Disclaimer: No, I did not write the Harry Potter books and no, I did not produce/direct the films or write the scripts. Now that we have successfully pointed out that I am a failure in life, can we get on with the story?!?!
A/N: This is the first fic I've ever posted on Portkey, so I'm a bit nervous to put it up here, because all the writers here are so great (and I'm not.) So, please review and tell me what you think I can/should do to improve my writing! Thanks a bunch!
Also, this fic is the first of what is going to be a trilogy just incase anybody was wondering...okay, I think I'll shut up now!
The Finest Silk
Chapter One (of three)-The Plan
It's funny really that I, of all people, am hopelessly enthralled by a girl who would never meet the standards of being eligible to date a Malfoy, and at the same time, would never give me the time of day. She's both below, and superior to me at the same time. I feel both worthy and unworthy of her love. I suppose it doesn't matter either way though, it's not as if I'd ever receive it. Her name is permanently inscribed in my brain.
Ginny Weasley.
She's sitting there, eating breakfast, surrounded by the other students. She is like a beacon of light in the darkness. She just stands out. Her long, wine red hair shimmers as if she were being kissed by the sun. She's just sitting there, eating breakfast like everyone else but for some reason I am utterly drawn to her. It's frustrating, because nobody else seems to take notice of the light that seems to surrounds her . They don't notice the little things, like how while talking to other students, she manages to look friendly yet shy at the same time. Or how every morning for breakfast she has buttered toast, and that she always outlines the edges first, and then spreads it to the middle. I'm also betting that they don't notice how in the library, while she scribbles furiously on a scroll of parchment, she sits in such a precarious position on her chair that she looks about to fall off of it at any given moment. No one else seems to notice the fact that she's grown out of her clumsiness over the years, and walks around with an air of elegance and grace that even my mother would approve of.
My obsession with her started in my fifth year. Umbridge was ruling the school, and yes I was one of her lapdogs, but let's not discuss that right now. Anyway, her blatant desire to worship the ground Potter walked on had been completely extinguished. She was no longer interested in chasing after the Golden Trio, and slowly made a few of her own friends. She hasn't had many boyfriends this year. In fact, the only person I can recall her dating with was that pansy, Colin Creevy. I'm not joking about him being a pansy, a few months after they broke up, I found him snogging Justin Finch-Fletchey in one of Filch's closets.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my ribs and I turn around to see Blaise Zabini smirking at me. I glare back but he continues to smirk. I think he caught me staring at her. I mustn't let him think I was staring so I attempt to distract him.
"Stop looking at me like that, Zabini, I am certainly not going to snog you. I heard Millicent Bulstrode is willing, though, if you're interested." He smirks again and I seriously want to hex him.
"Nice try, Malfoy, but you can't make me forget what I just saw." I roll my eyes.
"Okay, out with it. What is it that you think you saw?" I ask in a disdainful tone. He smirks for what seems to be the hundredth time and my hand goes to my wand but I restrain myself from using it.
"You, mate, were staring at that damn Weasely girl for the past ten minutes!" I can feel my face flush from anger and embarrassment.
"I was bloody not! Why would I be staring at a Gryffindor, let alone a Weasely?" I demand but Zabini shrugs.
"That's just what I was about to ask you, mate." I growl at him, finish my breakfast and head to my first class.
***
My first class, is advanced potions with the Gryffindors. That really makes my day, let me tell you. We're in our seventh year now, so potions is optional, which means there aren't as many Gryffindors. Granger is there of course, along with Potter, who struggles just to get an' Acceptable' on every assignment. She on the other hand, accomplishes everything with ease and is still determined on impressing on everyone else the fact that she is the class know-it-all. Weasley, however, is not in advanced potions. Not that I can really blame him. If I was a Gryffindor, I would get away from Snape at the first opportunity I got. There are also less Slytherins. Needless to say, Crabbe and Goyle certainly aren't in the class.
Snape storms into the classroom begins to insult the Gryffindors, which is always a good source of entertainment for us Slytherins. He then instructs us to make a complicated potion, one that even Granger hasn't read about. If it isn't finished by the end of class we fail for the term. Just great.
I finish my potion with ten minutes left in the class and feel extremely pleased with myself. I pour some into a vial and place it proudly upon Snape's desk. He gives me a pleased smile, and then casts a condescending glance at Potter, who's potion was smoking and fizzing.
The ten minutes fly by quickly, Potter just manages to pass in his vial. I can already tell he's going to get a 'poor' on it. I walk outside of the classroom, and see the sixth years heading towards us, getting ready to enter the classroom, when I see Ginny. She's walking alone, at a slightly hurried pace. Her long, sleek, red hair is tucked casually behind her ears, and her cheeks are slightly flushed. She has a slight smile on her face, as if she knows some alluring secret that she's not keen on letting on to anyone else, anytime soon. Her secondhand robes, are slightly wrinkled and are fraying at the edges. I clench my fists in anger. A goddess like her deserves to be dressed in the finest silk, not the cheap second hand robes that her dirt poor family can barely afford to provide for her. How does she take it? She must know that she is worth millions more than the whole lot of those Weasley's, yet there she is, just as poor as the rest of them. She catches my gaze and her cheeks flush slightly, as she hurries into the potions room.. It's amazing to compare the difference between the way she and her brother blush. Ron, on one hand, usually blushes an atrocious shade of red that is usually caused by my insults. Her blush, is quite attractive and endearing. I shake my head to rid myself temporarily of these thoughts, because I realize that I am already five minutes late to Transifugration.
***
I've successfully managed to get through all of my morning classes without too having too many thoughts of Ginny Weasley, and am now currently sitting in the Great Hall, eating lunch. She's there too, of course, daintily eating some a sandwich while chattering on with friends. Further along the table, I see Potter and Granger secretly holding hands under the table while an oblivious Weasley hordes his mouth with such plentiful quantities of food, that one would think he was a squirrel saving all of his acorns for a late night snack. My eyes avert themselves back to Ginny, but before I can lose myself in my longing for her, Zabini hits me on the back and I nearly smash my face into my goblet of pumpkin juice. I turn around and give him a glare, which he shrugs off and gives me a satisfied smirk.
"You were doing it again." He said, sounding quite triumphant. I don't bother to ask what he's talking about. I know that he saw me staring at her, and there's really no use of denying it. I simply shrug at him, and return to eating my lunch. Out of the corner of my eye, I am pleased to notice that he looks quite put out at the fact that he did not get a rise out of me. Bloody wanker obviously has nothing better to do than to try to make others uncomfortable. I smirk at him and then turn my attention to the teacher's table, Dumbledore had stood and asked for silence.
"Due to the exceptional behavior from all of the Houses, the teachers and I have decided to hold a ball for the fifth through seventh year students. It has no particular theme, but formal wear is required. It will take place in two weeks, and a Hogsmeade trip has been set for this Wednesday and Friday so students can purchase the appropriate attire. I hope to see everyone there." And with that, he sat down while the Great Hall became filled with the sounds of joy from the older students, and outrage from the younger ones. I look over at her, and I am surprised to find out that even though she is smiling, she has a sad glint in her eyes. I suddenly realized what was wrong, and am determined to fix it. I skive off the rest of my classes and go to my dorm, to devise a plan.
A/N: Well, what do you think? I know this chapter was really short, and probably pretty boring, but I didn't want it to seem too rushed! This is my first D/G fic and I'm anxious to see what you think!