they alighted on someone he’d been interrogating earlier—Pansy Parkinson. She was
knocking on the door of McGonagall’s office, apparently late for a detention of some sort. As Draco
noticed her, much to Ginny’s dismay, Pansy noticed Ginny and Draco.

Grinning snidely, the brunette walked up to where Ginny and Draco were standing. “Not hand
holding or kissing today, I see. Hmm. You know, Draco,” Pansy whispered dangerously, her face
closing in on his as he had done to her earlier, “I don’t think you two are actually dating.”
Looking over at Ginny dangerously, she murmured, “Sure, I guess she’s pretty, but at the end of the
day, Draco, she’s a Weasel. She’s a blood traitor. People of our calibre,” she murmured to Draco,
allowing her finger to trace his cheek, “don’t play with people like *her.*”

Stiffening and forcing Pansy’s finger off his cheek, Draco pushed the brunette away. “I’d rather
play between the classes than play,” he whispered with a tone of finality, eyeing Pansy with utmost
loathing, “between the *species.*”

Grabbing Ginny’s hand, he started to walk away. However, for reasons Draco didn’t understand,
Ginny stopped. The redhead looked from Draco to Pansy and back again. Ginny found herself fixed on
Pansy’s sneering expression. *Stupid cow,* she thought to herself. *I’ll give her something
to bloody grin about.*

Utilizing Draco’s hold on her hand, Ginny pulled him close, enjoying seeing Pansy’s jaw drop
with shock. Ginny’s face mere centimetres from Draco’s, she reached up, tangling her fingers in his
sleek blonde hair, gently guiding his face just a little closer to hers.

Tilting her face upwards, Ginny eagerly captured Draco Malfoy’s lips with her own.

-

**Authoress’ Note:** Hope everyone’s having a happy holiday season so far…sorry for the delay
between updates, things are a little crazy with finals and two jobs and a deployed boyfriend and
whatnot…but things will hopefully be getting a little less psycho soon. Please **review;** that
would cheer me up immensely!



4. Stakeout!
------------

**-**

**Something to Talk About**

**Mei Queen**

**-**

**Authoress’ Note:** I did half this chapter sober months and months ago, then the other half
drunk when I realized I hadn’t finished it…sorry if there are lots of errors. I kinda didn’t
realize how strong this margarita recipe was. Heehee.

**-**

**Mood Music:** “Viva Forever” –Spice Girls, and um…a bunch of Led Zeppelin and Snow
Patrol.

**-**

**RECAP:**

Ginny found herself fixed on Pansy’s sneering expression. *Stupid cow,* she thought to
herself. *I’ll give her something to bloody grin about.*

Utilizing Draco’s hold on her hand, Ginny pulled him close, enjoying seeing Pansy’s jaw drop
with shock. Ginny’s face mere centimetres from Draco’s, she reached up, tangling her fingers in his
sleek blonde hair, gently guiding his face just a little closer to hers.

Tilting her face upwards, Ginny eagerly captured Draco Malfoy’s lips with her own.

**-**

**Chapter 4: Stakeout!**

**-**

When the two teenagers broke apart, Pansy was long since gone, muttering something about “bloody
Weasel blood traitors who have mysterious powers over Slytherin Princes suffering temporary
insanity,” or something to that effect.

Ginny’s eyes met Draco’s as their lips broke the kiss. She blushed to the roots of her crimson
hair, and trained her eyes back on the ground. “It looks like we don’t have an audience
anymore.”

The corner of his mouth tweaked upward slightly— watching the Weasley blush with embarrassment
greatly amused him, but he didn’t want to think about why that might be. “Aye, thank Merlin. That
was pretty impressive of you back there, Weasel.”

She wrinkled her nose at the nickname but accepted the compliment nonetheless. Turning to start
the walk to Gryffindor Tower, she replied, “Thanks. You weren’t so bad, either. That showed Pansy,
I’m sure.”

They chuckled together in a rare moment of camaraderie. Draco looked over at her while easily
matching her quick pace, one of his steps to three of her little ones.

Ginny looked back nervously, uncomfortable with the intensity of Draco’s gaze.
“*What?”*

“Nothing,” he snapped, quickening his pace slightly. She sprinted a little to catch up with
him.

“Wait. What were you going to say?”

Draco stopped walking and reluctantly turned to face the redhead. Deliberately avoiding her eyes
as he said it, he muttered, “I suppose I was going to say that…well… you can be all right
sometimes.”

Ginny looked back at him, bemused expression on her face. “Um…thanks?”

-

A few minutes later, the two arrived at Gryffindor Tower. Draco glanced over at Ginny and
noticed she was showing some major signs of nervousness—palms sweating, eyes trained on the floor,
fidgeting. Normally, he would relish the opportunity to make fun of the nerve-wracked Weasley, but
even he couldn’t find a way to make this situation funny. It seemed sad to Draco that a crazy
lunatic could reduce such a brave and headstrong adversary to the quivering, pale girl in front of
him.

“You’ll be fine,” he said soothingly. “This will be fine.”

She nodded. “I sure as hell hope so.”

Then, grinning wryly as if to say ‘wish me luck,’ she whispered the password to the Fat Lady,
looked back at Draco and said, “If I’m not back in five minutes, send a search party. Or, better
yet, send the damn Order of the Phoenix.”

He snorted. “Of course, because you know I know their addresses. I talk to the one with the pink
hair daily. We’re going out next week.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You know she’s your cousin, right? Your *married*
cousin.”

Chuckling, he muttered, “Weasley, if I didn’t date someone because I was related to them…I’d be
dating Muggles. Hell, I’m even related to *you.*”

She looked back at him crankily. “Your dating Muggles would be a bad thing why? Less Malfoys in
the wizarding world is fine by me. And I think I’ll choose to ignore the fact that we’re
related—pureblood supremacists aren’t my favourite branch on the Weasley family tree.”

“Blood traitors aren’t mine,” Draco replied evenly, the mood still surprisingly light for such a
topic. Merlin, Draco was even *smiling.*

“Is anyone going to actually go *in?* Or am I just going to hang out all day? I have
portraits to visit,” the Fat Lady cut in crossly, portrait still ajar, waiting for someone to
enter. Then, eyeing Draco, then looking back at Ginny, she barked, “I don’t like the look of that
young man. He looks like an evildoer.”

“He’s wearing slacks and a sweater—a school sweater. Why in the name of Merlin does that look
evil? I’m basically wearing that!” Ginny protested irritably, eyeing the Fat Lady with distaste.
Rolling her eyes at the portrait, Ginny added under her breath, “you old hag.”

“What was that, missy?” the Fat Lady demanded sharply.

Draco, meanwhile, chuckled loudly. “Come on, Weaselette. Just get this bloody over with; we have
class soon. As to your accusations of my evildoing, madam, I assure you, they are quite correct. I
do as much evil as I possibly can…at least without doing anything I could be thrown in Azkaban
for.”

Ginny snorted with amusement, took a deep breath, and entered the portrait. But as the portrait
swung shut behind her, she heard the Fat Lady’s response: “Small comfort that is. I’d take a
fully-committed evildoer over a wishy-washy possible criminal any day. Men—no constancy, the lot of
them.”

-

Ginny cautiously ascended the steps to her dorm, her heartbeat thumping just a little louder in
her chest with every single step. *Oh God. Please don’t let there be more dead things…no
poison…just for once, can’t I open the bloody door to my dorm and have there be nothing there?
Would that be so bad? Can’t the stalker take a bloody day off?*

Brushing away her dark thoughts, she closed her hand around the doorknob, and, taking a deep
breath, turned it.

Then, as if her prayers of the moment before were answered, Ginny saw…nothing out of the
ordinary. The dorm looked perfectly neat. All the beds were made, the trunks were closed, nothing
was on Ginny’s bed that wasn’t supposed to be, the windows were closed, and the water pitcher (the
last thing Ginny checked in case of poison), was empty. Huh.

Ginny, obviously slightly bewildered by this turn of events, grabbed the books she needed and
quickly exited the dorm…preferably before a bloody Hungarian Horntail could swoop in and eat her
alive.

-

Draco was anxiously waiting when Ginny exited the portrait. “What happened? What was up there?
Are you okay?”

Ginny shook her head, obviously still uncertain of what just happened. “Everything
was…fine.”

Draco, who was getting ready to jump into his fake-boyfriend “patting Ginny on the back in
concern” routine, stopped short. “Wait…what? Everything was okay? There wasn’t anything up there
waiting to eat you alive? But….why? That’s the first day in weeks!”

“I know,” the redhead replied unsteadily, leaning against the cool stone wall to catch her
breath and steady her beating heart. “It’s a little crazy for me too, remember? But now I’m
wondering if I just stopped off too early in the day.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Ginny replied, remembering, “there have been other times, when this stalker thing first
started happening, that Liv and Blythe would come up with me to get books in the morning, and
nothing would be out of the ordinary, but then…” she said, trailing off.

Draco picked up where she left off, finally understanding. “…the stalker would have a present
for you when classes were over.”

Ginny nodded grimly.

He sighed, gingerly taking her hand and squeezing it. “It’ll be all right, Red. If any bird
could make it through this…” he murmured, allowing his voice to trail off as he caught her eyes
with a teasing expression.

She grinned in reply, thankful that someone was still around that didn’t treat her as though she
were made of glass. Draco wasn’t afraid to tease her. She was surprised to find that she genuinely
liked that about him. “Thanks. You’re so supportive, Mr Malfoy.”

“Thanks,” he replied, chuckling. “I try. Well…actually, I don’t. All skills come naturally to
me.”

Ginny snorted. “Oh really? Even caring and compassion?”

“Yes,” Malfoy countered evenly, lifting his nose high in the air. Then as they started walking
to class, he grinned wryly, saying, “…but just because skills come naturally doesn’t mean I choose
to employ all of them, Weaselette.”

-

As the day went on, Ginny checked with Blythe and Olivia, but nobody had seen anything out of
the ordinary in their dorm. The lack of disaster, though a welcome change for Ginny, was starting
to feel sort of unnerving.

“He’s got to act soon,” she murmured to Luna during Herbology. Ginny was so tense, she’d already
accidentally uprooted the Flowering Fauna she was supposed to be pruning. Luna looked at the
now-useless Fauna with eyes slightly wider than usual.

“How do you even know it’s a he?” the blonde countered, taking the dead Fauna from Ginny and
throwing it in the bin. “It’s probably a she, otherwise the stalker wouldn’t make it up your
booby-trapped staircase.”

“Well, technically, that’s true,” the redhead replied thoughtfully. “But…”

“But what?”

“Couldn’t they be bringing things in through the window?” Ginny asked, accidentally uprooting
another Fauna.

Luna irritably grabbed the clippers out of Ginny’s hand, and put yet another Fauna plant in the
bin. “I suppose,” she conceded gruffly.

Ginny, now with no clippers and nothing to do, leaned on her hands and watched Luna work for
both of them for a few moments. Then, inspiration struck.

“I have an idea.”

-

“You want to *what?*” the 7th Year Slytherin demanded, looking at Ginny as if
she had completely lost her mind. In Draco Malfoy’s humble opinion, the redhead most definitely
*had.*

“I want to do a stakeout,” she replied stubbornly, refusing to allow Malfoy’s incredulous
expression to dissuade her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “Why don’t you think it’s
a good idea?”

“For one,” he said, speaking very slowly as if he were speaking to someone very dense, “it means
that this stalker might actually run into *you.* You’ve been lucky that you’ve avoided this
person in the past, that all they’ve done is ransack your room with a menagerie. But if you do this
abysmally *stupid* idea, you’re putting yourself directly in harm’s way. I won’t allow it.
Even Weasleys aren’t *that* idiotic.”

She jutted out her bottom lip in defiance. “Maybe I *am* that idiotic, Malfoy. What are you
gonna do about it?”

“Draco! My name is Draco!” he corrected in exasperation, looking nervously around the corridor
to see if any students had overheard his “girlfriend’s” misstep. No one had, thank Merlin.

Pushing her into a nearby deserted classroom and closing the door after them, he rounded on her
irritably. “What do you want me to do here, Weasel? I can’t let you do this. You could get yourself
*and* your friends badly hurt, if not killed.”

She knew that what Malfoy was saying was very logical, but she certainly was not going to admit
the fact. “I’m going to do this whether you support it or not. I just felt that as my bodyguard, it
was my duty to inform you about this.”

He covered his eyes with his hand, groaning. “Fine, Weasley. Fine. I’ll help you.”

She wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t expected Draco to react this way at all. “How are you planning
to do that?”

“Obviously, I’m going to do the stakeout with you,” he answered, still sighing. He didn’t like
the situation anymore than she did, but if the Weasel died, who else would play girlfriend with him
in front of that insipid Parkinson?

“When?” Ginny asked, slightly uncomfortable with this new arrangement, but glad that Draco was
letting her go through with her plan nonetheless.

He didn’t meet her eyes when he answered. “Tonight.”

-

On any ordinary night, a Weasley and a Malfoy camped outside the Fat Lady might look a little
off. However, tonight was a Friday, so ties were being loosened, plaits undone, books set aside for
the weekend, and a carefree atmosphere filling the air. Not only was it Friday, though, but the
Friday before one of the bigger Quidditch matches of the season- Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw. Though
neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor, who boasted the strongest teams currently, were competing, the
match was big because it would decide which teams made it to the semi-finals for the House Cup. The
excitement was tangible. Students were out in the corridor until just moments before curfew,
boasting their house’s capabilities or researching that last Wronsky Feint.

“It could be anyone on a night like this, Draco,” Ginny groaned, watching as what seemed like
the umpteenth First Year nervously sprinted for the Fat Lady, anxious to make it in before
curfew.

“I know,” he affirmed simply. After a few moments of silence, he looked over at the redhead to
his left. “Are Blythe and Olivia in position?”

Ginny nodded mutely. Blythe was guarding the corridor itself, making sure nobody went in or out
of the 6th Year Gryffindor girls’ dorm. Olivia, meanwhile, was quite put out with her
position- she had been made to guard the dorm itself, making sure nothing came in through the
locked windows.

“Why do I have to do the dorm?” she’d whined earlier, when Ginny, Blythe and Olivia were
figuring out their roles for the evening.

“You scream the loudest,” Blythe answered simply. And it was definitely true. Olivia had even
woken up the Gryffindor *boys’* dorms when the snakes were found on Ginny’s bed.

Olivia sat on the floor of the dorm, pouting. “But it’s creepy in here.”

To appease Olivia, Ginny and Blythe lit every possible light in the room, turned on some music,
and brought up some candy and old issues of *Witch Weekly.* “Feel better?” Ginny asked Olivia,
amused with her friend’s antics.

Olivia grinned. “Yup,” she replied as she leaned against the bedpost and began sucking on a
Sugar Quill, all while paging through the closest magazine.

“Staking out suits her,” Blythe muttered, smiling wryly at Ginny.

“Hey, you never know,” the redhead retorted, exiting the dorm with Blythe (to no notice of
Olivia). “Maybe the stalker will come between magazines.”

-

Now Ginny and Draco were stuck out in the cold of the hallway, all waiting on an evildoer
neither was sure was coming.

“This stakeout nonsense is *boring,*” Draco complained, leaning his head against the wall
in annoyance. What was he supposed to do? He had to stay out here as long as Ginny did, but he was
bored out of his *mind!* He had been sitting in silence with the Weasel for something like
three hours!

“We could talk,” she offered quietly. The silence was getting to her, too, though she wasn’t
quite as vocal about it as Draco was. Hell, *nobody* was quite as vocal about their annoyances
as Draco Malfoy.

“About *what*? The weather? Quidditch? What do we possibly have to talk about,
Weaselette?”

“Merlin, never mind,” the redhead muttered, expelling a sigh. “I was just trying to make
conversation. You don’t have to be such a prat about it.”

He looked over at her grudgingly. She was right; he knew that.

A few minutes had passed in tense silence before he asked quietly, “So…what’s your favourite
Quidditch team?”

Ginny looked over at him, startled. Then, smiling slightly, she answered, “The Wasps. You?”

“Same,” he replied, grinning. “I’ve always thought your brother was barmy for supporting the
Cannons. They’re a bloody lost cause if I’ve ever seen one, and for Merlin’s sake, has anyone ever
told your prat brother that orange is a completely unattractive colour on him? It makes him look
like sherbet.”

Ginny snorted. Draco Malfoy giving fashion advice. Honestly, what in the world was next? They
both chuckled for a few moments, before silence set in again. Ginny looked down the corridor
anxiously, not seeing anyone or anything. She fidgeted nervously. “Blythe or Liv would have sent
someone down here by now if they’d found anything, you think?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course they would. They’re not too daft for Hogwarts birds, I’m sure
they’ll figure it out.”

Ginny looked at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Why is it that when you try to compliment
someone, you still manage to insult them and make them feel beneath you?”

Draco shrugged. “Just a gift, I suppose.”

The redhead let it slide. She couldn’t change Malfoy’s nature, and quite frankly, she didn’t
want him in her life long enough to even try. They were together out of mutual necessity, nothing
more…at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Finally, the silence began to get to Ginny again. “What’s your favourite flavour at
Fortescue’s?”

Draco looked over at her, surprised that she was prolonging the conversation neither of them
truly wanted to have. “Strawberry.”

“Me too,” Ginny murmured, eyes trailing to the ground, remembering happier times when her
brothers would pick out all the actual strawberries in her ice cream, leaving none for her. It used
to make her so angry. What she wouldn’t give to see them again…

“What are you thinking about, Red?”

“Huh?” she asked, startled. “Oh. Just…my family.”

“You miss them.” It was a statement, not a question.

Ginny nodded mutely. “My brothers would never find themselves in this situation, you know?
They’re all strong. Charlie tames dragons, for fuck’s sake! None of them would have to beg a Malfoy
to help them. It just makes me feel so *pathetic*…”

The redhead trailed off, training her eyes on the floor in case she started crying. Draco gulped
nervously. This wasn’t his field. Comforting crying women did not come remotely naturally to him.
For perhaps the one and only time in his life, Draco Malfoy wished he was more like the bloody Boy
Who Lived.

“That’s not true,” he said tentatively, watching her to gauge her reaction.

She snorted. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Draco replied, more confident now. He leaned over to run his hand in small circles
on her back. “I’m sure your prat brother Ron would find himself in the exact same situation, but
he’d just be out of luck. I don’t fancy snogging *him.*”

Ginny grinned despite the frustrating situation and the tears that were threatening to leak out
of her chocolate eyes. “Thanks, Draco. That means a lot.”

He smiled unsteadily, taking his hand back. Scanning the corridors to avoid her gaze, he said
softly, “You should get up and go to bed. I’ll stay out here for a couple more hours, but I don’t
think whoever’s doing this is coming tonight. They’re probably waiting for a time they’ll be able
to catch us unawares.”

Ginny nodded and got up to leave, but stopped when a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Draco, do
you think they could attack during the Quidditch game tomorrow? You know, when the tower will be
empty?”

Draco indeed thought that, in fact, he’d been processing that possibility all evening. “I do.
But first get some sleep, Red. We’ll work this out tomorrow.”

-

Ginny had said the password and was getting ready to climb in the portrait hole and head to
sleep when she heard footsteps coming round the bend. Not the hurried click-clack of professors,
not the stealthy swish of Mrs. Norris, but something infinitely more dangerous- student shoes.

The redhead turned around immediately, getting out of the portrait to stand behind Draco, who
was already on his feet, wand at the ready. He turned to face her with frustration. “I told you to
go to bed, Red! Now you’re a liability! Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Turning, Draco came face to face with…Romilda Vane.

Ginny’s eyebrows lurched skyward. “What are you still doing out, Romilda? It’s late for you,
isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Library,” she replied, before making for the Fat Lady.

Draco wasn’t going to let her off that easy, however. Moving to block her path, he asked, “Oh
really, Vane? Because, according to my calculations, the Library should have closed three hours
ago- when you were supposed to be in bed.”

The brunette rounded on him angrily. “Oh, really, Malfoy? And I suppose it’s perfectly all right
that Weasley here is up at this hour?”

If her words made him uneasy, he didn’t show it. Instead, Draco smirked. “Ginny’s my girlfriend.
I’m prefect. She can be up if she wants.”

Romilda pouted, wrinkling her nose prettily. “I don’t see what you see in her, Malfoy. She’s
very plain- doesn’t seem your style at all. However…*I’m* available anytime you’re
interested.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. She had never liked Romilda, especially given the fact that Romilda’s
stupid chocolates almost poisoned her brother, but she disliked the backstabbing brunette even more
now.

“What a charming offer. The bird Potter didn’t want. You know, I can’t say that’s much to my
tastes, but thanks anyway,” Draco retorted sarcastically.

Romilda snorted. “Oh, well, aren’t we particular? That’s a little odd coming from someone
supposedly ‘dating’ yet another of Potter’s castoffs.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. Oh, *how* she wanted to deck this bint. If only Draco would bloody
move out of her way…

Draco stayed in front of her though, as if sensing the Weasley’s fraying temper. “Yes, but he
actually *wanted* Ginny, if only for a time. He never wanted you, and though I never thought
I’d agree with the bastard, I can certainly see why.”

Romilda’s eyes darkened. “Bollocks! I don’t believe anything you’re saying, Malfoy. Actually…”
she said, looking from Ginny to Draco with a devious glint in her brown eyes, “I don’t believe that
you two are dating.”

“Why does everyone keep bloody saying that?” Ginny asked in exasperation. “Yes, we are.”

Then, if for no other reason than to prove a point to that stupid hag Romilda, Ginny got on her
tiptoes to kiss Draco Malfoy soundly on the mouth.

A few moments later, when Romilda had left out of sheer disgust, Ginny settled on the heels of
her feet, looking thoughtfully up at Draco.

Draco looked back at her intently for a few moments before saying, “We need to make this more
believable, Gin. Too many people are starting to ask questions. I can’t just keep snogging you
every five seconds to prove we’re legitimate.”

“Or…” Ginny replied, unable to believe she was actually giving Malfoy the permission to do this,
she murmured, “you *could.*”

-

**Authoress’ Note (part 2):** I am so incredibly sorry about the wait. Please review,
though!



5. Match Day Madness
--------------------



**-**

**Something to Talk About**

**Mei Queen**

**-**

**Authoress' Note:** It's been four years. My bad. If you'd like to see my varied
attempts at excuses, please read the latest chapter of “Whip Him into Shape,” where my
authoress' note is actually more like a novel...

This chapter is dedicated to **dracokitten**, for reading and reviewing this morning. You
know you have special reviewers when they know you haven't updated in four years, and still
review anyways. :)

**-**

**Mood Music:** Imagine Dragons and The Lumineers :)

**-**

**RECAP:**

If her words made him uneasy, he didn't show it. Â Instead, Draco smirked.Â
"Ginny's my girlfriend. Â I'm prefect.Â She can be up if she wants."

Romilda pouted, wrinkling her nose prettily. Â "I don't see what you see in her,
Malfoy. Â She's very plain- doesn't seem your style at all.Â However…I'm available
anytime you're interested."

Ginny's eyes widened.Â She had never liked Romilda, especially given the fact that
Romilda's stupid chocolates almost poisoned her brother, but she disliked the backstabbing
brunette even more now.

"What a charming offer.Â The bird Potter didn't want. Â You know, I can't say
that's much to my tastes, but thanks anyway," Draco retorted sarcastically.

Romilda snorted.Â "Oh, well, aren't we particular? Â That's a little odd coming
from someone supposedly 'dating' yet another of Potter's castoffs."

Ginny's eyes narrowed.Â Oh, *how* she wanted to deck this bint. Â If only Draco would
bloody move out of her way…

Draco stayed in front of her though, as if sensing the Weasley's fraying temper. Â
"Yes, but he actually wanted Ginny, if only for a time.Â He never wanted you, and though I
never thought I'd agree with the bastard, I can certainly see why."

Romilda's eyes darkened.Â "Bollocks!Â I don't believe anything you're saying,
Malfoy. Â Actually…" she said, looking from Ginny to Draco with a devious glint in her brown
eyes, "I don't believe that you two are dating."

"Why does everyone keep bloody saying that?" Ginny asked in exasperation.Â "Yes,
we are."

Then, if for no other reason than to prove a point to that stupid hag Romilda, Ginny got on her
tiptoes to kiss Draco Malfoy soundly on the mouth.

A few moments later, when Romilda had left out of sheer disgust, Ginny settled on the heels of
her feet, looking thoughtfully up at Draco. Â

Draco looked back at her intently for a few moments before saying, "We need to make this
more believable, Gin. Â Too many people are starting to ask questions.Â I can't just keep
snogging you every five seconds to prove we're legitimate."

"Or…" Ginny replied, unable to believe she was actually giving Malfoy the permission
to do this, she murmured, "you could."

**-**

**Chapter 5: Match Day Madness**

**-**

The excitement was tangible that morning at breakfast. Students wore their House colors in the
form of scarves, hats, and in Luna Lovegood's case, a real talking raven hat. Rolled-up posters
sat on the benches next to the more artistic students, ready to be unfurled out on the pitch later.
Everyone was eager to see the outcome of the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match -- everyone,
that is, except Ginevra Weasley.

Ginny was more concerned about the stalker situation she'd been putting up with for the past
few weeks, you see. Though Draco Malfoy had been a help to the investigation, she still didn't
feel any closer to finding out his or her identity. He had even done a stakeout with her the night
before, but as if sensing their presence, the stalker didn't try anything for the hours upon
hours the Slytherin and Gryffindor had been waiting in the hallway. But today, a day when basically
the entire school would be out on the Quidditch pitch, well, today was an ideal day to do dark
deeds in the Gryffindor dorms.

*Should I even go to the match today?* Ginny wondered to herself, twirling an apple about
in her palm. *There are few things worse to imagine than running into the stalker in person, but
what if by going to the match, I'm essentially giving permission for this harassment to
continue? I'd be seeing an opportunity to confront the stalker in a time when he or she would
be likely to strike, and I wouldn't have taken it.*

“Hey, Gin.”

Ginny shook off her reverie, and looked up into the steely grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. He was
standing rather awkwardly behind Olivia and Blythe, plainly uncomfortable to be this close to where
Gryffindors sit. “Hi, Draco.”

“Can we talk for a second? Outside, I mean,” he clarified, gesturing to the double doors at the
end of the hall.

She nodded and got up to follow him. Her heart jumped slightly in surprise when he reached back
for her hand.

Ginny was pretending to be Draco's girlfriend in exchange for his bodyguard protection. Most
of the time, this pretending didn't entail much--just the occasional snog when Pansy Parkinson
happened to be in passing. However, lately their spotty acting performances had been raising too
many questions. She and Draco had discussed late last night how to act a bit more committed, so
fewer people would question if they were really dating. One of her solutions had been this, holding
hands basically everywhere.

His solutions, naturally, involved more snogging. She didn't know if she should feel
complimented by that.

-

Outside the double doors, they immediately turned to the right, away from prying eyes. Draco
quickly released her hand, and Ginny was surprised to see that she missed the warmth and pressure
that had been there just moments before.

“So, I've been thinking...” they both began at once.

She grinned. “Go ahead.”

He smiled back briefly. “I've been thinking that I'm going to stand guard at your dorm
again today. It's really an ideal time for your stalker to make a move.”

She nodded. “I'd been thinking the same thing, actually. But I was thinking last night,
Draco--maybe he--or she, I guess, didn't do anything yesterday because we were in plain sight
in front of the Fat Lady. Maybe we should hide today, somewhere where we have a clear view of the
portrait.”

Draco tapped his finger against his chin. “You may be right. We could catch them unawares, have
the element of surprise. Whoever's doing this won't want to be caught, so it would make
sense if they had delayed their plans yesterday after seeing us there waiting for them.”

“Right,” she nodded. “So when do you want to meet and find our hiding spot?”

“*Our* hiding spot, Red? I didn't say you'd be doing this with me.”

“But I did the stakeout with you just yesterday!” she retorted. She was plainly angry with the
controlling blond Slytherin now.

“So? You said yourself that the stalker was unlikely to strike yesterday. Today will be more
dangerous, and you'd be safer on the pitch,” he said slowly, like she was extremely dense for
not seeing these facts immediately.

“Oh, like you care about my safety now?!” Ginny's voice had reached banshee-level
screeching. Draco immediately tried to hush her -- students were starting to finish their
breakfasts, and he'd rather not have them walking in on his idea of personal hell: deafness by
redhead.

Ginny, however, didn't care that Draco was getting embarrassed about how loud she was being.
In her mind, *he* was the one being unreasonable. She'd had to deal with this from the
very beginning. She was the one being harassed. She deserved to be there to find out immediately
who had been doing this to her, and she sure as hell deserved to give that person the first dose of
some of her favorite hexes.

Draco was beginning to see that trying to hush a Weasley was a losing battle. As the Great Hall
doors began to open to let out the morning breakfast crowd, he did the first thing that came to
mind: he reached down, cupped the redhead's face, and pressed his lips to hers. He traced
senseless patterns on her cheek with his thumb and sweetly deepened the kiss in a way he'd
never tried before with her. He nibbled gently on her bottom lip and ran his fingers through her
soft auburn waves.

Finally, he dared to pull away, and to his great relief, there was no more screeching.
Ginny's eyes were wide, her mouth a perfect “o” of surprise. Draco noted with satisfaction that
her lower lip looked slightly redder than usual, almost swollen from his ministrations. He
realized, then, that they'd had an audience. Most of the students who'd just left breakfast
had been watching and had even stopped to stare.

Ginny noted dimly that, as usual, Luna was watching placidly, as if she had expected this turn
of events from the very beginning.

When Draco spoke, his voice seemed huskier than usual, and he spoke in a quiet whisper. “All
right, you can stay with me today. But we do this my way.”

She thought she nodded in response, but honestly, she wasn't sure.

-

One hour later, Ginny found herself in the hallway outside the Gryffindor common room for the
second time in two days. She scuffed her trainers against the cold floor, pacing back and forth in
front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. *Where the fuck is Draco? He was supposed to be here ten
minutes ago! He's never late...*

Most students had gone straight to the pitch from breakfast. Ginny could hear the din from the
pitch even from here. She started turning from side to side in the corridor, trying to find a good
hiding spot that she -*and Draco, if he ever chose to show his bloody Slytherin prince face-*
could use later.

“What are you doing there, Weaselette? Looking for Galleons?”

She stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face
with Draco Malfoy for the second time today. Since the first time had gone *so* bloody well,
Ginny found herself distinctly on edge. Her lip still felt a little swollen from where he'd
kissed her.

“Not that it's any of your business, *Malfoy,* but no, I am not. I was looking for a
hiding spot for us to use during the match.”

Draco quickly looked around the corridor to see if anyone heard his “girlfriend” calling him by
his surname, but the hallway was thankfully deserted. He turned back to her, annoyance apparent on
his features.

“Not that it's any of *your* business, but *I've* already found one. Found it
about twenty minutes ago.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean when you said you were going to meet me in front of
the Fat Lady?”

“Oh, Merlin, Red. It was an estimation, not exact, for fuck's sake. Besides, I said I'd
find a good spot for us to watch the portrait, and I did. Let's try to be civil, and just
bloody use that spot I found.”

She sighed. He was right--he'd found a hiding spot for the both of them on a day when she
was sure he'd rather be at the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school. She could at least
be civil to him. “Sorry, you're right.”

“I'm sorry, what was that?” he asked, still slightly shocked.

“You're *right.* Would you like me to send you a written version by owl?”

He turned and started heading to an abandoned classroom, and Ginny reluctantly followed.
“Actually, yes, if you wouldn't mind sending me a written version to that effect, I'd
definitely appreciate it. I'll bring it out anytime you accuse me of something...so, in all
likelihood, at least five times a day.”

“That will be one busy piece of parchment,” she muttered. Part of her wanted to be annoyed with
Draco for his flippant replies, but the other part was simply amused.

He snorted. “Yes, yes it will, Red.”

-

“How long has it been now?” Ginny groaned.

Draco sighed. “At least a few hours.”

They were leaning against some unused desks, the door to the classroom open just wide enough to
allow the two of them an unobstructed view of the Gryffindor portrait.

“So we've been sitting in silence for...” she muttered, trailing off.

“...at least two hours, yeah.”

Ginny shook her head. “I think I'm going to go insane if nothing happens soon. Do you want
to talk?”

He sat up, running his hand through his icy blond hair. “What about?”

“Anything. Don't care. We had this awkward conversation on what to converse about last
night, didn't we?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It was a little circular, wasn't it?”

“You could say that,” she replied, chuckling. She leaned back against the wall next to Draco and
looked over at him with a grin. “So...is it your question or mine?”

“What?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

“The game we were playing last night.”

Draco's eyebrows narrowed. “That was a game? That is *not* a game. Quidditch is a game.
This is an inane way to pass time.”

“...which is what most games are, anyway,” she quipped. “Fine, I'll go first. What is your
favorite color?”

“Either dark green or silver, probably-”

“-well, that wasn't predictable at all,” she interjected quickly, giggling.

He smirked. “And you, Little Miss Gryffindor?”

She attempted her most serious expression. “Red or gold, of course...Merlin, I can't even
say that short sentence with a straight face. Purple.”

“That's a decent colour, thankfully not a bloody school-spirited one.”

She snorted. “Oh, yeah. The antithesis of school spirit, that's me.”

-

About twenty minutes later, they'd exhausted all of the possible “favorite” questions either
of them could think of, and Draco had begun to realize that this inane game could actually be
useful to both of them.

“People keep saying we're not a believable couple, right?” he asked quickly.

She nodded. Of course they did. It had been a constant source of annoyance to her lately,
actually. “So?”

“We could use this game to find out more about what the other one likes...it could help make
this relationship a little more believable.”

“That's a good idea.” Ginny was surprised to find that she actually believed it *was*,
in fact, a good idea. “Okay, then. What would your perfect birthday present be?”

He grinned. “Um...I don't really care that much about presents. I don't need
anything.”

“But if you had to pick something,” she pressed.

“A new owl,” he answered quickly. “Mine's kinda a jerk, to be honest.”

“Your owl is a jerk,” she echoed hollowly. At first she couldn't believe his answer, and
then she thought it was hilarious. “I'm sorry, your *owl* is a *jerk*?! Maybe he
learned from the best over there in Slytherin.”

“She, actually,” Draco replied soberly. “She's quite the bitch.”

Ginny snorted. “Of course she is. Oh, Merlin. Your question.”

“No,” he countered. “You have to answer, too. Your perfect birthday gift?”

She grinned. “A kneazle. Preferably a live one, to make up for the ones slaughtered on my bed
last week.”

By the end of that sentence, neither Ginny or Draco were smiling, and both of their gazes
traveled to the portrait down the hall. Still, nothing out of the ordinary. Come to think of it,
neither of them had seen anyone pass in the hours they'd been waiting there.

“All right, fluffy kneazles, check,” he said quietly, ending the awkward moment of silence that
had settled between them. “My turn. How do you like to be kissed?”

“You seem to have figured that out pretty well on your own today,” she murmured, her gaze
trailing to the ground. Her cheeks were reddening; she could feel the sudden heat, but only got
more nervous as a result.

“The nibbling thing?” he asked curiously. *Did she really like that? I'd partially only
been doing that just to shut her up...but I have to admit, I did enjoy it...*

She was sure her cheeks must look like they were on fire now. How embarrassing. “Yes, that.”

He had no idea what possessed him to ask what he did next, maybe it was his thoughts of how much
he'd enjoyed it earlier: “Would you like to try it again?”

Ginny's eyebrows knit in confusion. “But, Draco, there's nobody here to see it.”

“I know,” he murmured. “It'd be...practice.”

Her heartbeat was beginning to escalate. Her cheeks were still warm, but she looked at
Draco's grey eyes, eyes that seemed so unbelievably intent and serious. “Okay.”

-

Twenty minutes later, the clacking of student shoes interrupted their kiss.

They broke apart immediately, both trying to be as quiet as possible. Draco silently grabbed
Ginny's hand and pushed her behind him. She peered over his shoulder to get a better view, both
staring eagerly through the crack in the doorway.

The shoes were coming down the corridor where their abandoned classroom was located, so first
Ginny and Draco saw legs. Female legs wearing black ballet flats.

Then a skirt. Then a jumper. She was thin.

Then...brown hair. Dark, glossy chestnut hair swung down this girl's back, obedient in a way
that Ginny Weasley knew hers would never be. A plaid headband held it neatly back.

“Can you see her face?” Ginny whispered softly in Draco's ear.

He shivered. God, why did the Weaselette's voice affect him in this way? “No,” he whispered
back. “But she looks about the right height to be...”

The girl stopped in front of the Fat Lady and leaned in to whisper the password. As the portrait
swung open, the girl looked left and right, up and down the corridor. In that moment, Ginny and
Draco both clearly saw her face, and they spoke her name at the same time.

“Romilda.”

-

**Authoress' Note (Part 2):** Reviews are good for the soul.



