Title: Of All The Strange Ideas
Author: Faith
Summary: Maybe it was another crusade of 'improving house relations,' or maybe it was because the
school needed more money, or maybe it was an advanced form of brutal torture, and Draco was positive the third was
true, at least to himself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Draco, Ginny, Blaise, Tracey, Ron, Harry, or Pansy. They belong to JKR. But I think the
scared ickle Ravenclaw is mine.
Dedication: To all you Muffin Shippers!
---
Of all the strange ideas Dumbledore had graced Hogwarts' students with, Draco Malfoy was sure this was the most outlandish.
The man was missing a few important screws, Draco had no doubt. He sat up there at the High Table every meal with overly twinkling eyes and a knowing smile, as if he knew something you didn't, or perhaps... Subconsciously, Draco could only nod to himself. Perhaps there was another reason the High Table was called the High Table, if anyone were to catch that drift.
The point was- Dumbledore had finally cracked, and all the Houses were reaping such wonderful benefits from it.
Maybe it was another crusade of 'improving house relations,' or maybe it was because the school needed more money, or maybe it was an advanced form of brutal torture, and Draco was positive the third was true, at least to himself.
"Oh! Wow, can I have that kind?" an annoying voice cut his pondering short.
"Three sickles." Draco responded dryly.
"You could be more friendly, Draco." Ginny Weasley glared in his direction, collecting the silver coins.
"That would require being marginally happy, Gin."
"You are such an old man." She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust and poked his side, which was quite rude, considering his kidney was resident there.
"Ow! You little weasel!" Draco rubbed the tender spot, glaring at his red-headed spitfire.
"Ferret." She shot back with absence.
Two little pink dots formed on pale cheeks. "Pouncey Gryff."
"Prat."
"Maggot."
"Pansy."
"Isn't that your brother?"
"No, I mean Pansy's here."
Pansy Parkinson unceremoniously dropped the money onto the table. "I want plain." Ginny reached over to hand it to her, and the pug-nosed girl snatched it away and left without another word.
"And my brother is not a pansy."
"Is so. He spends too much time with The Famous Scarhead not to be."
"Oh, shut it."
"What if I don't want to?"
"I'll poke your kidney again."
"People can die that way, if your three brain cells haven't noticed."
"Oh, darn. You've figured me out. Now I'll have to think of another way to do you in."
"Shut it."
"What if I don't want to?"
A bang on the table diverted the quarrelers, and Blaise Zabini greeted them with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk. "I would like blueberry, and Tracey would like chocolate, if you don't mind."
"Please," Tracey added, with a small smile.
Draco all but threw Blaise's request at him.
"Draco!" Ginny scolded. "He's sorry, Blaise."
"Yes. Terribly." A long nail pressed deeply into his side, yet again. "Ow!"
Blaise left, clutching the knot of laughter in his stomach, choking out something about bickering married couples to Tracey.
"Must you do that?"
"Yes."
"Ow!" Ginny winced, her hand over her side.
"Isn't so fun now, is it?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes into slits.
"Can I please-"
Draco snapped his head around to the intruding Ravenclaw. "Who asked you here?"
"Stop it! He's sorry. What would you like?"
"Um, banana n-nut." He replied shakily, handling the sickles over the counter. After his steps retreated, Draco's surly mood found itself increased.
"Dumbledore has lost truly his marbles this time." Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, studying the shine of his shoes.
"It's just a bake sale, Draco."
"I hate bake sales."
Ginny sighed, counting the current change. "You hate everything."
Grey eyes drifted over the back of red hair, and fingers reached out to twirl into the locks. "Well, I don't hate you nearly as much as I should, you know."
A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, and her cinnamon eyes danced mischievously. "I suppose that's meant to make me feel special."
"No," Draco replied, reaching into his pocket and dropping three clanking coins into the large pile, "this was."
The scent of a warm double chocolate chip muffin drifted up to tantalize Ginny's senses, and she let her fingers linger over his as she took it.
"Did it work?" Draco asked, watching as she chewed slowly on a bite.
"Very much," she answered, and when she kissed him a moment later, he tasted chocolate.
Of all the strange ideas Dumbledore had graced Hogwarts' students with, Draco Malfoy was sure this was the most outlandish.
But perhaps muffin bake sales weren't such a bad idea, after all.