The True Story of Harry Potter

Ginny yanked her hand from Draco’s grasp as if his touch had burned her. Her eyebrows knitted together; she gave an indignant sound and stomped off to the castle. Draco breathed a small laugh at how fiery she was. His long legs had no problem catching up to her before she made it to the entrance. Once they approached the massive oak doors, she coolly told him to keep an eye on her at dinner. To his annoyance, she instructed him to follow her when she left the Great Hall to meet in the Invisibility Section of the library.

The Great Hall was filled with voices and laughter. Nearly everyone was already eating; the long tables were besieged with meats, dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, pies and flagons of pumpkin juice.  Draco found his customary spot among the Slytherins, while Ginny continued to walk the greater distance to the Gryffindor table. He piled food onto his plate, paying little attention to the actual meal. He kept his eyes on Ginny the entire time, just as she said to do. With every fork-full of food, his eyes never wavered from her vivid, red head.

Ginny made eye contact occasionally, but then her eyes would dart away. Pink tinged her freckled cheeks; apparently she was blushing, the cause unbeknownst to him. Perhaps it was the conversation around her causing such a reaction. After several eye-connections and breakaways, she looked him dead on, almost challengingly. Now what is she playing at?  Her eyes widened, and she stared without blinking. She was going to try and stare him down. Right. Game on. He matched her stare and added a smirk for good measure. Take that.

She quirked an eyebrow with a look which upped the ante; her lips parted as her little, pink tongue stretched out with such force and velocity there was no misunderstanding its meaning. He became somewhat flustered at her unexpected behavior. She had stuck her tongue out at him!  She retracted the offending body part, gave a smirk of her own, knowing the effect she had had, and promptly exited the Great Hall.

Draco suavely rose from his seat while musing over the feisty nature of the little Weasley vixen. He remembered all too well the first time he had met her and she showed her vivacity. They had been at Flourish and Blotts when Potter had once again demanded all the attention, even that of the pretty little Weasley. Draco remembered feeling quite impressed at her boldness, so it was no surprise she was a Gryffindor.

Leaving the Great Hall alone was no longer a problem. Draco had made it abundantly clear to all his housemates that if he desired company, he would let them know. No one dared to question him, the Prince of Slytherin. As he climbed the four flights of stairs leading to the library, he thought back to those first days at Hogwarts. Being Sorted into Slytherin wasn’t even a question in his mind; his entire family had been Slytherins, so he would be, too. The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head when he assertively told it he would be in Slytherin. The hat shouted Slytherin immediately, and Draco knew his father and mother would be pleased.

When Draco had climbed the final stretch of stairs, he turned toward the library. He pushed through the double doors that lead to the book entombed room.  Quickly surveying the place, he found it empty with no evidence of Madam Pince.  He walked through the aisles of books until he came upon the Invisibility Section. In the far back alcove sat two high-back chairs, one currently occupied. Ginny was holding his wand in an outstretched hand; it dangled between her forefinger and thumb like a carrot in front of a horse, beckoning him to come get it.

He sauntered over to where she waited and sneered at her. He wouldn’t rise to the bait, so instead he sat down with a bored look on his face and began to inspect his most recent manicure.

“That was quite rude, you know,” Ginny began.

“What, sticking your tongue out?” he replied dryly.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, your unnerving stare. I could hardly eat while you pinned your eyes on me the entire time. For being ‘well-bred,’ that was rather ill-mannered, don’t you realize?”

“You’re going to lecture me on manners?” he scoffed as he stretched his long legs, crossing one over the other at the ankles. “You’re the one who stole my wand.”

“I didn’t steal it!” she quietly cried in indignation. “I merely removed it from you for self-defense. You’ll get it back. Besides, from what I hear, you’re the one who steals things; Neville Longbottom’s Remembrall ring any bells?” 

Draco glared at her. Is that what the Gryffindors say?  How preposterous. He had enough money to buy a million of those stupid, little toys.

“Who, pray tell, has been spreading that vicious lie?” he spat.

“Er…well, its common knowledge in Gryffindor. After all, it happened in front of all the Gryffindor first years, right?”

“Longbottom had got the ridiculous thing in the morning post. As I passed by the Gryffindor table, I stopped to look at it. He immediately called to a teacher, prattling about how I had taken the pathetic gift from him. Absurd!”  He added under his breath, “Longbottom obviously never learned to share.”

Ginny eyed Draco with a mixture of amusement and confusion. “I’m talking about the first flying lesson all of you had. Everyone credits you with stealing the Remembrall and throwing it so far that Harry had to dive for it. The legend of how Gryffindor got our best Seeker since my brother, Charlie.”

Now that was the limit!  Draco was outraged at the distorted details of the past, which made him out to be something he wasn’t…well, not back then, anyway. It was astonishing how much the truth could be twisted and how willing the little lemmings of Gryffindor were to believe Potter’s sordid tale.

“For your information, Weasley, that is not how it happened. Longbottom fell off his broom, and it was a sight to see. His face was indescribable as he ascended without any control.”  He gave a little chuckle.

Ginny looked at him in disgust.

“Really, Weasley, you can’t tell me you’ve never laughed at someone else’s expense. It was unintentional, I assure you, but his face was hilarious. Regardless, once he left for the hospital wing, I found his Remembrall. Again, I merely wanted a good look at the thing, but Potter wouldn’t hear of it. I took off on my broom, thinking he couldn’t do anything about it and then I’d have my turn at the stupid toy.”

Ginny settled back in her chair and brought up her legs to tuck them underneath her. She placed Draco’s wand on the high-back’s arm and leaned to the opposite side, placing her hands and her own wand in her lap.

Draco continued, still agitated, “Of course, Potter had to mount a broom and harass me over the Remembrall. I had got my fill of the plaything, so I told him to catch it. It just so happened at the same moment I went to toss the toy to Potter, my allergies started acting up, and I sneezed. That involuntary action caused the Remembrall to launch out of my hand and high into the air.”

“That’s rather convenient, don’t you think?” Ginny interrupted skeptically.

“No, actually, I don’t find it convenient at all. I have a reaction to mallowsweet when it goes to seed in the fall. It leaves me with terrible sneezing attacks and horrible headaches. I have been developing a curative potion but it isn’t perfected, yet. There are potions I can take to reduce the reactions, but having allergies is certainly not convenient,” he drawled.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize….” Ginny trailed off, apparently afraid to put her other foot in her mouth.

“Yes, I suppose you didn’t. No matter. Now you understand; thanks to me, Potter was made the youngest Seeker in a century. I was never shown any gratitude for that, but now I see why: the truth was replaced with a cunning legend to put him on a higher hero pedestal. To think I actually felt bad for him when he had no place to go that Christmas,” Draco grated out.

In need of something to sooth his ego, Draco fished out a small, gold bag from his robes. There was a black, inverted triangle covering most of the bag’s front with an elegant white script, which read Hawaiian Vintage Chocolate. As he gently opened the bag, an aroma of coffee and chocolate filled the air. He put one, long finger in the bag and hooked out a small, round sweet, which he aristocratically delivered to his mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned back as the chocolate melted creamily on his tongue and the flavor was absorbed by each taste bud. Comfort in the world’s best chocolate was just what the medi-witch ordered.

When he opened his eyes, Ginny had sat up in her chair and was regarding Draco with curious eyes.

“Chocolate, Weasley, most likely the best in the world. It ought to be, at one Galleon for three-quarters of a pound.“

Ginny gasped at the outrageous cost. “The whole lot on the Hogwarts Express food cart doesn’t even cost that much!”

“No, I don’t suppose it does. As you see, I have no need to steal anything.”  Draco emphasized the point by giving the small bag a little shake and eating another sweet.

“Evidently not. I imagine that’s why you resorted to trickery, false duels and fist fights with my brother,” she snapped as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

Draco sat up with her accusation and stared at her in disbelief. “Trickery and false duels,” he parroted. “If you are referring to the duel I challenged Potter to in our first year, it was an attempt to get him alone and sort out all these misunderstandings. If it hadn’t been for Filch and his blasted cat, I would have made it to the trophy room.  As it was, I barely escaped detention.”

Draco took out another chocolate, wishing it were something more potent.

Ginny’s attention was on the bag then diverted to the candy as Draco placed it in his mouth. “I thought you did get detention with Harry, Hermione and Neville.”  Licking her lips, she asked, “Are you going to eat that entire bag?”

“That detention was another matter entirely,” he said. “The bag is awfully small, so yes, I probably will. Why, did you want some?” he tantalized, holding the bag just outside her reach.

“Well, if you’re offering.”  She launched forward and grabbed the sack from his hand. “Yes, I think I will, thank you,” she answered, pulling out one of the small, round delicacies, popping the chocolate in her mouth. “That detention was the time you screamed like a banshee and ran from the Forbidden Forest, leaving Harry to fight You-Know-Who alone, was it not?”

“What!?” Draco spat out in outrage, a little too loudly as it drew the attention of the now present Madam Pince.

The librarian lunged out from the aisles of books and bellowed, “NO CHOCOLATE IN THE LIBRARY!  Out – OUT!”  Her face twisted with fury.  She wrenched out her wand, flicking her wrist; books flew off the shelves, threatening to thump the teens over their heads.

“Damn! Not again!” Ginny muttered as she quickly darted for the library exit, chocolate in hand. Draco grabbed his wand from the arm of the chair while several books nearly whacked his blond coiffure before he hastily made his escape.

Once outside the library, they each leaned against the cool, stone wall in the corridor, using it for support. Ginny panted then held out the small, gold bag. “Here’s your chocolate,” she giggled.

Draco sniggered and flippantly replied, “Keep it. I have plenty more.”

Ginny nodded as she noticed his wand in his hand. “Er, thanks. I have to get back. You’ve got your wand, right?  I guess we’re done, then.”  She pushed off the wall and began to walk away, only to be stopped by a firm grasp of long, perfectly manicured fingers around her wrist. Her eyes traveled down to where his hand seized her arm and then up to his eyes in question.

“We’re not done yet. We need to finish this, but not tonight. Meet me here tomorrow,” he demanded, releasing his grip from the surprisingly electric contact.

She swallowed hard and then drew her shoulders back in defiance. “No need to take that tone with me. I don’t take orders, Malfoy. If there’s anything more you’d like to discuss, then you need to ask nicely if you want the pleasure of my company.” 

She couldn’t be serious. She’s a Weasley, for Circe’s sake. Did she think he would lower himself to asking her for anything? She should be begging for the pleasure of his company

“Weasley, for that bag of chocolates, the least you can do is hear me out. I assure you, my account of detention in the Forbidden Forest is worth your time. You were the one who said she wanted the truth. Or would you rather go around deluded like the rest of the Potter worshipers?” he said in a voice smooth as silk.

“I suppose that’ll have to do for asking nicely,” she said, more to herself. “Fine, I’ll meet you, but not here. Meet me on the seventh floor by the enormous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls. Do you know the one?”

Draco grimaced in disgust. “Yes, I know it; it’s completely moth-eaten. There’s no place to meet there.”

“There is a room, but only if you know how to get into it. Meet me after dinner again; only don’t stare at me through the whole meal. It’s really disturbing.” She wrinkled her nose as she waved a hand airily at him. “See you then.”

Draco nodded and watched her walk away, noticing the enticing sway of her hips. He shook his head, trying to clear it of what thoughts might come next. What was he doing? He knew he was playing with fire, but would he be warmed by the light or burned by the flames?