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.

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.

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 7^th 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 6^th 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.