Draco continued staring at Ginny though he was constantly telling himself that he shouldn't. He'd watch her as she ate her breakfast in the morning, watch her as she ran to classes, invariably late, watch her as she laughed with her oaf of a boyfriend, Dean Something-or-other.
He knew exactly what she liked to eat, knew that she always turned her nose up at tea in the morning and he knew that she always wore her hair pulled up into a messy bun on Tuesdays because, he assumed, she had herbology that day and she didn't want it to get in the way. Draco knew all these little details about Ginny and it was making him sick.
If there was one thing that Draco had had drilled into him by his father; it was that he was supposed to have control. It didn't matter if it was just over a stupid house-elf, the point was that you were supposed to be in control all the time. And so Draco hated his new found fascination with Ginny Weasley because he couldn't do a damn thing to control it.
He couldn't stop himself looking over at her in the morning to check she was still there and he couldn't help himself imagining what her long red hair would feel like running through his fingers.
And it didn't help that alongside his new fascination with the youngest Weasley there was always the distinct possibility that the elder Weasley, or even Potter, might bash his face in if they found out about the sordid little fantasies involving Ginny, chocolate spread and the Astronomy Tower he spent Arithmancy thinking up.
But Potter and Weasley weren't Draco's problem at the moment. Because stood in front of him, a scowl on her pink lips, stood Ginny Weasley.
"Well, if it isn't the littlest Weasley," Draco drawled, leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. He hoped to God that he didn't look like he was trying to work out what she was wearing under her robes. And he also hoped to God that no-one saw them in the empty corridor. It would ruin both their reputations. Not that he cared about hers.
Ginny raised an eyebrow in a gesture worthy of a Slytherin. "I'm surprised you know my name, Malfoy."
Draco copied her expression and snickered. "I didn't say I knew your name. It's perfectly obvious that you're a Weasley. Though if you're not then genetics really is playing a cruel game by handing out that hair colour to more than one disadvantaged family that have to dress their daughter in robes that look as though they were bought off the back of a magic carpet."
Ginny coloured and Draco found that there was something else he now knew about her. She was even cuter when she angry. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"Cutting," smirked Draco.
Ginny went on as though he hadn't spoken. She stood straight and stared defiantly into his eyes. "You've been staring at me."
Draco controlled the urge to roll his eyes and say 'took you long enough' and instead concentrated on perfecting a completely composed mask. "Have I now?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap, Malfoy. I've seen you."
Draco laughed shortly causing Ginny's eyes to widen a fraction in surprise. "And what if I have?" he asked, stepping away from the wall and into her personal space.
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and stepped back. "Then I'd like you to stop."
"Oh, don't like the attention, do we?"
Ginny smirked. "So you are admitting that you stare at me, are you?"
Draco stepped away from her, his hands held up in front of him, a sneer on his lips. "Answering a question with a question. Wonderful interrogation techniques there, Weasley."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ginny turned to go. "Just stop whatever sick and twisted game you're playing, Malfoy."
"Game? Dear Ginny, I don't play games."
Ginny turned to smirk at him over her shoulder. "So you do know my name."
Draco cursed under his breath as she walked away. He really didn't like to lose control.
*
The copy of the Daily Prophet that was dropped into Draco's bowl of cereal looked exactly the same as the one that had been delivered to the table every day for six years, albeit a bit more soggy. But this one had the Slytherins surrounding Draco suddenly sneaking surreptitious glances at the front page.
Draco gingerly lifted the paper from his breakfast, ignoring Pansy's amused snickers. Muttering a quick drying charm, Draco scanned the headlines, mindful of Blaise's curious gaze.
"Anything?" asked Theodore quietly, tapping his fork against the side of the table nervously.
Draco folded the paper up and threw it on the table, returning to his cereal. The others looked at him irritably till Theodore leaned over and poked Draco in the arm with his fork.
"Hey! Would you please refrain from poking me with your fat encrusted eating utensils?"
Theodore shrugged, "Sure. If you tell us if the paper says anything."
"What? Have all of you lost the gift of literacy?"
Blaise rolled his eyes and retrieved the paper, shaking his head as he scanned the articles. "Nothing." He threw the paper down harshly, knocking the serving dishes.
Draco snorted. "What did you expect? A twelve-page spread on the prisoners of Azkaban? Maybe a piece on their likes and dislikes and oh, yes their favourite foods in case anyone feels the urge to send some sustenance their way? Or perhaps a word or two on who was winning the inter-prison beauty contest?" Draco threw down his spoon, his appetite suddenly gone. "They're in there. They're forgotten. They don't matter anymore." Draco spat the words out harshly and he saw Millicent lay a consoling hand on Crabbe's shoulder.
"Draco," Blaise started, his voice as comforting as it was possible for his voice to be.
"No," said Draco and the table stilled, the unmistakeable air of authority that permeated his voice clear to everyone. "My father is in there. Crabbe's father is in there. Teddy's father is in there. And they put themselves in there."
Draco looked each of them in the eye as he leaned over and grabbed the newspaper. Draco slowly began to tear it up. "And news of them won't be in here. Because they are in there doing nothing." He swept his gaze over those who were listening. "Don't you think it's about time we stopped looking to see what was happening and actually made things happen?"
One by one they all nodded their heads and Draco felt a thrill of power. His hand instinctively went to his left forearm and he let a small, feral smile alight his features at the thought of what would be there. Then he heard a familiar laugh and his eyes latched onto the figure of Ginny giggling at something Oafish Dean was saying. His hand fell from his arm. Somehow Draco couldn't imagine Ginny liking a Dark Mark.
*
"That was some speech." Blaise dropped into line next to Draco as he strode along the empty hall, down to the potions classroom.
Draco shook his head. "Ridiculous propagandas."
"God, yes," Blaise agreed, laughing. "Though I particularly liked the segment of your performance where you ripped up the paper. That was pure entertainment."
Draco grinned at him. "That was pretty good, wasn't it?" Draco cocked his head, considering. "It might have more of an impact if I'd set it on fire though." Draco sighed dramatically. "Though there are those pesky rules about fire hazards. They really are ridiculous."
"Remind me to take away your wand when you're in one of your arson-inducing moods."
"I'd use matches if I really wanted to set something on fire."
"You don't have any matches."
"Fine then, a magnifying glass."
"Draco."
"Maybe two sticks."
"Draco."
"Perhaps just sheer force of will."
"Aren't those Muggle methods? Apart from the last one which is plainly just one of your insane ideas."
"Yeah, they're all Muggle." The pair had reached the potions classroom and Draco pushed the door open, revealing an empty room with Severus Snape sat at the desk.
"Then how do you know them?" Blaise asked from behind him.
"Hello, Professor," Draco said cheerfully before answering in an undertone to Blaise; "Father taught me. Something about being able to torture people to severe, dehabilitating pain under any conditions with any tools you have handy. I wasn't really listening, it was all pretty boring after the initial torture talk."
"Torture, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape said smoothly, standing to walk towards the two boys.
Draco grinned, perching himself on a desk. "Yup, of small, defenceless animals. Me and Blaise are going to go round some up after this and throw them off the North Tower for fun."
Snape sighed. "Draco."
"Don't worry, Professor. I'll keep Draco in line," Blaise said, jumping up onto the table next to Draco. "We'll only take those animals that look like they might be some sort of endangered species."
"Thank you so much, Blaise," Snape replied dryly, crossing his arms. "Though I do love this stimulating conversation I have an actual life to lead, you know."
Blaise looked around the dark room with raised eyebrows. "Really?"
Draco elbowed him and said in an exaggerated whisper; "Shh, Blaise, obviously he's going down to Hogsmeade later and is going to dance the night away to some hideous old music in the special room at the back of the Three Broomsticks."
"Boys," Snape's voice this time held a distinct warning tone that they recognised as him quickly reaching the end of his tether.
Draco instantly sobered, leaning forward and fixing his potions professor with a serious stare. "We wanted to know if there was any news."
Snape faltered for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for both Draco and Blaise to catch it, both having been trained since birth to read others. "What makes you think I know anything?"
Draco stood, ignoring Blaise's warning hand on his arm. "Because you speak to him."
Snape stared at Draco, both their faces impassive. "I know as much as your mother, Draco."
Draco tried to hold the gaze but Snape broke it, turning his back on the teenager and walking to his desk. "Don't you have small, furry creatures to ensnare and torture, Mr Malfoy?"
Blaise looked between the pair uneasily, the tension palpable. Draco stared at Snape's back, his gaze calculating. Suddenly a grin broke out on his face and he laughed.
"You're right. Come along Blaise, those traps won't set themselves." Blaise stared at him disbelievingly until he caught sight of Draco's eyes. A toss of Draco's head indicated he wanted out of the cramped classroom and Blaise readily agreed.
"Sure. But I'm not doing all the hard work. Setting traps is so tedious. Can't we just use you as bait, Draco?." The pair walked towards the door, keeping up the banter, carefully ignoring the still, silent potions master.
"Bait? A Malfoy as bait? Did you swallow some suspicious looking substance while we were in there because there is no way that…"
"Draco." The voice stilled him. Blaise looked at him questioningly and Draco signalled him to keep going.
"See you tomorrow, Professor." There was no reply and Blaise left the room, nodding to Draco that he would wait outside.
Snape slowly turned so that he was leaning on the desk and he waited patiently for Draco to slowly turn and meet his gaze. "What are you planning, Draco?"
Draco didn't need to fake surprise. "Planning? Nothing."
Snape looked at him, wearily. "Then what was your little performance at the table earlier about?"
Draco grinned and threw his arms in the air. "I'm a showman. I like an audience."
"And you usually have one," he looked at him searchingly, "You don't have some foolish plan brewing in that manipulative little mind of yours?"
"No."
"Why do I think you're lying, Draco?"
Draco's anger seeped into his voice. "You must just be a distrusting person. I'm not lying."
"You're not at Malfoy Manor, Draco. Please treat me with some respect."
Draco groaned in annoyance and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Professor but you accused me of lying when, for once in my life, I really am not."
"So, no plan?" he still sounded incredulous.
"No. Plan." Draco said slowly. "Though action needs to be taken. And many of us are willing to take it."
Snape held back the yell of protest that arose in him upon hearing Draco's words. "All in good time, Mr Malfoy."
Draco sighed at the familiar words. "I just want to do something."
He turned to go, pausing in the doorframe when Snape spoke in an oddly sad voice; "You're so like your father, Draco."
Draco regarded him over his shoulder, completely seriously. "Thank you."
*
The ground of Hogwarts were bitterly cold as Draco and Blaise trudged over the frozen ground.
"I'm cold," Draco observed blithely.
"Well, yes. That would be because you dragged us out here without any cloaks or heat inducing apparatus and you still haven't exactly told me why." Blaise pointed out, his breath appearing in little puffs of white steam.
"Right. Forgot that." Draco abruptly stopped and regarded the lake detachedly causing Blaise to meander on without him for a few moments and then jog back, cursing.
"Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Draco took a moment to imagine what Blaise's expression would be if he said Well, my father's in Azkaban and I'm actually sorta happy about that, I want to be a Death Eater but no-one will damn well let me, I have a crush on Ginny Weasley and my mother bought me this hideous jacket for my birthday that she's going to expect me to wear at Christmas.
Laughing slightly, Draco actually said; "Something's wrong with Professor Snape."
"I don't see how bad it could be, he's not stood out hearing freezing so badly that he might never have children or even engage in any sexual experiences ever again."
"Didn't you see him flinch when we asked for news?"
Blaise shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't see what it could mean."
Draco continued to look over the lake, not really seeing it. "Neither do I, but there's something." He turned decisively to Blaise and pinned him with steely grey eyes. "I'm going to write to my mother and ask her to discuss my position with the people who matter."
Blaise stilled. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"
"When they sorted you into Slytherin did they forget to mention the bit about ambition?"
"Obviously, you got my share," Blaise said dryly, "Look Draco I just don't know if now's the right time what with your father…"
His objection was cut off by a squeal of laughter, causing both boys to spin towards the source of the sound.
The sight that met them had Draco cursing silently. Ginny and Oafish Dean were giggling as they walked along, Dean occasionally tickling Ginny, causing the squeals in laughter.
Blaise regarded them coolly. "Isn't that Weasley's little sister and that guy in our year?"
"Yeah," Draco agreed grudgingly, "Oafish Dean."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Oafish Dean?"
"Erm," spluttered Draco, "I'm thinking that all the Gryfinndors need nicknames. You know, Plonker Potter, Whimpering Weasley and erm, Giggling Granger?"
"Giggling Granger? You'll have her sobbing in the hallways with that one, Draco."
"Shut up," retorted Draco, without venom, "Alliteration isn't my thing."
"Oafish Dean isn't alliteration."
Draco was saved from having to defend themselves by the pair drawing level with them. Dean's arm wrapped protectively around Ginny's shoulder as he glared at them. Ginny, meanwhile, just watched Draco with an expression he couldn't quite place in her eyes.
Blaise opened his mouth to say something cutting when Draco cut him off; "Come on, Blaise, let's head back."
Blaise stared at him in surprise, not noticing the same expression on Dean's face. Blaise shot them a venomous look and hurried after Draco who was already striding up the path, mindful of Ginny's curious gaze on his back.