Theories on How Danger Finds Us

A/N- Here's a new fic that I've been working on recently. It's all in Ginny's POV, and I'm really enjoying writing it. Hope you enjoy reading it! As always, thank you to my wonderful beta, Ginnygie, who got this back to me in record time!



Theories on How Danger Finds Us


I don’t really know why, but I seem to have this annoying penchant for getting myself into trouble.

Case in point, my very first year at Hogwarts. You know, that whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco – I came to school all bright-eyed and bushy tailed only to find my little eleven year-old self possessed by a very attractive, megalomaniacal sixteen year-old hell-bent on eradicating the world of a boy who just refused to lay down and die. Needless to say, I’m pretty sure you know how the rest of that story goes; the greater part of Wizarding England does.

I’ve had heaps of other troubles, though, most of them entailing Harry Potter and his skills, but you’d think that at this point in my life, I would have gotten used to it. No, no; not so much.

I guess I should warn you right now that this story, like many of my stories, involves me getting myself into a right jam.

It features a large cast of characters, many of whom you are familiar with. There are some, though, that are making their appearance for the first time. In my life, that is.

This story also features romance, adventure (sort of), and some instances of death. The last bit is the unfortunate reminder that, as is the case in life, every being on this planet must meet its end. In this case, though, the ends do not justify the means.

I should also warn you that I am a huge fan of being purposefully elaborate and vague when it comes to describing things. I don’t know; the ambiance formed by depicting things in such a manner has always appealed to me. I became hooked on the style the first time I read E.M. Forester’s A Passage to India – I had no idea what the hell was going on half of the time and decided I liked it that way. Don’t get me wrong, though, it’s one of my favourite books; the imagery used throughout is absolutely orgasmic. In the best way possible.

But enough about that, you didn’t decide to read about my love of vague imagery, you came here (metaphorically speaking) to hear about my first year out of Hogwarts.

And like I said earlier, I do have this knack for getting my pasty, freckled arse into trouble. The twins call it a gift; I call it a damn nuisance.

My tale begins like many of life’s tales and great works of fiction: at a home, my home, lovingly called The Burrow.

I stood on the vast front deck, contemplating the days ahead of me, contrary to the massive amounts of fleeting thoughts, or lack thereof, I normally have when I stare out at my mum’s garden. It was a big day for me, after all; right up there with getting my wand, first broom, going to, and graduating from Hogwarts – I was going to school, again. This time around, though, I was going to a wizarding university in Glasgow, majoring in English Literature.

I know; I know. What in the name of all that is good and holy in this world is a witch doing at a university? You’d be surprised, though, a good bit of wizarding kind has decided that they wanted to branch out into fields other than professional Quidditch or working for the illustrious Ministry. Gone are the days where almost every wizarding family followed the credo of “a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.” (Pride and Prejudice, Austen, pg. 1) I think the only person who still wishes that unofficial motto was in place is Narcissa Malfoy; Merlin knows the amount of times that woman’s tried to marry off poor Draco. But back to me contemplating my future.

My mum walked out to stand beside me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me into an awkward side-hug. For my leaving for another four years of higher education, she was handling the whole situation rather well.

She leaned up to give me a kiss on my temple, pulling me back into the house to grab my trunks.

Safely stowed away in two incredibly large trunks was every gram of whatever I considered relatively important in my life up to that point; my clothing, books, my broomstick (a brand-spanking new Firebolt, thank you very much), and anything else that I could shrink down and cram in. Mum had to come in my room at one point to prevent me from just packing my entire room.

I don’t know what it is, but my room at The Burrow has always been a safe-haven for me. It means comfort, security, a routine. But then again, I’m sure a majority of people feel that way about their rooms. So in an effort to keep this feeling of security even at college, I tried to pack my entire room. I began laughing when Mum told me to stop because I had tried to do the same thing when I first went to Hogwarts. It was okay when I was eleven; cute, even. But at eighteen, well, it’s slightly more than disconcerting.

I tried not to cry that day, I really did, but this time I was completely on my own – no Mum and Dad to bail me out of the stunts I had pulled, no Dumbledore to look at me with that twinkle in his eye and tell me that I was forgiven, even when I royally fucked up. The only thing Mum and Dad took care of was my books. I would be the one paying for my housing and any other superfluous expenses.

After five minutes, I was able to compose myself; my tears being reduced to nothing more but the occasional hiccup.

Mum took her hand in mine, squeezing it in support and reassurance that I would do just fine on my own. She glanced at the non-magical clock in the living room, handing me the Portkey that would take me to the front of the school grounds.

This was the one thing about the school that I wished was more like Hogwarts; the train ride. The train ride up was a fantastic time to do just about anything one pleased – catch up with friends, make new friends, or just revel in the quiet in a rare empty compartment. But, alas, the university I was to be attending found the train ride to be inefficient and a trifle bit elementary (which it is, but it’s the experience that counts).

The clock struck twelve and Mum squeezed my hand once more, letting go to wave good-bye as I was pulled by my navel; my trunks shrunken down and stowed safely in my coat pockets.

That was the last time I saw my mum that year.

Of course I wouldn’t know that at the time, but if I had, I might have stayed at home and, well, I wouldn’t have my story, now would I?

I landed on the ground outside of the wrought-iron gates of the university campus rather gracelessly; for all the experience that I’ve had with Portkeys, I’ve never been able to get the knack of landing.

I stood up, brushing any dirt off of me, before pressing my hands against my coat, making sure that none of my trunks fell out in the landing. Safe with the knowledge that my luggage was intact, I approached those imposing, gigantic gates, sucking in a breath at the expanse of land before me. The brochure that the university sent me was pretty modest, I must say; they mentioned practically nothing about how large the campus was. There were pictures of course, but there was not one sentence regarding the grandiose beauty that was The Artemisia Lufkin School for Higher Wizarding Education. But anyone who goes there refuses to suffer through the ridiculousness of saying the name, so for future reference, the school shall now be referred to as the Lufkin School.

Now, I may have said that the Lufkin School was modest when it came to describing their place of higher wizarding education, but it had to be one of the most ostentatious campuses I’ve ever seen. But come on, though, the place was named after the first female Minister of Magic and, in her defense, if I were the first female Minister for Magic and decided to build a school, I would make my school as pretentious and brazen as possible. Yet, in all its pomposity, the place really is quite beautiful.

The administrative building’s front is composed of traditional Doric columns, weathered slightly by age, “with exactly 78 steps leading up to its front. Much like this main building, the rest of the academic buildings are heavily influenced by early Roman and Greek architecture, as it was the school’s founder and most generous patron’s favourite form of architecture.” (The Artemisia Lufkin School for Higher Wizarding Education, a Guide, Goshawk, pg. 53)

The dorms are more Victorian in structure as the Dean near the turn of the 20th century felt the need to give the living quarters an upgrade. Each dorm has its own Victorian colour scheme, ranging from blues to shades of red. Like many wizarding universities nowadays, the dorms are co-ed, although with the amount of shagging that goes on in those rooms, they might want to keep separate dorms like Hogwarts does.

The grounds are spacious, consisting of a small lake, a Quidditch pitch, and various greenhouses, amongst other things. All in all, the layout of the grounds and what they consist of are very similar to that of Hogwarts’.

Truthfully, I’m rather against making all of these comparisons to my former school; I want the Lufkin School to stand out on its own, but after spending seven years of my life at Hogwarts, it’s kind of hard to not compare everything else to it.

After the shock of seeing my new school in the flesh for the first time, I made my way toward the administrative building to check in and get the password to my dormitory.

It is at this point that I must make mention of how truly frightened I was as I approached the building. It was then that it hit me as to how self-sufficient I had to become – I had to make sure that any expenses I had were to be paid on time; going late to a class was pretty much a big, fat no; I had to be wary of the occasional awful roommate that might do crazy shit in the middle of the night; I had to get a job. Oh, Merlin, I had to get a job. It’s not that I haven’t worked anywhere before, but well, I hadn’t a clue as to where I should start, or what type of job I should look for. While it’s great that I’m majoring in English, what does that mean in terms of a job, both during my years at school and afterward?

I stopped for a moment as I trekked up the stairs, trying to figure out the answer to the previously posed question. I must admit that I wasn’t particularly imaginative at that exact moment. I think the only answer I came up with was to be a teacher.

I scrunched up my face in disgust; while I credit the teachers that I’ve had for helping me out a hell of a lot more than was probably legal, or appropriate, I’ve never really fancied being one. Just thinking about having to teach someone like me or the twins day after day put a damper on those plans.

As I continued up toward the entrance of the building, I began to notice the people around me. Imagine to my surprise seeing people like Pansy Parkinson or, to my displeasure, Michael Corner trotting up the steps ahead of me, the former making the ascent in ridiculously high Christian Louboutin stiletto boots with a metallic gold Burberry trench coat to block out the oncoming September chill.

Shaking my head, I climbed the last few steps and walked through the imposing oak double doors, walking in the direction of the “New Students” area. Apparently, the Dean of the school liked to give a welcoming presentation to all of the incoming students each year in one of the lecture halls. Upon reaching said lecture hall, I realized that I had probably dawdled what was considered more than appropriate just staring at the school and rushed inside, taking a seat near the back, cast in shadow.

The Dean was a plump sort of woman. Of about an average height, she was in her early forties with a voice that boomed out across the hall sans the use of a Sonorous charm. She was wearing a knee-length brown skirt that flared at the edges with an olive green long-sleeved wrap shirt, effectively covering whatever tummy she had. Her hair was a sort of reddish-brown, a colour only achieved through years of hair dye, while her skin was that of a clear, peachy complexion. She wasn’t exactly horrid-looking, and she wasn’t the most gorgeous of women, but for a woman of her age and body type, she had aged well.

Immediately upon sitting down in my padded chair, I tilted my head back, attempting to drone out any and all forms of communication going on around me. Unfortunately, though, the guy next to me didn’t have the same plans in mind.

“Hi, I’m Gareth Van der Eems. What’s yours?” the sandy blond next to me asked, flashing me a smile.

“Pardon?” I asked, irked at this sudden intrusion.

He gave a little laugh, turning in his seat to face me. “The Dean just asked us to introduce ourselves to the people sitting near us as a way jump-start us making new friends. I guess you weren’t paying attention.”

“No, not really,” I replied with a smile of my own. “I’m Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley.” I stuck my hand out for him to shake, relieved when he provided a hand of his own.

“Where are you from, Ginny?”

“Ottery - St. Catchpole. I went to Hogwarts for my initial education. You?”

“Vienna, Austria. But I kind of lost my thick accent when I went to Durmstrang. I have this tendency to pick up accents rather quickly, so my accent’s been rather neutral these past few years. But moving to Scotland has given my voice the slightest of brogues.” He was right, you know. When he spoke to me, he stressed different syllables, similar to my manner of speaking. If he still had an Austrian accent, well, you can figure it out.

“So what are you majoring in, Gareth?”

“Economics, with a minor in Wizarding Governments.”

“What is it that you want to do after school?”

“I plan on working for Gringotts in Austria as an economist. Many members of the wizarding community don’t realize that not all of the nations are on par economically. The British Isles are better off than most because of the amount of pureblooded families living here. Austria and the Baltic nations are still developing nations in the wizarding world. We’ve always had wizarding families, but we’ve never had the economic prowess that England or Japan does.”

“My brother, Bill, works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker. Did you get a job offer already?”

“No, but I hope I can work for them.”

“If you want, I can talk to my brother later on in the year. And depending on your grades, maybe they’ll keep tabs on you.” I don’t know why I said what I just said. I mean, I had just met the guy, but maybe I just felt this need to help him out. Even now I can’t explain it. I call it charisma.

“Really? Are you serious? But I just met you.” See! Even Gareth didn’t understand my sudden mental lapse.

“Sure, why not? You seem like a nice guy, you know what you’re talking about, and I’m feeling rather generous right now,” I responded with a wry smile.

“Thanks, Ginny! Oh, wow. If your brother can get me a job with them, wow. That would be amazing.”

I laughed at Gareth’s enthusiasm; charisma’s contagious apparently.

“But enough about me,” Gareth began once he calmed down. “What are you here for?”

“English. I’m a bit of a literary freak. Literature is one of my great loves. But I also enjoy writing. Expression is such a wonderful thing.” I guess I had given a little romantic sigh for Gareth began laughing.

“What?” I asked, slightly irritated. Remember, I didn’t realize that I had sighed.

“Nothing. You just gave this little sigh after you finished talking. It was cute.”

Ah. Realization came upon me.

And he said I was cute, too. Technically, though, he said my sigh was cute, which through the Transitive Property, means that he was saying that I was cute.

But more about that later.

“Do you know what House you’re in?” I asked once my Blush of Realization had faded sufficiently enough.

“My room’s in the Poseidon dormitories.” Oh, quick trip to the land of back story – Artemisia Lufkin loved anything remotely related to Ancient Rome and/or Greece, as stated previously. So, all of the dorms are either named after a Greek god or goddess, or a Roman god or goddess. There. We may continue. “Apparently, Poseidon’s near the School of Business, where most of my classes are supposed to be. Do you know where you’ll be staying?”

“I’m in Juno.”

“Juno? Which one was that?”

“Juno was her Roman name, but her Greek name was Hera, Zeus’s wife. And as is the case with your dorm, a lot of the classes I’ll be taking are near my dorm.”

“Maybe we’ll --” But, of course, a bell rang signaling the end of the Welcome Lecture, cutting off Gareth’s last phrase. We both stood up to leave the hall, attempting to continue our conversation, but ended up losing each other in the maddening crowd like two wartime lovers; each being pulled away, arm slightly extended, reaching out for an invisible hand.

In my case, though, my hand was grabbed by someone I really wished hadn’t, for, from that point on, whether I liked it or not, they would forever be a part of my life.

“Why, Weasley, I didn’t know you were attending the Lufkin School.”

I turned to where I had heard the voice, my eyes trailing up his arm, making eye contact with a less-than-savory character. Yes, I am referring to Draco Malfoy.

Are you surprised that out of all of the people I had to encounter, that it would be him? No, probably not. If you are, then I commend you because I sure as hell was.

“Are you a first year student?” came my not-so-witty rejoinder. Now, in retrospect, I can think of a dozen responses to that simple statement of his; many of them snarky and insulting. In my opinion, making a biting comeback off the top of one’s head is pretty damn impressive. No, seriously; that takes some skill, and probably years of verbal abuse.

“Yes, well, being on the run the entirety of one’s last year of Hogwarts does put a bit of a damper on when one graduates,” he replied with a charming, sarcastic smile. Damn him and his witty repartee.

“Right. About that. Well, it was kind of nice seeing you. Maybe I’ll see you around campus,” I nearly stuttered out, trying to break away from him, noticing right then and there that he still had his hand latched onto mine – a situation that screamed awkward moment.

I tore my hand free, making a beeline in the opposite direction, afraid to turn back in case he just stood there looking after me with a pensive, almost wistful stare. I did not need to be more uncomfortable in that moment than I already was, thank you very much.

And, I’m sure you guessed it, but I did turn back; curiosity getting the better of me.

What I saw will forever be ingrained into my memory as one of the most unassumingly beautiful moments some of us are only so fortunate to witness in our rather insignificant lives. There he stood, hands in his coat pockets, just staring after me with his mercurial eyes, completely oblivious to the herd of students around him pushing and pulling their way out of the lecture hall. It was a moment out a movie, but happening before my eyes, and I couldn’t help but stop and stare right back; in total awe of the simplistic beauty that was Draco Malfoy in that moment.

If it were any other guy, I might have gone back and struck up a conversation filled with flirting and just the slightest hint of sarcasm, but because it was Malfoy, I refrained. The urge to hold up a petty family feud was too strong for my feeble mind.

After a good thirty seconds of unabashed gawking, I made my way toward the front desk, getting the password for my room, as well as my class schedule. I glanced at it, and really, it wasn’t that tragic: one English Composition class, an English Literature class, European Magical History, and Advanced Arithmancy. I could handle that. Out of all of them, though, the English classes excited me the most. What novels would my professors have me read? What types of essays would I have to write? How would I do?

We’ll learn about the answers to those questions later on. For now, though, let’s focus on me going to my dorm for the first time.

Weaving my way through a copse of trees and various other flora, I had found the Juno dormitories. The outside was nice enough – a five-story Victorian-style building, composed of shades of blues and grays, with a sizeable deck out in front. It looked welcoming, almost quaint. Suddenly living there began to seem less and less formidable.

I found my room on the second floor, number 204, near the end of the hallway. Inside I found a rather spacious room, contrary to small, cramped space I was expecting. Magically enlarged rooms are a beautiful thing. There was a sizeable kitchen near the very front, enough for three people to stand in, before it led into a sitting area, replete with furniture – a sofa, love seat, coffee table, standing lamp, and a small fireplace. A fire was already burning away in said fireplace, casting a soft glow on the entire area. To either side of the sitting area were rooms, for I was to have a roommate, you see. Both doors were open, so I assumed that my roommate had yet to find our room. I walked into the room on the left, noticing that the door had my name written on it in a large flowing script.

The room was of a good size; again, bigger than I had originally thought. There were two doors on the right side, one leading to a closet, the other leading to my bathroom. After checking everything out, I pulled my trunks out of my pockets, enlarging them to being the mind-numbing process that is unpacking.

About an hour later, I had gotten through one trunk and had made headway in the other when I heard the door slam shut from the front of the apartment, I guess you could call where I was staying.

I poked my head out of the door to my room, wondering who made the noise.

Strewn across the sofa, with one leg dangling off the arm of the couch, the other resting against the floor, hand covering her eyes, was, to my misfortune, Pansy Parkinson. Still clad in her Burberry trench and Christian Louboutin boots.



A/N- Hope you enjoyed this! I'm really excited about this particular fic. I'm already working on chapter two, so hopefully it'll be out soon! Oh, and many of the literary references throughout this will more than likely be noted, in parenthesis, unless written otherwise.

A/N- Here it is! Chapter two! Just a little reminder, this fic is Ginny's recount of the events over the course of her first year in college, so she learns about designers and whatnot thanks to the times she recounts here.



Theories on How Danger Finds Us – Chapter 2


Of all the people I got stuck rooming with, it had to be her.

No, it couldn’t be some former Gryffindor, or some nice girl from Beauxbatons, it had to be HBIC of the Slytherin house, Pansy fucking Parkinson.

And her looking all vulnerable, lounging on the couch, all “woe is me”, like her life is so bleeding awful that she has reason to lay on the sofa in such a manner, did not convince me that the kitty had clipped her claws.

“While I hate to disrupt this moment of yours, is there any particular reason why you had to slam the front door upon entering?” I asked as I hovered over her, arms crossed over my chest, glaring ever so slightly.

Pansy took her hand away from her eyes, cracking them open to look at me. “Weasley?” she asked before bubbling with laughter. “Weasley? Oh, this is just too good! Wait until Draco finds out!” She sat up quickly, clutching her sides as her giggles morphed into belly laughter.

I cleared my throat, slightly annoyed, for this was not the reaction I was hoping for. “Is there something humorous about my presence?” I inquired icily, nostrils flaring.

“No, no, it’s not you, darling,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s just that, well, oh, never mind. It’s really none of your concern,” she finished, waving me off with her hand.

I raised an eyebrow in question. Was I really that repulsive to her? Personally, I think I’d make a pretty fantastic roommate – I’m personable, funny, smart, an all-around amazingly kick-ass kind of girl.

Alright, so maybe I’m just the tiniest bit biased, but still; I’ve never once heard complaints about me as a roommate during my Hogwarts years. At least to my face.

“How long have you been here?” Pansy asked, standing with a languid stretch.

“Maybe an hour or so. The room’s pretty nice. Your bedroom and bathroom is over there,” I responded, pointing to the door directly behind her.

The brunette turned, making note of the door with her name written on it in the same flowing script as mine.

“What are you here for?”

“I’m majoring in English.”

“What types of classes are you taking?”

What was this? The bloody Spanish Inquisition? (No pun intended, by the way.) Twenty questions? No, I thought not.

I smirked, thinking that I had her.

“It’s really none of your concern,” I mimicked, placing my hands on my hips, raising an eyebrow.

Pansy narrowed her eyes, glaring at me with all of the venom in her shriveled, black soul. Her lips were pursed, making for a fairly suitable impression of McGonagall at her most temperamental. I decided right then and there to ask Pansy at a later date as to whether she studied the fine art that is pursing one’s lips.

We stared each other down for a minute or two more before she gave me a smirk of her own.

“You’re not that bad, Weasley,” she announced, crossing her arms across her chest, her smirk growing wider by the second. “I thought you were going to be an absolute pushover. I’m happy to see that there are still some pleasant surprises left out there in this world.”

My glare lessened, but only a little bit.

“We might even become friends,” she added on after a moment’s thought.

It was that simple afterthought that made me lose it.

There are two types of ‘lose it’s for me: I can either completely lose my temper, and start throwing hexes aplenty; or I can burst into the type of hysterical laughter that causes one to clutch to one’s ribcage, wheezing, tears streaming down one’s face.

I chose the latter.

In retrospect, though, that was probably not the most brilliant of ideas I’ve had in my eighteen years. Not quite up there with trusting a magical diary, but it’s definitely up there.

So I erupted into a volcanic sort of laughter -- wheezing, clutching onto my ribcage and all. I didn’t quite reach the point where a torrent of tears poured down my cheeks, but I was close.

It all felt like a role reversal now; “The Prince and the Pauper”-esque, only Pansy was still obscenely loaded, while I struggled with my pithy savings account at Gringotts. I was the one laughing, while Pansy became the petulant, enraged one; glaring daggers at me, her hand sneaking dangerously into a pocket in her trench. It was this small glimpse of potential pain caught in my periph that caused me to sober up pretty darn quick.

Pansy smiled in victory, taking her manicured hand out, resting it on her hip. “I’m glad to see that you find me so bleeding hysterical, Weasley.”

“Anytime, Parkinson. Happy to be of service. If you ever need testing for a comedic routine, you know who to contact,” I replied with a wink, strolling off to my room to finish unpacking.

Pansy followed me. Apparently, she wasn’t done having her little one-sided chit-chat with me.

“No, seriously, Weasley. I want to know why you can’t see the two of us as friends.”

I spun around to face her, suddenly irritated. Was it really that hard for her to understand why? “Is it really that hard for you to understand why? I’ve never liked you, you associate with people that I can’t stand, and you’ve always made fun of me and my family.”

“Is that it?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow. “For someone who’s attending the school they’re attending, you’re acting a bit immature, if I do say so myself. And besides, my friends aren’t all that bad. Draco’s a bit of a pain in the ass and Tracey’s a dependent wreck, but other than that, they’re a decent sort.”

Malfoy’s name stirred an overwhelming feeling of nausea in my stomach, but I swallowed it down; I really didn’t feel up to ruining as nice a trench as Pansy’s.

“And another thing,” I began, pointing a finger at Pansy, “Why would not only you, but Malfoy, be shocked to see me at this school? I got in fair and square, just like you and he did.”

Pansy let out a dry chuckle, leaning against my door frame. “I don’t think you get it, darling,” she began, bending down to take off her boots. “The Lufkin School is one of the most elite wizarding colleges in the British Isles. It costs nearly a small fortune just to attend.” Gosh, I keep on forgetting to explain everything right from the start. I’ll work on that; I promise. Unlike the primary wizarding schools (Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang) wizarding universities require students to pay for their classes and whatnot, much like Muggle universities. Anyways, on with Pansy’s diatribe. “The fact that you’re standing here, is, well, you’re just a fucking anomaly, that’s what you are. So I guess my question is how the hell are you paying for this?”

“I got a scholarship,” was my lame answer. But there was no other way to explain it. I did get a scholarship. The few stipulations were that the school only paid for my academic fees, while I paid for everything else. I never really bothered to pay attention to just how expensive the school was because of how good of a reputation it had. So naturally when I was offered the scholarship, I accepted. I’m not stupid, you know.

“You,” Pansy started, her eyes becoming like that of a deer caught in the proverbial headlights, “You got a scholarship.”

I nodded my head a couple of times. “Yeah. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Weasley, they didn’t give Draco a scholarship, and he’s like some goddamn genius.”

“I’ll concede to that, but then again, he’s not living close to poverty, is he?” I might have exaggerated my family’s financial status, but what Pansy doesn’t know, doesn’t kill her. Right? Right.

“Touché.”

“I never got a chance to ask, but what are you here for?”

“Mass Communications,” Pansy replied a beat later.

“Which translates to?” I asked, prompting her with my hand.

“Journalism, that sort of thing.” ‘That sort of thing’ meaning ‘Not only am I stuck with you as a roommate, but also as a classmate.’ Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

Pansy must have read my mind for she shot me a coy smile, twisting her hands behind her back before she continued. “You know that most of my classes are going to be with you, right?”

“Yes, I am rather aware of that fact.”

“If you’re up to it, we should study together sometime.”

I opened my mouth to make a smarmy rebuttal, but Pansy cut me to the quick. “Think of it as my version of extending the olive branch, a peace offering. I’m not asking you to stay up all night with me, braiding each other’s hair as we gossip about boys, I’m just saying that if you ever need someone to study with, I would be more than willing to join you.”

By that time she had her boots off, dangling in her pale hands, as she stood awkwardly by the entrance to my room. As much as I was loathe to admit at the time, I did appreciate her offering of an academic partnership.

“I’ll think about it,” I told her, proceeding to close the door, hoping she’d get the hint that it was time for me to be all by my onesie for another hour or so, unpacking.

Luckily, Pansy’s a smart girl, and she did take the hint, stepping away carefully, as though she were walking on eggshells, or a frozen lake, trying not to crack the already fragile surface. For that’s what we had right now: surface tension. Like oil and vinegar, or water and liquid soap, our individual surface tensions were too great, preventing us from coagulating properly. Maybe with a little shake, or a proper whisking, we’d be better suited to each other, but as of that moment, we hadn’t reached that point.

I turned back toward my bed, sighing for the second time that day.

I bent down to one of my trunks, pulling out an old Cannons shirt Ron had given me before I left. I held it up to my nose, breathing in the familiar scent of home – freshly cut grass, apple bark, and the various spices Mum uses when cooking. All of it brought on the stunning realization, the crushing reminder that I was no longer home.

I clutched the shirt to my chest, allowing tears to flow freely from my hazel eyes, lit up and glassy from the torrent of emotion running rampant throughout my person.

It was a deluge, as though someone had dealt my emotional dam a final blow; and all because of a shirt.

I’ve always found it rather interesting how much value we put on the seemingly insignificant in life – the t-shirts from family members, that first Valentine from a childhood crush, a toy wand that hints at what’s to come. We cling on to these objects, treasuring them and whatever value we place on them, thinking them to be the most expensive objects we own. But are they really? These little knick-knacks interweave with the threads of our memories, so these memories become the objects and the objects become the memories. When too many of our memories transpose themselves onto a single object, there is memory confusion; a rush of emotion and actions flashing before our eyes anytime our senses come in contact with one of these objects.

It was for this last theory that I began crying over the t-shirt. I was crying for all of the times I laughed with my family, all of the times I fought with them, cheered them on, provided comfort. I cried over the fact that, unlike Hogwarts, none of them were there to guide me. I was so used to a life at school with Ron and the twins; a life where Ron was always the overprotective big brother and where Fred and George knew how to keep me grounded.

I stopped sobbing, dabbing my face with the shirt, before folding it and placing it in one of my myriad drawers.

About an hour later, everything was in its proper place, my trunks stowed underneath my bed. I sat on my bed, falling back onto its goose-down padded surface, turning so I was lying on my side.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep.

A soft knock came upon my door, snapping my eyes open with a start.

Pansy opened the door, sticking her head inside. “Hey, Weasley, I’m going down for dinner. Do you want to come with me?”

I looked down at my stomach, patting it once I heard a distinct grumble. “Sure,” I replied, tentatively.

“Well?” my roommate (now there’s a phrase I had to get used to) asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I wanted to go sometime this millennia, Weasley.” She swung the door open, prompting me to climb my lazy arse out of bed.

I strolled toward the door, allowing Pansy to give me the once over for probably the first time that entire day.

“Okay, I refuse to allow myself to be your roommate without at least three shopping trips,” she stated, hooking her elbow with mine as she led us out the front door.

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. I knew this was going to happen if not sooner, then later: the requisite shopping trip. The kind out of cheesy teen romantic-comedies and pre-teen lit. The kind where the benevolent, occasionally sweet, exorbitantly wealthy, and popular queen bee takes it upon herself to take a piece of female rabble underneath her wing, swearing by all things Christian Dior/Coco Chanel/Yves Saint Laurent/any designer of your choosing that she would make a work of art out of a piece of garbage, a “diamond in the rough”. And because I was within a suitable distance, Pansy had sunk her claws into my Play-Doh-like wardrobe, hoping to make a Venus de Milo out of me; only I would have arms.

And don’t get me wrong, I appreciated her interest into my fashion well-being, but really, was I that unhip?

I chanced a peek down at what I was wearing: a basic white tee (organic cotton, for your information); dark wash, low-rise, straight-legged jeans; and black, round-pointed flats. Again, pretty basic, but also pretty cute. Gareth can attest to that.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked with a pout.

“It’s basically boring, no pun intended,” Pansy replied, haughtily staring me down. “There’s no color to it, no attention-grabbing accessories, and no designer label.”

“Maybe I don’t want attention. Maybe I don’t need the designer label.”

“You say that now, darling, but after a shopping trip with me, you’ll be singing a different tune. Besides, you’re attending one of the more chic wizarding universities in the world; you’re kind of expected to dress and behave in a certain manner.”

“But I thought the whole point of universities accepting certain people is that they like their individual and unique personalities.” Boy was I not jaded yet.

“Oh, that’s a load of bullshit,” Pansy announced, waving off my statement with her hand. “Yeah, maybe they like your personality, but they like you more if you’re grades and test scores are mind-bogglingly outstanding. That, and if you donate to the school, or are willing to pay an arm and a leg for their educational services.”

And, as I was quick to learn with Pansy in regards to her theories on life and the universe, she was right.

“But why me out of all of the other girls you could choose from?” I posed to her.

“Because I think I could have a good deal of fun being around you,” she answered rather honestly. “You’re all over the place with your emotions, which is a nice change from Slytherin girls, but at the same time, you have the snide, sarcastic bits to your personality that could make for very interesting conversation, if developed correctly. It is for this reason that we are sitting with some of my former Housemates this evening at dinner,” she finished with a winning smile.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” I huffed, attempting to pull away, finally recognizing what she was trying to do. She was trying to force a bond, mixing our water and liquid soap personalities together until they were nice and frothy, hoping for the best. And besides, I knew “former Housemates” equaled Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Tracey Davis, amongst others; those three names alone did not come together to form a smashing time in my brain.

I tried to pull away once more to no avail. Pansy had latched on and now there was no turning back.

“Nice try, Weasley, but you’re sitting with me at dinner, and you’re going to have a fabulous time, whether you like it or not,” Pansy spat out through gritted teeth, trying to contain me.

I tried flailing a bit in her grasp, trying to throw a tantrum, but her hold was too strong, and eventually my white flag went up, conceding victory to Ms. Parkinson. “Fine,” I pouted. “But if you insist on being my fashion guru, do you think you can call me by my first name? Hearing ‘Weasley’ reminds me of Malfoy, and I’d rather not have a constant reminder of him, if that’s not asking too much.”

Pansy nodded a couple of times. “Sure, I can handle that. Just as long as you call me Pansy.”

“Okay,” I replied with a smile. Satisfied, we continued walking.

“Wait.” I stopped us, just before we walked through the double doors to the dining hall. “Just because we’re on a first name basis doesn’t mean we can’t snip at each other anymore, does it?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Oh, Merlin forbid we act like best mates and actually like each other, Ginny.” My name sounded weird coming from her.

“I’ll take your sarcasm as a no.”

The brunette by my side grinned, the act lighting up her entire face. “Why don’t you stop being so analytical for now and just see where time takes you?”

I nodded my acquiescence, taking a deep breath as I stepped through the doors.




A/N- Thanks for reading! As always, thanks to my wonderous betas, Ginnygie and Eugenia, for their skillz.

A/N- Here's chapter three! Ginny finally has dinner with the Slytherins! As always, thanks to my fantastic betas, ginnygie and Eugenia.




Chapter 3


The Artemis Dining Hall is an enormous hall, where the unwritten code is “every man for himself” when it comes to eating. It was a first come, first served basis, for the university’s administration expected a decent portion of their students to eventually make some of their own meals.

In theory, it was a good idea since many of the students who attended the Lufkin School were born with silver spoons in their mouths (sometimes platinum or gold, depending on their parents and/or their connections). By fostering this ideal, it could allow for these spolit rich kids to begin to gain a sense of independence. And, again, fantastic in theory, but in reality, it was rare for these kids to even consider cooking as a means of survival.

Myself, on the other hand, well, I’m perfectly content with whipping up a home-cooked meal every once in a while.

Because many of these kids had never learned how to cook, though, they ended up under the influence of the dining hall’s namesake – the larger, more Crabbe and Goyle-esque kids could be seen hovering around the multitude of tables, hunting for that perfect piece of food, preying on the smaller, ganglier kids.

The tables were round; the food was placed in the middle with students all around, chatting about only Merlin knows what. There had to be at least fifty of these tables, with about ten people per table, if not more.

Pansy craned her neck, trying to spot Malfoy’s distinctive white-blond hair.

Three rows in she found him, laughing at something Blaise had probably said. Upon spotting them, Pansy yanked me into the fray, weaving amongst the tables and people crowding the hall.

She picked a seat to the right of Tracey, pulling me down to sit next to Daphne.

“Of course you can sit with us, Pansy,” Theodore Nott announced drily, nudging Malfoy in the ribs, garnering the blond boy’s attention.

“What’s a Weasley doing sitting with us?” Tracey asked rather superiorly. I don’t think I need to make mention that, aside from Pansy, I was the bane of my tablemates’ existences, do I? I didn’t think so.

“I’d appreciate it if you referred to my roommate by her real name, Davis,” Pansy spat out with a sneer.

“What? ‘Ginevra’?” Blaise asked with a chuckle, causing the entire table to erupt in laughter.

Their laughter caused a chain reaction in my body, making my cheeks rosy in embarrassment, forcing me to sink deeper into my seat, trying to disappear, hoping that the floor beneath my feet would swallow me whole.

I snuck a peek at Pansy, hoping that she would be scheming up some snazzy retort, coming to my defence. But, no; instead I saw her covering her mouth with her hand, trying her hardest not to laugh after her reaction to Tracey’s disdain at my joining their table.

Seeing that I would have to be the one to defend my mother’s choice in female names, I sat up straight, deciding that I’d had enough of their verbal abuse.

“What’s so bad about my real name?” I asked, tilting my chin up in a fairly good impression of Tracey’s demeanour of just moments ago.

Pansy sobered up immediately, for as I like to think, she was slightly ashamed that she had joined in with her friends’ laughter. Again, as I like to think.

“It’s rather tragic,” Theo replied snootily. I was really beginning to regret sitting with those people. I could have had a wonderful time at a different table with different people; people like Gareth, for instance.

“I find my name to be rather majestic,” I shot back with a saccharine smile. If you know your history, then you would know that ‘Ginevra’ is a derivative of Guinevere, Arthur Pendragon’s mother. I could go into a whole diatribe about Morgana, and Merlin, and all of those other people, but I’ll spare you; I think you’d rather hear about my first encounter with most of Hogwarts’ seventh year Slytherin class.

“She does have a point, you know,” Malfoy stated with a small smirk.

“So? It still doesn’t change the fact that she has an awful name,” Daphne Greengrass chirped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, if you all detest my name so much, why don’t you just call me ‘Ginny’?” I announced, rather loudly, silencing the entire table, calling all attention to me.

Shit. I did not need all of the focus on me. While I hated the fact that my so-called awful name was the current topic of discussion, I was perfectly content with them not staring so unabashedly at me.

“Be-besides,” I continued, stuttering at first, “I don’t think it matters what you all call me, considering that most of you can’t stand me. And let me tell you, the feeling is mutual. It’s not like I’m going to be spending most of me free time wondering on whether I’ve attained your approval.”

“Since when did you have a spine, Weasley?” Theo asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I know! I asked her the same thing!” Pansy stepped in, giggling a bit.

I really don’t understand other people’s fascination with how sarcastic I’ve become “all of a sudden”. Of course, I wasn’t always this witty, but I would say that I developed my snarky tendencies as I progressed through Hogwarts. And could you blame me? I love my brother, Ron, dearly, but he just walks into situations that beg for sarcastic commentary, and if the twins weren’t quick on the uptake, I was there ready with one of my own. He wasn’t the only one, though; Gryffindors, in general, are just not sarcastic people.

Malfoy likes to joke that I became sarcastic because Voldemort possessed me. You see, that’s only funny when I say it because I lived through it and therefore have every right to make witty observations on the situation. Malfoy, on the other hand, gets slaps onto his person for he seems insensitive to my “special situation” every time he feels like making some smart arsed remark about it.

But, like I was saying, I really don’t understand it. I’m beginning to think about blaming Harry for this caricature that my dating him has created – the idea that I’m perfect, and sweet, and so bloody innocent. For the record, I am far from perfect, I can be sweet when the occasion calls for it, and I grew up with six older brothers. If that doesn’t give you some of the most awkward sex-ed lessons, then I don’t know what will. But then again, it could be that because I was associated with the Fantastic Trio, others (more specifically, the Slytherins) really didn’t feel compelled to get to know who I truly was. So they garnered their knowledge based off of passing observations. And maybe I did, too.

“I’ve always had one,” I replied rather airily. “You’ve just never been around to see it.”

“And you’re Pansy’s roommate?” Blaise asked, leaning towards me as best he could. I nodded. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very fun year,” he finished, leaning back into his seat.

“So, Weasley,” Tracey began. Apparently, Slytherins can’t follow perfectly clear directions. Or at least this particular one can’t. Sorry. “I’m sure the million Galleon question on every one’s mind is how are you paying for this school?”

I sighed, probably a bit more dramatically than I would have liked, but it’s too late now.

“Well?” Tracey asked impatiently. I guess I was taking longer with formulating my response than Ms. Davis liked.

“Oh, sorry; I was just imagining a world where obnoxious, pretentious bints didn’t ask me about things that are none of their concern,” I said, a wistful smile implanting itself onto my face. “It’s so disheartening knowing that it was all just my imagination.”

I sighed once more, just for effect, the effect of that being a bark of laughter from Malfoy, followed by a tittering giggle from Pansy. I looked across the table to see the better part of its occupants trying to contain their laughter at my verbal sparring skills.

To say that I felt guilty for making Tracey look bad would be a lie. I could feel a smug little smile creeping upon me as I revelled in the laughter of my fellow tablemates. Malfoy cleared his throat, attempting to bring the table back to order. “Actually, Weasley, uh – I mean, Ginny,” I’m sorry, but for the life of me, I will never be able to accustom myself to hearing my nickname coming out of Malfoy’s mouth, “we are all rather curious as to why you decided to attend this school. Did you apply to others?”

“Maybe we should move on to a different topic of discussion. I’m sure Ginny doesn’t particularly enjoy our prying,” Pansy stepped in, giving me a significant look. It was in that moment that I fell absolutely in love with Pansy. She was brilliant beyond comprehension with those two sentences, effectively silencing any and all questions regarding my admission to the Lufkin School. I owed her heaps because of those two sentences. She hasn’t called me on it yet, but I hope she doesn’t want me to do anything too outrageous or awful.

“How about we go around and state what our majors are? Maybe we’ll find people who have some classes with us,” Daphne opted, trying to break the awkward silence that Pansy had created. Because her suggestion was so mind-blowing.

Please tell me you caught the sarcasm in that last sentence? You did? Excellent!

“Fine,” Theo replied in a huff, clearly tired of the way the conversation was heading. “I’m majoring in Microbiology. I want to know what the difference is between us and Muggles,” he finished with the kind of brazen, angry aloofness only seen in moody teenage boys and Colonel Aureliano Buendia, of One Hundred Years of Solitude fame. The Colonel is one of my favourite literary characters. He’s a bit of an enigma, I must admit, but I respect his character for standing up for his beliefs and his single-minded determination when it came to living his life. He might have been slightly on the crazy side near the end of his short life, but I can forgive him because I love his character that much.

Blaise let out a low whistle. “Good luck with that, mate.”

“Thanks for your unwavering support,” Theo shot back with a sneer. “Tell us, Blaise; what are you here for?”

“International Relations, with a minor in Political Science,” the other man replied without batting an eye. Impressive, I must say. “Tracey, sweeting, what about you?”

“Interior Design,” Tracey replied with haughty gleam in her eye, which quickly changed into a glare thanks to Pansy’s snort of disbelief. “What?” Tracey queried, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Trace, but I wouldn’t let you decorate my house even if you paid me,” Pansy stated, rather bluntly, trying to contain her laughter. For professing to dislike one another, we were laughing quite a bit.

“What are you trying to imply, Parkinson?” the other brunette girl asked through gritted teeth, placing undue emphasis on Pansy’s last name.

“Nothing, darling, just that if you plan on decorating other people’s houses the way you decorate your own, then you’re not going to have a very successful career.”

Tracey stood up just then, grabbing her Berkin bag as she did so. “I wouldn’t have decorated your place anyways, Pansy.” The irate brunette proceeded to turn on the heel of her Balenciaga platforms, a feat in itself, before stalking away, head held high.

Theo turned to Pansy with a glare. “Thank you so much for royally pissing off my girlfriend. I truly appreciate it,” he stated before running after said girlfriend, pulling her outside of the dining hall in an effort to calm her.

“Well, then,” I began, rather surprised at the influx of tension amongst these supposed best friends. “Would anyone else like to continue?”

Daphne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was clear that she wanted to leave and go see if Tracey was okay. And probably whinge and complain about myself and Pansy while they were at it; with Theo sitting there, staying perfectly silent, just looking moody and pensive and serious, like he always does.

“Daphne, if you want to leave that badly, why don’t you run a long and see if Tracey’s still sulking?” Blaise replied, annoyed that Daphne did not have enough tact to cover up her emotions.

“Oh,” Daphne squeaked, primly rising from her seat, scurrying off as her Erin Featherson dress fluttered behind her.

“I commend the two of you for pretty much clearing this table. Bravo,” Malfoy drawled, giving myself and Pansy mock salutes.

“And thank Merlin you did; I was beginning to get annoyed with Tracey’s bitching and moaning,” Blaise stated. “So, Ginny, what did you think of your first Slytherin dinner?” he asked me with a smirk.

“It was e-eventful,” I stuttered. “I certainly wasn’t expecting Davis to storm off like that.”

“Oh, she does that all the time,” Pansy dismissed with her hand. “She’s such an attention whore; it’s ridiculous. Theo knows she does it, too, yet he’s still with her. Why, I’ll never understand. And Daphne likes to cause trouble. She considers Tracey her partner-in-crime since her sister, Astoria, is still at Hogwarts.”

I giggled when Pansy said “attention whore”. I couldn’t help it; it was funny.

“No matter how hard Daphne tries, she will never be able to beat Pansy in how much dirt they know about other people,” Malfoy stated with a wolfish grin.

“It is this feat that I am incredibly proud of,” Pansy replied with a smile.

“See, Ginny, we aren’t that bad,” Blaise said, motioning to himself, Pansy, and Malfoy. “It’s the other three that you have to worry about.”

“If you detest them so much, then why do you still hang out with them?” I asked.

“We don’t detest them; they just tend to be more melodramatic than we would like,” Pansy answered.

“We never got around to it, but I’m rather curious as to what your major is?” Blaise asked me.

“Oh, um, I’m majoring in English Literature. I already have my schedule, if you’re interested,” I replied. Again, I don’t know what it is with me and adding on more information than is absolutely necessary.

“Ginny!” Pansy shrieked, slapping me on the arm. “You never told me you got your schedule! Gimme, gimme!” she demanded, reaching her claw-like hands out toward my handbag.

“Alright! Alright!” I began yelling, rushing to my bag to fetch my schedule before Pansy ripped my poor canvas bag apart.

I pulled out the small scrap of paper, passing it to Pansy, who then proceeded to pass to the table’s remaining occupants.

“Oh, poo,” Pansy announced with a pout, “you’re in not a single one of my classes this semester,” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back into her chair.

Blaise grabbed a hold of my schedule with Malfoy leaning in to sneak a peek.

The two glanced at each other before their mouths began to twist into identical smirks.

“What?” I asked them. “Those smirks are starting to creep me out a little bit.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Malfoy replied. “It’s just that me and Blaise are in your Advanced Arithmancy class.”

Oh, bloody fucking hell.

This was going to be one hell of a year.

A/N- Thanks to my lovely betas, ginnygie and Eugenia. Hope you enjoy! Please review with your thoughts.



Theories on How Danger Finds Us – Chapter 4


I guess that the news of Blaise and Malfoy being in my Advanced Arithmancy class was a little too much for me to comprehend at that moment, for the next thing I knew I was out the door, just barely hanging onto my bag as I sped toward my dorm.

I could hear a faint shouting of my name being called, probably by Pansy, but I was already too immersed in my tunnel vision to notice, or even care.

I felt as though I were underwater – breathing became hard, as though the air around me was thinning by the second, and the only senses I recognized were how to see and how to feel. I was running fast, though, rather than the slow, graceful, gliding movements of swimming. But soon everything became a blur; the only clear object being the front door of Juno.

I took the steps by twos, leaping up to my room, bolting for my bedroom, where I shut myself inside.

About five minutes later, I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

“Ginny, open up. It’s me, Pansy.”

“No,” I whinged, sounding very much like a petulant three year old.

“You’re being very immature right now,” Pansy called back, her voice slightly muffled.

“I really don’t care,” I replied in a sing-song voice, reaching back toward my bed for a pillow to squeeze. “Besides,” I continued, “it’s not like Blaise and Malfoy actually like me. They could probably care less.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Malfoy announced, swinging my door open with a flourish, twirling his wand in his left hand.

Blaise stepped ahead of Malfoy, so he was standing in my room. “Now before you get your knickers in a twist, Ginny dear, Draco and I were just curious as to why you ran off all of a sudden. We were thoroughly enjoying your company,” he said with a pout.

“I know why,” Pansy announced with a smirk, “Ginny’s just too much of a Gryffindor to admit why though.”

Pansy knew she had me. My emotions are so transparent, I might as well be a window, and Pansy knew a weakness when she saw it. As a Slytherin it was only her duty to exploit my weakness. Damn her.

“I am not!” I shouted back at her, defending my status as a proud Gryffindor.

“Then prove it. Tell Blaise and Draco why you ran off,” Pansy demanded, placing her hands on her hips, making her angular body even more angular.

I lifted the pillow over my face, mumbling my answer into it, feeling the soft cotton against my lips.

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t hear you due to the pillow covering your mouth,” Blaise pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

I lowered my goose down shield, repeating what I had previously said.

“What was that? You might want to try enunciating your words when you speak to others,” Malfoy taunted, a smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t stand the idea of you and Blaise being in a class with me!” I yelled at the two smug boys, throwing my pillow at Malfoy.

I smiled when Malfoy didn’t move his head fast enough, coming face to face with a mouth full of pillow. He let it drop to the floor, a ring of saliva showing where his mouth had been. I made a mental note to burn that particular pillow case lest I wanted Malfoy’s DNA mixing with my own while I slept.

Another feeling of nausea swept over me.

“Is that all?” the blond boy asked, kicking my pillow towards me. “Pansy was right; you are acting rather immature.”

What did expect me to do? Jump up and down like some hyper-active five year old that was given sweets? Run up to him and Blaise and give them each a hug, expressing my joy to have been lucky enough to get classes with them? No, I did not do a single one of those things, nor did I want to. Their treatment of me, as well as my friends, the years that we were in Hogwarts did nothing to garner my respect. Pansy was lucky in that I begrudgingly liked her then, but that was because she wasn’t as bad as those two were. Almost every day, without fail, I was insulted by one of them, Malfoy especially. And the fact that Malfoy, of all people, was so willing to let bygones be bygones was just too unbelievable for me to comprehend. It seemed rather suspicious, too. Besides, I have a tradition to uphold, and we Weasleys are sticklers for tradition.

“Excuse me? I’m acting immature? You’ve insulted me and my family, not to mention my friends, at almost every chance you got in the years that I have gone to school with you. And now, you expect me to be happy that the one kid who tormented me is in a class with me? Not only that, but you want me to be friends with you. I’m sorry; I don’t know how things work where you come from, but in the real world, most kids would feel the same way that I’m feeling right now,” I spat, jabbing my index finger into Malfoy’s chest for emphasis.

He pushed my hand away with ease, making eye contact with me and locking it. “Look -- I know I’ve done some monumentally stupid things in the past; many of them that I would rather forget. And I know that I tried my hardest to make your life, and the lives of others, a living hell, but I’m trying not to now. It’s only been a year for me; I’ll probably slip up every now and then and insult your oaf of a brother, like I just did. I’m not asking you to become my best mate; I’m just saying that, if given the chance, you might grow on me.”

Well. That certainly changed things. This was all new and unexpected. I was expecting some rallying cry of outrage against who I am and what I stood for. Not this almost-defeatist attitude toward life. Not this self-loathing, self-pitying sap who actually cared about my opinion for once. I wanted the old Malfoy back. The one I could rile-up and hex, the one I could have an insult fight with.

I stepped back, suddenly turned off by his change in demeanour.

“Oh, ok,” I whispered, turning away from the trio of Slytherins in my room. I grabbed my pillow off the floor, and threw it on the bed, my body following soon after. The pillow cushioned my head as I wrapped some of it around me, covering my ears, letting out a wail of discontent.

So much for burning my pillow case.

“Is – Is she going to be alright?” I heard Blaise ask, pointing at me, I assume.

“I think so,” Pansy replied. “Maybe she’s having a Tracey moment and just needs to be left alone for a bit to digest everything.” She paused for a moment. “I think the two of you should leave. If anything of your concern happens, I’ll let you know.”

I heard not a peep from the two boys as they exited my room, only the click of my door shutting behind Pansy.

Now I felt conflicted. I had become so accustomed to the insults and the taunting and the jeering that when I was treated like something other than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoes, I ran, scared shitless as to why I was being treated as such. Because if everyone at that table had chosen the route that Tracey Davis did, then I would have been fine because I was used to nothing less than what she gave me. But, now; now I didn’t know what to do. One would think that I would be happy right now, knowing that I already have a semblance of respect and acceptance from at least three of them, but my mind couldn’t wrap around the idea.

Truthfully, though, my mind was more unaccustomed to Malfoy being civil to me, more than anything else. He was the one that stuck with insulting me and my friends more than Blaise or Pansy ever did. And thus, he had stigmatized himself in my mind as someone to be wary of, someone to never associate with. So imagine how I must have felt knowing that he was going to be in a class with me. It was going to be a completely different experience.

I turned over so I was lying on my back, lifting up slightly so I could flatten my pillow.

I stared listlessly at the ceiling, wondering if maybe I was over-analyzing the entire situation.

The more I stared at the ceiling, the more I grew to realise that I probably was making a big deal out of something so insignificant.

So what if Malfoy wasn’t the self-absorbed prick that I grew up with? Like all teenagers, Malfoy had, more than likely, matured. I was slowly on my way there, but, as evidenced by my childish freak-out, I wasn’t quite there yet.

Still, I didn’t really like his new manner of talking to me -- that laid-back, nonchalant, aloof attitude to not just me, but everything around him. So he made a sarcastic comment every now and then, and maybe he smirked at something he found particularly amusing, but there was just something about this new and not-so-improved Malfoy that didn’t sit well with me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, reaching up to place my hands underneath my pillow.
I began to feel like Demetrius and the gang at the end of A Midsummer Night’s Dream –


“These things seem small and undistinguishable,

Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.”


The more I thought about what had transpired, the more ridiculous my reaction seemed. It’s a rare occurrence to find people that are that willing to befriend you, no matter what your history with them may be. And considering the fact that I knew close to no one at the Lufkin School, I was a fool for denying two possible friends just because I was too immature to let some stupid prejudice and family feud take a backseat in my mind.

Pansy and Malfoy were right; I was acting immature.

I sat up suddenly, exited my room, and crept over to Pansy’s in hopes that the blunt brunette could help me sort out the mess I had created.

“Pansy?” I asked, knocking softly on her bedroom door.

She didn’t answer, but the door opened, my roommate looking out to see who was there. Upon seeing my face, she flung the door open, staring me down with all the fury contained in her slender body.

“What is it that you want?” she spat, a sneer marring her features.

“I wanted to talk to you, and apologize for my behaviour. But mostly to apologize, though,” I replied, making an attempt at a sheepish smile.

“You don’t have to apologize to me; it’s Blaise and Draco that you need to apologize to. They’re my friends and I trusted you to not act like a five year-old when I brought you to sit with us at dinner. And for most of it, you were perfectly fine; brilliant, even, with the way you handled Tracey. But as soon as you found out that Blaise and Draco were in a class with you, you ran like some snivelling brat who didn’t get their way. And instead of accepting the fact that the two of them were actually making an effort to get to know you before rejecting you, you refuse them that chance; cutting them down and acting in the way that I feared you would. And you know what’s funny?” She paused her, laughing bitterly. “They were actually concerned about your well-being when they left. When they had every right to say ‘Fuck Ginny Weasley. Just because she’s Pansy’s roommate doesn’t mean we have to associate with her.’ But no, they didn’t.”

“Okay, Pansy, I get it!” I yelled at her, shutting her up. “I royally fucked up! And you shouting at me like some damn banshee isn’t helping me out at all. I told you that I wanted to talk to you, and I do. I know I did all of the things you mentioned, but I was just confused is all. I’ve never been used to being treated like an equal by any Slytherin and I was afraid, I guess. But that’s why I want to talk to you; I need your help in sorting out the confusion that’s currently plaguing my mind. So do you think you can help?”

Pansy let go of the door, letting her arm fall to the side as she grabbed a hold of it with the other.

She sighed, allowing her perfect posture to crack slightly, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. She looked so tired. Upon closer inspection I saw that she had taken off her make-up – she didn’t get all of the mascara off, the result being the even further pronouncement of the dark circles under her eyes.

“I don’t know, Ginny,” she told me after contemplating for a minute or so.

“Please, Pansy,” I pleaded. “You told me you put your faith in me and I’m just asking you to do it again. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Fine,” Pansy replied with another sigh. “But this better be worth my time, Ginny.”

I nodded fervently, stepping inside her room.

Pansy walked over to her bed, flopping down upon it. She patted a space next to her, motioning for me to lie down next to her. She flung her left arm across her eyes, mirroring the position I first saw her in today on the sofa. “Come on, Ginny. I feel like lying down while we talk, so hurry up and either sit down or lie down next to me. I don’t bite. I swear; you can ask Blaise or Draco.”

I nodded once more, scurrying over to the side of the bed that was not occupied by Pansy’s prone body, deciding to lie down next to her with my hands clasped over my abdomen. It was uncomfortable and awkward as all hell, but I was determined to sort through everything and if that meant lying down on Pansy’s bed, then so be it.

“Alright, you said you wanted to talk, so talk,” Pansy announced to the ceiling, prompting me with her right hand.

“Oh, right. Well, I was thinking about what had happened and I do realise that I was acting incredibly immature, but I guess, more than anything, I just need someone to talk to.”

Pansy looked over to me with a barely-cracked open eye. “Well, you admitted that you acted immature, so we’re making some progress.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied with a smirk.

“Anytime, Ginny. Now, continue.”

I sighed. Gulping, I did as Pansy commanded. “I think out of everything that happened, the thing that surprised me the most was how Malfoy, I mean Draco,” I corrected after receiving a harsh glare from Pansy, “treated me. Like I said before, I have not one Slytherin has treated me like an equal in the years that we were at Hogwarts. I think the only person who was close was Blaise, but even then, there was always the slightest hint of distain with him. But I’ve just been so used to having to defend myself when speaking to Draco that when he talked to me today, saying that he actually wants to get to know me, well, what else was I supposed to do? I’ve always had to be hostile and on my guard when around him, and to have a non-snarky conversation with him was just awkward. But the more that I think about it, the more silly I seem.” I stopped, feeling like I was babbling, waiting to see if Pansy had anything to add.

She sat up, placing her hands on either side of her, turning her torso so she was looking down at me.

“Truthfully, I don’t think you were being ridiculous, or silly, or any other synonym you wish to use. While I understand why you may have been wary when Draco spoke to you, I still stand by the fact that you handled everything in a very juvenile manner. But, again, I understand that after years of having Draco, the pain in the arse he is, berate you and your family, you did the thing that was most logical and most natural to you: you panicked. You probably thought he had something sinister up his blended silk sleeves, and when he admitted to you that he just wanted to put the past behind him, you regressed back into the familiar defence mechanism of trying to rile him up, and when that didn’t work, you shut everyone out.”

She was right. Didn’t I tell you before that Pansy’s theories on life and the universe are always right? Whether I liked it or not, she was bloody right. I really am just like a bleeding window when it comes to my emotions, but Pansy...she just knows how to read me. I don’t know how, but she sees it all.

“Anything you’d like to add?” Pansy asked.

“No, I think you covered it all. I did panic. I chickened out because I too bloody afraid of what would happen if I did let the past stay in the past. I wanted my attending university to be a new experience for me – one where I was able to have a fresh start. I wasn’t expecting such an assault to my brain, especially on my first day here.”

“Do you feel better now?” the girl next to me enquired, raising a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

I sighed for what seemed like the billionth time in about five minutes. “Yeah, I do, actually,” I replied with a relieved smile and a giggle.

“Happy I could be of service,” Pansy responded, flopping back down on the bed, turning away from me.

“So what do I do now?” I asked, feeling the strangest urge to want to apologize to Blaise and Draco (have to make an effort to use his real name) right at that moment.

“I dunno,” Pansy answered irritably.

I grabbed her hand, attempting to pull her up and out of her bed.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” she very nearly yelled at me.

“Are Blaise and Draco rooming together?”

“Of course, but why does that --”

“Which dorm are they staying in?” By this point I was standing, heading toward the front door.

“Poseidon,” my roommate replied, running out to follow me. “Ginny! Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to apologize to Draco and Blaise; that’s what I’m doing,” I stated, making it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world for me to be doing. And in my mind, it was.

Pansy tried to stop me, but I was already out the door, making my way toward Poseidon.

“Bloody crazy Gryffindor,” I heard Pansy mutter not too far behind me, letting me know that she was following me, albeit on stilettos, so she was slightly slow in catching up with me.

“I heard that!” I called back, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

“You were meant to!”

Finally she caught up with me, hooking her arm with mine, steering me in the correct direction of where the dorm was located.

It wasn’t that far from Juno, and at the rate we were walking, we got to the steps of Poseidon in about five minutes.

We ran up the wooden steps, racing to the third floor and to the end of the hallway, to number 310, and began pounding on the door.

No one answered right away and we turned away, figuring that the two boys were in bed for the night.

We heard a door open and turned back around, hoping to see Blaise or Draco pop their heads out to see who was banging obnoxiously at their door.

Instead someone from the room across from theirs, number 309, stuck their head out to see as to who was making all the noise.

“Ginny?” I heard a voice ask into the near darkness.

I whipped my head around, squinting to see who called out my name.

“Gareth?” I asked, realizing who it was.

Pansy and I approached Gareth, with my roommate becoming suddenly giddy at the prospect of meeting fresh meat.

“What are you doing here?” Gareth asked, stepping out into the hallway.

“I came here with my roommate, Pansy,” I began, motioning to said roommate, “to visit two friends of ours who live in the room across from you.”

Just at that moment Draco opened the door to his room, walking out into the hallway in a pair of black silk trousers and a grey t-shirt.

“What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Who was knocking on my door?”

Pansy let go of me, turning to face a sleepy Draco. “That would be the crazy redhead’s doing. She wanted to talk to you and Blaise.”

“Oh, well, can’t she talk to us in the morning?”

I turned away from Gareth to answer Draco. “No, I can’t talk to you in the morning. It’s really important.”

“Do you even have any idea what time it is?”

“No, and I don’t particularly care.”

“I forgot how stubborn you get when you set your mind on something,” Draco sighed, moving out of the way to let me and Pansy into his room.

Pansy and I stepped inside, while Draco closed the door behind us, with poor Gareth standing outside in the hallway, looking like some fool, his barely whispered “Good-bye” just making itself known to my ears.

Draco prompted Pansy and I to sit down on the couch, while he went to fetch Blaise from his room.

Once Draco was in Blaise’s room, Pansy tilted over on the sofa, bouncing slightly when her head hit the sofa’s arm. “I’m going to sleep. Let me know when you’re done,” she mumbled, bringing an arm up to cover her eyes from any light.

“Can someone please tell me why I’m being dragged out of bed?” Blaise said to no one in particular, shuffling into the living room after Draco.

“That would be my fault,” I announced, raising my hand in the air.

“Oh, well, what in Merlin’s name do you want?” he asked, plopping down into a chair across from the sofa. “Is that – Is that Pansy lying down next to you?” he asked before I had a chance to speak.

“Shh!” Pansy answered for me, placing a finger over her lips. “Me sleep, you talk to Ginny.”

“Wouldn’t we all like to sleep?” Blaise said with a wistful smile.

“I’ll make this really quick, I promise,” I assured the two guys.

“Alright, Ginny. Let’s get this over with, so we can go back to sleep,” Draco mumbled, sinking further into his seat.

“I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour today, or yesterday; I don’t know what time it is. Either way, I was being incredibly immature, like you said, but I’ve been so used to being look at with disdain by the two of you, that I didn’t know anything different. I’m not going to lie; having the two of you acting civil towards me is going to take some getting used to, but I’m willing to have the two of you as my friends.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Draco replied, placing a hand over his chest in mock relief. “Blaise and I were so worried that we would never get to know you. This really takes a heavy burden off of us. We were sick with worry.” He smirked at me, causing me to smirk in return. There was the Draco I was used to – all sarcasm and smirks. I sighed in relief.

“So is that all you needed to say to us? That you’re sorry?” Blaise asked, his eyes flickering shut.

“Yeah, pretty much. Do you forgive me?”

“I think it’s safe to say that you’re in our good graces again,” Blaise replied with a smile.

“Oh, good,” I stated with a smile. “Well, I’m done here. Come on, Pansy; let’s go back to our dorm.”

She didn’t stir right away, so I shook her prone form, a groan escaping from her lips. “Pansy, get your arse up. We need to get back to our dorm.” I shook her again, harder this time, finally getting her to sit up.

I began walking to the door with Pansy following me after stretching her arms over her head languidly.

“Ta,” she said to Draco and Blaise with a wiggle of her fingers, yawning afterwards.

“See you tomorrow in class!” Blaise called out to me with a chuckle, jabbing Draco in the ribs to wake him up.

I didn’t turn around to acknowledge them, only gave them a little salute as I strolled out the door, a groggy Pansy trailing behind me.

“Are you satisfied?” Pansy asked, her eyelids drooping with each step she took.

“Yeah; I’m satisfied now,” I replied with a crooked smile and a shrug.

“Good. I can finally get some sleep now.”

The walk back to Juno seemed like a slow trek – Pansy nearly fell forward onto the pavement she was so tired, forcing me to grab hold of her waist and fling an arm over my shoulders, nearly dragging her back to our room.

She was knocked out by the time we reached our room, so before I was able to settle in for the night, I had to make sure that my roommate was settled. I placed Pansy’s dead weight on her bed as gently as I could, pulling her comforter up over her body before I trudged over to my room, finally and blissfully tired.

As I tucked myself in for a dreamless sleep, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe my life at the Lufkin School wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought it was going to be.

A/N- Sorry this took me so long to write! I got so wrapped up in finishing chapter one of Every Season that I forgot about this particular fic. lol. Hopefully, I made up for this by giving you guys a long chapter.

Thanks, as always, to my beta Eugenia. Also, thanks to those who nominated my fic(s) for the list of new classics over at

FIA's Forums

. Seeing them nominated has made me so happy! =D



Theories on How Danger Finds Us - Chapter 5


Everything will be fine in the morning was what my mother espoused the most in her years of raising seven unruly children.

And it worked for just about every situation that might have been wrong in our lives at that time – sibling rivalries, relationship troubles, and/or school problems. It even worked for me when I had the Diary; well, to a certain extent, at least. It was this mantra that helped me realize that Tom wasn’t the best person/spirit to be associating with.

I mean, let’s face it; sometimes all we need is that good night’s rest for whatever ordeal we were dealing with to suddenly make all the sense in the world. By morning, you’d always have a clearer, more refined picture of what plan of action would work best when tackling your situation.

Such was the case when I awoke that second morning. I had a vague recollection of the events from last night and I must have run the gamut of emotions as I sat in my bed, thinking about that entire day.

The last emotion I felt was more like a combination of emotions – relief, happiness, and anxiety. I was relieved that I wasn’t abhorred by Draco and/or Blaise. I was happy that I had apologized and was able to sort everything out. And I was anxious as to how my classes were going to turn out. I already knew two people in my Arithmancy class, but I knew of no one else who were in my classes.

I rose slowly from my bed, walking over to my closet to grab what I would wear for my first day of classes.

I wanted to look fabulous, and suddenly, I was beginning to feel that I should have met Pansy earlier so she could have given me the make-over that I wanted for today.

I stood at the threshold to my closet, my eyes raking over my collection of jeans, t-shirts, somewhat dressy slacks, flats, and trainers, and felt that none of it was exactly up to par. I had gotten rid of my skirts as soon as I graduated from Hogwarts. Either way, I wouldn’t have been able to wear them as I never received a new set of skirts, so they would have been short to the point of scandal. And I really didn’t fancy having guys’ eyes fixated on my arse every time I stepped outside of my room.

I finally settled on a pair of dark-wash jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a pair of black, heeled boots, and a teal jacket that tied at the waist. Satisfied that my outfit of choice wasn’t completely awful, I stepped into the shower.

I walked out of my bathroom not ten minutes later to find Pansy hovering over my bed, picking up each article of clothing I had set out to wear that day with her thumb and index finger, looking at them with mild disdain before setting them down.

I cleared my throat to alert her to my presence, laughing as she jumped in alarm.

“Oh, morning, Ginny,” she began, acting as though I didn’t catch her rifling through my clothes. “What you picked out for today is not that bad.”

I smiled, rolling my eyes as I responded with, “I guess since it’s coming from you, I should take that as a compliment.”

“I think you should!” Pansy replied almost indignantly.

“Pansy, as much as I would love to hear you continue your bereavement of my chosen attire, I do have a class to get to this morning, so I need to get dressed.”

Pansy walked over to my bedroom door to leave, stopping before she exited. “This weekend: you, me, and shopping.”

“If it’ll make you happy,” I called as she left.

She didn’t respond, but I heard her bedroom door close, so I only assumed that she was back in her room.

About five minutes later, I was dressed, fixing up my hair when someone knocked on my door.

“Ginny,” I heard Pansy shout on the other side of my door. “You have vis--”

She was cut-off as Blaise and Draco strolled into my room.

“Or you can just walk right in. She might have been starkers for all you two idiots knew,” Pansy continued, following the pair of boys.

“Damn. Looks like we were a minute too late,” Blaise said to Draco, snapping his fingers.

“What are you two doing here?” I asked, turning away from the mirror near my closet.

“Hello to you, too, Ginny,” Draco replied with a smirk.

“Well?” I queried with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, we were in the neighbourhood and since, you know, you, me, and Blaise have a class together, we thought we’d pop by and escort you,” Draco supplied, smiling.

“Oh, how gallant and dashing of the both of you,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.

“Yes, well, we thought so, too,” Blaise responded in a bored tone, buffing his nails against chest.

“Are you ready?” Draco asked, extending an arm out for me to grab. My eyes flicked from his arm to his face and back again. He jiggled his arm. “Come on, Ginny; it’s not like I have cooties. Besides, class starts in ten minutes. We need to leave.”

I sighed, grabbing a hold of his arm, when Blaise hooked his arm with my free arm, flashing me a smile as he did so.

“Don’t you three just make the cutest group?” Pansy cooed with a smirk.

“She’s just jealous,” Draco whispered, leaning down to my ear. I giggled, not even caring about the vicinity of his lips to my face.

Blaise dragged our rag-tag group to the door, leading us downstairs.

“Try not to get into monumental amounts of trouble!” we heard Pansy shout over the clobbering of our feet.

“Yes, Mum!” Blaise shouted back with a cheeky grin.

“So where exactly is our Arithmancy class?” I asked once we were outside my dorm, raising my hand to my face as best as I could to shield my eyes from the sun.

“Not too far from the administration building,” Draco replied to the right of me. “But, like I said earlier, class starts soon, and I don’t want us to be late.”

“Draco’s really anal about getting to his classes on time. Used to drive me and Pansy insane. You get used to it though,” Blaise whispered to me.

“I’m sorry if I value my education,” Draco shot back with a glare.

“I’m going to have to go with Draco on this one, Blaise. It’s our first day of classes and I would like to make a good impression on our professors,” I stated, causing Draco to smirk in victory.

“Okay, I’ll concede to the fact that today it is most important to make a good impression, but just wait, Ginny. After going through this every day, you’ll get annoyed with him, too.”

“And you’ll be the first one to know. Okay?”

“Fine. I’ll be there to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Fair enough.”

I unhooked my arms, suddenly aware that we were still linked and didn’t feel up to explaining any questioning looks or comments we might receive. Neither guy seemed to notice and we continued to our class, making it just in time.

We entered the class room as one unit, and luckily it wasn’t crammed with students, like I had thought it to be.

Draco and Blaise immediately found seats in the back, pulling out their books, immersing themselves in conversation, seeming to completely forget about me.

I stood, dumbly, at the entrance to the classroom, wondering where I should sit.

The longer I stood, the more susceptible I was to someone bumping into me in their rush to get to class, and about five seconds later, my theory was proven.

I felt someone bump their shoulder against mine, knocking my bag to the ground, causing some of my books and papers to spill to the wood floor.

Draco and Blaise looked up to see what caused the ruckus, laughing when they saw me scramble to the ground, picking up my belongings.

“I am so sorry about that,” I heard someone next to me say, bending down to help me pick up my stuff.

“Oh, it’s really no big deal; I shouldn’t have been standing there,” I replied, looking up to see who bumped into me.

They looked up as well, smiling when they realized it was me they bumped into. “Ginny,” Gareth breathed. “You’re in this class?”

“Yeah,” I replied with a smile.

“Do you have a place to sit yet?” he asked with trepidation.

I glanced back at the two Slytherins that escorted me here and found them still entrenched in their own little world.

I turned back to Gareth. “No, I don’t. Do you want to sit next to me?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he responded, extending a hand to help me up off the floor.

We found two seats near the front, far away from Draco and Blaise.

Gareth turned to me once we were seated, his eyebrows furrowed. “We never did get to finish our conversation last night, this morning, I guess. What exactly were you doing at my dorm last night?”

“I had a rough first day and I was trying to make amends when you saw me.”

“Should I even ask?” Gareth queried, squinting his eyes, raising an eyebrow, and tilting his head, making for an incredibly adorable picture.

I smiled and gave a sort of chuckle; a reaction from his facial expression. “No, probably not. There’s too much back story.”

Just then our professor made his entrance, causing all conversation to cease.

“Maybe another time then,” Gareth whispered before our class got into full swing.

For the next hour and a half, Gareth and I could barely two words to each other as we had become fully submerged in the world of Advanced Arithmancy, which is probably along the lines of Calculus. Not exactly Multi-Variable, but it’s close. It’s still intense all the same though.

Pretty much everyone in our class breathed a sigh of relief upon the class ending, the professor’s lightning fast dictation finally getting to us.

“So, what did you think?” Gareth asked, turning towards me as the class started to dwindle out.

“I was wondering how our professor could go for so long without breathing. I mean, did he even take a breath over the course of his lecture?” I replied with a laugh.

The two of us rose in unison, heading for the door, stopping before we reached the exit.

“What’s your next class?” Gareth asked, leaning against the door frame.

I pulled my schedule out of my bag, glancing at it before responding. “Looks like it’s European Magical History. What about you?”

“Um, I think it’s Microeconomics in the Wizarding World.”

“Aw, that’s too bad; I was hoping I might actually get a chance to talk to you without interruption,” I said, smiling.

“How about lunch? You don’t have any plans do you?”

“Not that I know of,” I answered with a shrug. “I’ll seek you out.”

“Great! Well, I hate to run, but I have no clue where my next class is, and I need time to figure it out.”

“Oh! Me too! Thanks for reminding me that we actually have more than one class. I’ll see you at lunch then,” I said, walking away from a grinning Gareth, heading in the direction of where I thought my next class was.

About three minutes and some well-given directions later, I had made it to the history department, named after the goddess, Athena, located near the dining hall. The Greeks and Romans didn’t have a specific god or goddess for history, so I still find it rather odd that they decided to keep up with the whole ancient mythology shtick they have going on. I mean, Artemisia Lufkin, herself, did not pay for everything on the school grounds; I’m sure she had patrons and, as is custom, these other patrons usually like to have things named after them, so I don’t know how she got away with it.

But, like I was saying, I had made it to my next class without any bodily harm upon my person, hiking my bag further up my shoulder before I stepped inside.

As was the case with my Arithmancy class, the professor was nowhere to be found, so at a loss as to what I should do, I stood near the front of the class trying to find a place to sit.

“Psst! Ginny! Over here!” I heard someone shout-whisper from the back of the class. I looked out upon the students already seated when a hand shot up into the air, pulling my line of vision over to its owner.

“Ginny! Here; come sit next to me,” the owner of the hand, and now the voice, shout-whispered, completely disregarding the rest of the class, all of whom were now shooting death glares and other various forms of ocular fire in the poor guy’s direction.

Not wanting to be the cause of possible regrettable actions made by members of my history class, I walked over to the guy, plopping down in the seat next to him. “You do realize, Blaise, that half the class wants to kill you, don’t you?”

Blaise gave me a winning grin, waving me off with a hand. “Oh, I don’t care about those self-absorbed sods. I’ve never seen a class act so sombre in my entire life. They need to take the broomstick that shoved so far up their arses out.”

“So, you’re in my European Magical History class,” I stated rather blandly.

“I’m in your European Magical History class,” Blaise replied, smirking.

“Why are you taking this class?”

“Why are you taking this class?” Blaise mimicked, affecting a falsetto of what he thought my voice sounded like.

“Just answer the question, Blaise. And my voice does not sound like that,” I commanded, rolling my eyes.

He pouted. “Oh, you’re no fun. If this were Pansy or Draco, this would last for hours in a game of one-upmanship.”

“Yes, well, I’m neither Pansy nor Draco, so I’m curious as to why you’re in this class.”

“It’s a requirement for my major. I guess they figure that if we learn about the mistakes of the past, then we are better informed as to how to not make the same mistakes in the future.” He paused with a snort. “Because that works so well. There’s a reason why the phrase ‘history repeats itself’ is so popular. But you’re an English major, what would you be doing here?” he queried, raising an eyebrow.

“All first year students have to take at least one history class. It was either this or American Magical History.”

Blaise shuddered when I said “American Magical History”.

“Tell me about it,” I replied, nodding sagely.

“You made the better choice,” Blaise said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I sure hope so.”

Our conversation was cut off soon after that, though, since our professor entered just then, robes swirling around her in a flurry. Truthfully, I’d say it was a pretty good impression of Severus Snape. No one can swirl robes like that man can. This woman was pretty darn close. Maybe she’s his sister, or something. I don’t think Snape has a sister, but if he did, it’d be this woman.

Thankfully, this class wasn’t as intense as my first class. It mostly consisted of the professor telling us what it is she’d be covering over the course of her class, as well as some recommended reading that might help us with the class. We ended the class with her beginning a lecture on the old tribal magic that began with tribal leaders and their unstable brand of magic. Back then, apparently, the tribal leaders were unaware as to the full extent of their magical powers because, with them, their magic came in bursts, similar that of developing wizards and witches. I had a feeling I was going to like the class since the professor made it interesting and used grandiose gestures, which really didn’t help her out at all because the robes always somehow made those gestures look ridiculous, causing the class to erupt in laughter. But the professor doesn’t mind; unlike Snape, she has a wicked sense of humour and, as the year progressed, she would have the class act out certain important historical events, if our schedule allowed for it.

Blaise and I walked out of the class together, heading toward my dorm.

“What did you think of history?” he asked.

“I like what I see so far. Our professor really knows what she’s talking about.”

“Who was the berk you were talking to before Arithmancy?”

“Gareth is not a berk. He’s a sweet Durmstrang boy.” I guess my presence prompted a multitude of questions directed to me from any Slytherin within a three metre radius, for I’d heard my fair share of questions from them and it was only the second day.

“‘Sweet’ and ‘Durmstrang’ are usually not two words I’d put together in the same sentence,” Blaise said, laughing.

“But he is!” I protested, rallying in defence of Gareth.

“You’ve obviously forgotten your third year and the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I haven’t, but he really is nice. I’m going to sit with him during lunch today.” I replied, suddenly showing a bit more pep in my step, walking ahead of Blaise.

“Stop sashaying, Ginny,” Blaise told me bluntly. “That only works when you’re in heels.”

I turned around to him with a pout. “Why? You don’t think it’s cute?”

The apples of his cheeks pinkened slightly, before he cleared his throat. I smirked in victory. “You think it’s cute,” I cooed, clearly pleased with myself for slightly ruffling Blaise’s feathers.

“Alright, it’s just the tiniest bit cute because of how exaggerated it was. You looked like a six year-old trying to impersonate her mother.”

I slapped Blaise on the shoulder, affecting a look of mock hurt. “That wasn’t very nice,” I said before walking away.

“But it’s true!” the former Slytherin replied, running to catch up with me.

“You think you can do better?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I can do better,” he shot back, matching my raised eyebrow and raising me a smirk.

“I don’t believe you!” I said, laughing.

Blaise raised his eyebrow to an impossible height, turning to face forward before completely outdoing my pathetic excuse for a strut.

I wanted to laugh, I desperately wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I was too gobsmacked to do nothing more than let my jaw drop to my collarbone, watching as Blaise erupted into laughter.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” I asked once I gathered enough of my wits to form a coherent response to that.

“I had way too much time on my hands as a kid than should have been allotted to me, what with my mum practically dragging me on every shopping trip she went on. I thought it would be funny to imitate the ridiculous women I saw at the various shops and boutiques.”

“You were a weird child, Blaise. I mean that was better than most women’s.”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard before. Pansy told me once that I should train models for the runway, except for the fact that there’s one teensy problem: I’m not gay.”

“Really?” I asked sceptically. “No straight man can do that.”

“I swear on my many fathers’ graves that I am straight as an arrow. You can ask Draco.”

“Please don’t tell me you do that on a daily basis.”

“Are you kidding? And be made fun of by the entirety of Hogwarts? No, thanks; I’ll pass. Draco and Pansy only know because of a very drunken game of truth or dare.”

“I don’t need to hear anything else,” I stated, shaking my head fervently.

Blaise laughed, walking back to me. “I wasn’t planning on it. Although, now that it’s mentioned, I need to plan one of those nights – see what we can get out of you,” he told me with a leer.

“I’m not doing anything that I don’t want to. Besides, I bet I can drink any of you under the table,” I lied. Well, I lied about the last part. Charlie and the twins can attest to the fact that I am a total light-weight.

“I’ll hold you to that, Miss Weasley,” he said, grinning.

“And I’ll make sure that you never do.”

“Aw, come on; where’s that famous Gryffindor spirit and bravado you’re constantly harping about?” Blaise queried, punching me lightly on the arm a couple of times.

“It’s only there when the occasion warrants it,” I replied with a smile.

“So, you’re coming to sit with us at lunch, right?”

I looked around, we had made it to the dining hall and Blaise was subtlety guiding the two of us toward the table that Draco and Pansy were seated at.

“No, I’m not,” I firmly stated, halting any more of Blaise’s progress. “I already told you that I made plans to sit with a friend, and I’m not going to back out on those plans.”

“Fine then; have it your way,” Blaise said, shrugging before walking away.

I stood on my tiptoes, craning my neck in hopes of finding Gareth.

“Looking for someone?” I heard someone whisper in my right ear, tickling the outer shell.

I turned with a beatific smile. “Gareth! You made it!”

“Of course I did. I’m not going to stand you up. What kind of person do you take me for, Ginny?” he asked, giving me a lopsided grin.

“Are you ready?”

“Hopefully, we can find a place to sit.”

I waved him off with my hand. “Don’t be silly. I have no doubts that we can.”

We eventually found a table near the back of the hall. We were the only occupants when we first arrived at our table and, truthfully, I didn’t mind. I’m sure Gareth didn’t mind either, but we don’t really care about his opinion on this particular matter. What matters are my thoughts and, at the time, I was happy to be away from the Slytherins, even if it only was for an hour. And I liked Gareth. He’s charming, sweet, funny, and somewhat chivalrous. What was even better was that he really had an interest in who I am as a person.

We were alone for not even five minutes when the entire Slytherin gang walked up to us, slithered, really, and sat down in the empty seats without so much as a ‘hello’.

Draco reached over to my plate, grabbing a chip, placing it in his mouth and began to chew on it, making it seem as though I had no problem with this intrusion.

“We were beginning to get worried that you had left us for good,” Pansy began, pouting as she furrowed her eyebrows. “But then Blaise told us that you had made other plans.”

I glared at the previously mentioned boy, only causing him to shrug in indifference.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, becoming annoyed. I had expected to have a nice, peaceful lunch with Gareth. I didn’t want to spend the entirety of my school year glued to the Slytherins.

“We thought we would join you for lunch,” Tracey drawled.

Woah, wait. I glanced at the table’s occupants. Okay, there was me and Gareth; Draco, Blaise, and Pansy; and Theo, Tracey, and Daphne. What the shit were the last three doing there?

“Is it absolutely necessary that you all sit with me?” I snapped, irate.

“Ginny, it’s okay. If your friends want to sit with us, they can,” Gareth soothed me, flashing me a dimpled smile.

I sighed, more like a huff, but it was still the same motion. “Fine. They can stay, but only if they behave,” I said through gritted teeth.

Merlin, was this what marriage was going to be like? Gareth and I practically talked to each other like some old married couple who were just embarrassed by their friends, or prevented from shagging each other’s brains out by their kid who got scared of some thunderstorm. It was like I was the short-tempered, deprived wife and he was the level-headed husband. Oh my god. We were like my mum and dad.

And that just about ruined anything I might have saw in whatever relationship I wanted to have with Gareth.

Not that I have anything against my parents and their love for one another, that’s just not what I want in a relationship with whoever I choose to be my significant other. That’s also the reason why I broke it off with Harry after the war. He wanted a Weasley family of his own, and marrying into it was not going to suffice. No, he wanted the seven kids, the lopsided house, the garden; he wanted it all. Unfortunately for him, I was not going to be the one to provide him with that. I do not want the seven kids and I do not want the lopsided house; although, I will admit that I do want the garden. Plus, I lost my infatuation with him. He was never there in the time that we dated. In my book, that does not help a relationship at all. If we had spent more time together before he decided to run off and save the world, then okay, I would have waited. But the truth of the matter is that we never really put any effort into wanting to be together. It was like our relationship was just convenient at the moment that he asked me out. I didn’t want the rest of my life to be based on convenience.

But, back to the story.

“So, Ginny, introduce us to your friend,” Pansy prodded, scooting closer to Gareth.

“This is Gareth van der Eems. He’s in my Advanced Arithmancy class.”

Gareth, in turn, received a smattering of hellos and head nods in acknowledgement of his presence.

“So, Gareth, is it?” Tracey began. “What is it that you are here for?”

“My major is Economics and I’m minoring in Wizarding Governments.”

“Oh, that’s interesting; if you’re into that sort of thing,” Daphne replied, her voice faltering almost every other word.

“Yeah, well, that would be the point of me choosing those two subjects as my point of study.”

Daphne squeaked once she realized how obvious her previous statement was.

“Awkward,” Blaise sang under his breath, through gritted teeth.

“Not as awkward as what you did before dinner,” I sang back, a charming smile plastered on my face. I was going to get back Blaise for not respecting my decision over something as stupid as not sitting with him at dinner if it was the last thing I did.

“And what did our darling Blaise do, Ginny?” Pansy asked, no longer blatantly staring at an increasingly uncomfortable Gareth, but turning to Blaise with a raised eyebrow and a smirk – the classic Slytherin facial combination.

Blaise’s face became panic-stricken before he glared at me. “It’s nothing,” he replied icily, knowing what I was doing. “Ginny’s just being silly; maybe she’s one to exaggerate.”

I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest, leaning back into my chair. “You wish I was given to hyperbolize.”

“Aw, come on, Blaise; I’m sure it isn’t that bad,” Theo prompted, gesturing with his hands.

“Pansy, Draco, do you guys remember that really drunken night we had during seventh year at the Manor?”

“The one where we played truth or dare?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay, so what about it? If I recall, we all did some pretty stupid things that night,” Draco said, shrugging.

“Do you remember the last dare Pansy gave me?”

Pansy and Draco’s eyes widened in unison as they finally understood just what Blaise and I were referring to in that moment.

“You didn’t,” Pansy breathed in shock.

“It was a dare again,” Blaise whimpered, almost disgusted with himself.

Draco began laughing at the melodrama Blaise and Pansy had created. “Mate, don’t blame Ginny for this; you were the one that even agreed to go through with it.” He looked over to me. “It was funny, wasn’t it?” he asked with a smile.

“I really can’t believe he was better than me at it. I told him he had way too much time on his hands as a child,” I replied with a smirk.

“The scary part is that I had just as much time on my hands as he did growing up. Just think; I could’ve ended up like him.”

It was then that I started laughing in earnest. All I could picture was a mini-Draco with his platinum blond hair slicked back in his prim couture dress robes strutting around his room while miniature versions of Pansy and Blaise laughed until their little stomachs hurt. Soon enough my own stomach began to hurt with the mental picture I had created. Draco’s eyes lit up as he understood what I was laughing about.

I leaned in to Draco’s ear, cupping my hand over my mouth so the others couldn’t make out what I was about to whisper. “And Blaise isn’t gay?”

He let out a bark of laughter, looking down as he did so. “Ah, no, he’s not. Trust me. Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t believe him after his little display earlier, so he said to ask you.”

“If Draco and Ginny are done being nauseatingly cute and secretive, I think it’s time we make our exit,” Blaise announced, causing me to blush.

All the Slytherins rose as one, heading back in the direction in which they had come.

“I’ll see you later?” Draco asked me, trailing behind his friends.

I nodded, still blushing. One would think I liked the blond boy. That would be a ‘no’.

I looked over the Gareth to see him wearing a look of puzzlement. “Well, that was interesting.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You have no idea.”




A/N - Thanks for reading! Please review! =D

A/N- Thanks to Eugenia for the beta! Also, thanks to my friends, Lisa and Paulina, for their enthusiasm and suggestions regarding this fic.

Remember, any and all quotes from novels I have in here are not mine. I do not claim them to be mine. They are cited, and are not used for the purpose of making money.



Theories on How Danger Finds Us – Chapter 6


“‘Do you know how long a year takes when it’s going away?’ Dunbar repeated to Clevinger. ‘This long.’ He snapped his fingers.” (Catch-22, Heller, pg. 39)

That’s what my first week felt like at the Lufkin School. Every day whizzed by me in a rush, coagulating to form one gigantic blur; just a flurry of papers, reading assignments and incredibly interesting meals with the Slytherins.

The Slytherins. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, they were becoming my second family, easing the transition into university life. During that first week, I had no time to slow down. Everything was non-stop and, for once, I agreed with Dunbar from Catch-22: “‘Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it’s to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?’ ‘I do,’ Dunbar told him. ‘Why?’ Clevinger asked. ‘What else is there?’” (Catch-22, Heller, pg. 39) And really, what else is there in life? All throughout we long to speed up time, if only to get to the next day, to be that one day older. But do we actually want that? When there are so many who are taken away from this world so early on in life, do we still treasure the blink of time? Although I may hate it at the time, I grow to treasure each infinitesimal moment, safe with the knowledge that I’m building a long life.

Now right now, you may be crying out for what exactly happened during the rest of my first week. ‘Why stop the narration after Gareth’s first encounter with the Slytherins?’ and all that. Truthfully, though, there really isn’t much to tell. But, because I am feeling particularly charitable as of this moment, I shall give you a brief synopsis of the events that transpired.

After the Slytherins left Gareth and myself to our own devices, our lunch was pretty boring. It was filled with awkward silences and general non-sarcastic conversation. I sighed in frustration at the end of our meal, rather unsatisfied with how stilted the conversation became.

We chatted about inconsequential things – the weather, our alma maters and our families.

It was strange because when I asked Gareth about his family, he shut up, giving monosyllabic responses to any questions I asked.

By the end of it my eyebrows were furrowed in confusion; Gareth’s family had secrets and I made a mental note to do some on the side research. What could possibly be so awful that a person wouldn’t want to talk about their own family? I mean, sure; I may get upset at my family’s actions from time to time, but I’m always more than happy to tell others stories of their shenanigans. Gareth’s unwillingness seemed a bit murky, if you ask me.

Not long after that, Pansy stopped by our table asking me what my next class was. Here’s the great thing about university life: I only has one more class that day, English Composition. I didn’t have my literature class until the next morning.

It’s a beautiful thing.

And, as I said before, the rest of the school week passed by in a blur. It was filled with stress, work, Slytherins, and I believe I mentioned it already, but some more stress.

Which is why, pleading artistic license, I am skipping to my first weekend at the Lufkin School.

If you recall the first day of classes, Pansy had made it perfectly clear as to what I was to be doing that first weekend: shopping with her. And I don’t mean a simple trip to Madame Malkin’s for a pair of nice robes or two. When Pansy says “shopping”, the term morphs into a country-hopping adventure. “Shopping” turned out to be trips to Paris, Milan, and New York, accompanied by Draco and Blaise to get a “male’s opinion”. I cried bullshit at this juncture, but Pansy simply waved me off with a laugh, insisting that I would grow to treasure their respective opinions.

I snorted, earning a glare from Pansy and no reaction from the boys. Like always, they were off in their own little world, where Draco and Blaise were the benevolent rulers.

So now that you have been sufficiently caught up, I give you the next scene in that weekend’s shopping escapade.

“Alright, Ginny! Come on out!” Pansy yelled from the other side of the silk curtain, huddled on a plush maroon sofa in between Blaise and Draco.

“In defence of my self-image, I refuse to take one step out of this dressing room!” I yelled back, reaching behind me to attempt to take the dress off.

“Do we have to have another Chloé repeat?” Pansy asked archly. I shuddered, reliving the moment. The last time I had refused to walk out of a dressing room, claiming mortal embarrassment, was at Chloé and Pansy had decided to fling open the curtain, revealing me topless (and by “topless”, I mean sans bra for “in order to get the full effect of the backless dress, one cannot wear a bra.” Pansy’s words, not mine) and in the process of taking off a dress that upset my at times conservative sensibilities. Oh, I forgot to mention that Draco and Blaise were behind her, as were half of the store’s patrons. Needless to say, I still ended up mortally embarrassed and had walked out the store with that particular dress in hand at Pansy’s “insistence”. “No,” I muttered, letting my hands drop to my sides.

I cautiously stepped out of the dressing room and, Draco and Blaise, the considerate gentlemen that they are, waited a good thirty seconds before they burst out laughing.

Pansy turned pink at the height of her cheekbones, running over to push me back into the dressing room with an, “I am so sorry, Ginny.”

As I took off the dress, I could hear Draco and Blaise talking to Pansy in between bouts of laughter.

“Didn’t we tell you that the dress wouldn’t work? Her hips are too big; that dress only exaggerates them.” That was Draco.

“She doesn’t have your frame, Pansy. She’s thin, but not angular, like you are. Besides, I think Balenciaga might be a little too daring for Ginny’s tastes. It works for you, but not for her. And I hate to say it, but this may be the first time I’ve ever disagreed with one of your fashion suggestions,” was Blaise’s addition.

“Okay,” Pansy replied, the pout evident in her voice. “I’ll make a mental note: no Balenciaga for Ginny. Happy?”

“Yes. Very,” I replied, walking out of the dressing room, relieved to not be purchasing the dress, even if it did have a really cool design pattern. “Although, I wouldn’t rule out this particular designer altogether; there were some other pieces that I liked.” I smiled, hoping to cheer Pansy up.

“Okay, so I’ll revise that mental note to remind myself to never outfit you with a dress of that nature.”

“Exactly.”

Pansy paid for the purchases and we continued on down the block to Christian Dior.

The first thing I spy in the storefront is this glorious creamy silk concoction resting on one of the mannequins. The mannequin’s jet black hair is done up in a mass of folds and curls with a headdress, in the form of silver chopsticks, jutted out of the back of the style, lines of delicate, jewelled flowers dangles, glowing in the halogen light. The bodice was asymmetrical, folding every seven centimetres or so, sticking out at different lengths before folding down. The skirt followed the same symmetrical pattern seen in the bodice, folding at odd intervals, before rippling out into a train made of tulle just below the thigh. The bodice and part of the skirt were also embroidered with flowers of various sizes, the outline of it all glimmering like the headdress.

“Done looking at the wedding dress, Ginny?” Pansy asked somewhere to the right of me.

“That’s a wedding dress?” I exclaimed, my eyes growing as wide as saucers.

“Yes. Are you done? We came here to buy you clothes,” the brunette replied airily, moving away to look at a handbag display.

“Are you serious?” I asked even louder than last time. I still couldn’t fathom that it was a wedding dress. I began to walk around to the back of the dress to gawk at the train, marvelling at the artistry and craftsmanship that went into creating the dress.

Pansy stomped over to where I stood, pulling me away. “Come on, missy; we have work to do. Besides, that dress is a season or two old. You don’t want that.”

“Um, Pansy, two things: one, I don’t give a flying fuck about the fact that the dress is a couple of seasons old; and two, I would be honoured to be able to wear that at my own wedding.”

Before Pansy had a chance to reply, Blaise cut her off as he began laughing next to an increasingly irritated Draco.

“You better be thinking about what you’re going to say next, Zabini, or else I’m going to Avada your arse right here, right now,” Draco said, glaring at his best friend.

Of course, now I know why Draco became upset at that moment, but at the time that he said it, I was blissfully unaware.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous, the pair of you. Come, Ginny; you have things to try on.”

“Do I have to?” I whinged, slumping my shoulders in defeat.

“Don’t you want to have a fabulous wardrobe?” my roommate queried, dumping a heap of clothing into my outstretched arms.

“Not particularly,” I replied honestly.

“Tough shit, princess,” Pansy stated, forcing me into a nearby dressing room.

“Now don’t come out of there unless you’re wearing something amazing!”

For the next hour and a half, I was at the mercy of Pansy, Draco and Blaise’s judgement. About thirty minutes in, though, a charming, petite shop assistant joined the panel. It seemed she had taken pity on me and alternated between bubbling with laughter after a humorous comment, or bursting out in rapid fire French anytime she approved of a particular look.

Seeing as I’m not as proficient in French as I would like to be, I can only assume that she was saying complimentary things.

And, in an effort to alleviate my boredom, I decided that there was no time like the present (metaphorically speaking) to live out my globe-trotting model fantasies and, with each wardrobe change, I exited the dressing room, striking a pose that I felt best suited what I was wearing.

What started out as a way to amuse myself became an all-out circus as Draco decided to play the role of my headstrong, volatile French photographer, who loved to bark out his directions and occasionally stormed off, arms flailing, yelling obscenities in perfect French any time I did something not suited to his tastes. Blaise, meanwhile, joined me as the stereotypical, idiotic male model, trying to outdo my already caricatured actions, forcing Draco to storm off even more to prevent himself from laughing.

We eventually made it out of the shop, laughing hysterically, as the shop assistant (who I found out is named Emmanuelle) waved at us from behind the glass front door.

“I’ve always had fun shopping, but Merlin; I’ve never enjoyed myself that much before,” Pansy wheezed, wiping a tear from her lower lid. “Between your and Blaise’s vanity battle and Draco’s irate French photographer, I didn’t know what to do with myself. That was really a bit of genius, Ginny; really it was,” Pansy continued, turning towards me with a grin.

“Why, thank you, darling,” I replied, making a grand show of bowing. “So is it time to go home? It’s getting rather late.” I probably sounded desperate, but I had done enough shopping in one Saturday to last me a lifetime.

Pansy’s mouth formed into a truly devious smirk before she replied. “Oh, no, Ginny; we are far from done. Unlike my other shopping trips, we’re building you an entirely new wardrobe from scratch. We haven’t even gone to New York yet. Not to mention Milan.”

“Are you serious? I thought that London and Paris were enough.”

“You’ll come to learn that, as far as Pansy is concerned, what you have now is never enough,” Draco stated as Pansy smiled knowingly.

“So are we going to New York now?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course we are!” Pansy exclaimed, grabbing a hold of my arm. “And tomorrow, you can wear one of your new outfits.”

And with that, we Apparated, landing in the middle of a richly decorated sitting room, Draco and Blaise literally popping in right after us.

I did a circle of the room, taking in the opulence of it all before turning to the three Slytherins. “This place is incredibly tacky.”

“Finally! Somebody who agrees with me!” Blaise announced, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Who’s flat is this? If we’re even in a flat,” I asked as I plopped down into one of the high-backed chairs.

“It’s my mum’s. One of her husbands used to live here, and when he ‘died of natural causes’, all of his properties went to her,” Blaise explained, complete with air quotes. “She’s always wanted to change the decor, but she apparently never has the time. My mum likes to be hands-on when it comes to decorating all of our properties.”

“I think it’s rather nice,” Pansy countered, running a hand down the length of the chair’s arm.

“You only say that because this is the way your house looks. You’ve lived in this for nineteen years,” Blaise said, sitting down on the couch across from me and Pansy.

“What can I say? Maybe I like gaudy when it comes to home décor,” the brunette replied with a shrug.

“I’m sorry if I offended anyone; I’m just really used to my own home. There’s homemade everything there. Not to mention the amount of items passed down through generations,” I said, growing rather uncomfortable.

“Oh, don’t apologize for your opinion, darling,” Pansy told me, patting my forearm in a matronly manner.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, coming back from the kitchen with a tumbler of firewhisky in his hand.

“Probably close to midnight here, if not later,” Blaise answered, squinting at a clock on the other side of the room.

“And that’s my cue to go to bed,” I announced, rising from the chair.

“I can show you to your room,” Draco supplied, moving to my side. “Pansy and I already have established rooms here since we travel with Blaise so often.” I shrugged, not really caring about Draco’s explanation, just so long as I got a room with a nice bed in it.

The blond man next to me turned towards me with a wide smirk on his face. “Do you really like all of the clothing Pansy bought you?” he asked once he felt us to be out of earshot of Pansy and Blaise.

“Truthfully?”

He nodded.

“I actually like everything she bought for me. I thought I wasn’t, or that she was going to force me to buy things that I didn’t like, but she respected my opinions.”

“You even like ‘the Dress’?”

I let out a bark of laughter, pinking slightly as I thought about the moment. “After I got over my embarrassment and was forced to exit the dressing room with the thing fully on, I admitted to myself that Pansy does know what she is talking about. I think what initially made me refuse to walk in public with it on was that I had never worn anything like it before. It might still take some getting used to, but I do genuinely like it,” I answered with a smile.

“I thought you looked great in it,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Oh, thank you.” I blushed even more; my pink cheeks turned tomato red from the simple compliment.

We stopped right outside of the door to what I presumed was my room. As Draco went to open the door for me, I turned to face him, tilting my head so it rested against the wall, crossing me arms over my chest, studying him. “Why are you so nice to me now?” I blurted out, causing him to stop just before he turned the door knob.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he replied, furrowing his eyebrows as he considered my question.

I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until my bum hit the carpeted floor with a dull ‘thump’. I padded a space to the right of me, just in front of Draco’s feet. “Come, Draco; you and I are going to have a little chat.”

He slid down to where my hand was, pulling his knees up to rest his elbows on as I yanked my hand away from underneath his bum.

“What is it with you and needing to talk with me at all hours of night, Weasley?”

“Excuse me?” I spat, affronted.

“Sorry. I regress back to my Hogwarts demeanour when red-headed chits keep me up past my bedtime. Not to mention the fact that I’m drinking,” he replied, smirking as he raised his tumbler in salute before downing the rest of its contents.

“Forget I even asked,” I said, using my hands to press me up off the floor. I rose to stand, but Draco latched on to my right wrist, yanking me down next to him once more.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m down here already, which means that I’m not budging for quite a while. It seems that you are stuck listening to me ramble.”

“Must you be so forceful?” I asked, lifting my sore bum to rub it in hopes of alleviating the throbbing sensation I was experiencing.

“Only when you are involved, my darling Ginevra,” he replied, flashing me a winning grin.

I slid down a bit further, so I was nearly hunched over, and then rested my head on Draco’s shoulder.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked nervously, looking down at me.

I waved a hand in front of my face, trying to get rid of the stench of alcohol his breath had left.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist; I figure I’m going to be here a while. I might as well be comfortable, and you’re as close to a pillow as I’m going to get at this juncture, so shut up and start talking,” I commanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

About two minutes passed and Draco had yet to begin speaking; just a series of broken syllables and audible mouth openings and closings.

“Sometime before I fall asleep would be fantastic,” I drawled, earning a stinging slap on one of my legs from Draco. “Ow! That hurt!”

“As it should; but, I’ll try to get through this rather quickly.”

“Thank Merlin.”

“Says the girl who decides to have a heart-to-heart at one o’clock in the morning.”

“You know, the more we argue, the more time we waste. Time that could be spent --”

“Sleeping.”

“I was going to say ‘talking’, but ‘sleeping’ works, too.”

Draco huffed, leaning his head against the wall in an attempt to make himself comfortable.

“I think my behaviour now was greatly influenced by my sixth and seventh years. Many of not only my actions, but my parents’ actions were done so we wouldn’t die. After my father’s brief stint in Azkaban, Voldemort was mightily displeased with him and decided to use me as a means for my family to get back into his good graces. So when I was first assigned the task of killing Dumbledore, I was genuinely excited. I sure as shit didn’t feel up to dying at sixteen, and my family was borderline desperate for a break after the Department of Mysteries debacle.

The further into the year, though, I began to have doubts about my allegiances; my parents did, too. I knew I couldn’t kill Dumbledore; I was just fooling myself. I think I stuck with my delusions for so long because I didn’t have a choice, and again, I didn’t want to die.

When I didn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort was furious with me, of course, but for some reason, he let me live. I have no clue why, but the bastard let me live. Knowing him, he probably kept me and my family around because he enjoyed watching us squirm. Due to those two years, though, I grew up pretty quickly since old, petty school rivalries seemed rather insignificant when compared to the constant threat of being killed.”

“So, what does that have to do with you being nice to me?” I asked, yawning.

“Are you serious? Did you not hear that last sentence? Merlin, read between the lines, woman!” Draco huffed, exasperated with my cheekiness, slapping me on the arm.

“I was only joking, you git. And what’s with the slapping? Is that, like, a kink of yours, or something?” I replied, closing my eyes.

He snorted. “You wish that was a kink of mine.”

“Oh, so you do have kinks?”

“I said no such thing! And stop smirking; it doesn’t fit you.”

“How did you --”

“I’m a Slytherin; we can distinguish smirks based on tone of voice and inflection. Are you going to sleep?”

“Yes. I thought that was blatantly obvious.”

“Yes, but I figured that you would go inside your room and lay down on the bed since, you know, that’s what it’s there for.”

“Aw, but you’re so comfortable.”

“You’re not moving are you?”

“Nah; I’m too lazy to get up.”

“Well, I’m too lazy to carry your arse into your bedroom, so it seems as though I am stuck.”

“You know that you’re secretly excited about this.”

“Oh, let me tell you,” Draco deadpanned.

All conversation ceased soon after, for it seemed that Draco had resigned himself to his situation, and had tried to fall asleep with my head on his shoulder.

Just as I was about to truly doze off, I heard a voice above me.

My ears perked up a bit, keying in on what they were saying.

“Oh, dear sweet Merlin. I think I’m going to be sick. Please excuse me while I go throw up somewhere.” That was Blaise.

“Wait; why would you be --? Oh.” That was Pansy.

“I’m suffering from sugar shock."

“I think it’s kinda cute.”

“My point exactly.”

“Oh, stop making such a big deal; you’re starting to sound like her brother, Ron. Besides, they aren’t even into each other that way. They were probably talking and fell asleep. It is rather late.”

“Since when have you become the voice of reason here? That’s Draco’s job, for the most part.”

“Ever since you decided to act like the Weasel King.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be calling him that?”

“Oh, you know what I mean, git.”

“You know you love me.”

“Begrudgingly.”

“Should we wake them?”

“Nah; you know how Draco is when his beauty sleep is interrupted. And I’m not too sure how Ginny would react if we woke her, so they’re going to have to suffer on the floor.”

“They’re going to kill us.”

“Not unless one of them kills the other first.” I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation as they walked down the hallway to their respective rooms.

Snuggling next to Draco a bit, I let my breathing even out, finally falling asleep.



A/N- And yes, the Dior dress that Ginny describes is an actual dress. One of my faves actually. Probably doesn't work with the timeline, but I couldn't help myself. Here's what the dress looks like:

link

. Modeled by the wonderful Shalom Harlow.

A/N- I know that I haven't updated this story in a really long time, and I am so sorry. I've been super busy with the last round of the D/G Fic Exchange on Live Journal; my latest fic, Through a Long and Sleepless Night; as well as school related stuff. This is the shortest chapter to date, I think, but I plan on making the future chapters a lot longer. I just felt that it wasn't necessary to make this chapter incredibly long. Enjoy!



Theories on How Danger Finds Us – Chapter 7


I awoke the next morning rather – how shall I put this? – abruptly.

There was no soft, gentle nudging of my person, no whispered demand for me to wake, just my right ear becoming very familiar with luxuriously carpeted floor in all of about five seconds.

And it hurt. A lot. It was like I had gotten my ears boxed, but the feeling was only present in my right ear -- that awkward, stinging, ringing pain of a vortex of air rushing to my ear drum. Not to mention the fact that the entire right side of my upper body was now cursing my stubborn, insolent ways as my head bounced off of said carpet and my shoulder collided with the floor. For although I had landed on carpet, rather than solid wood, there’s only so much padding carpet can provide. So, keeping that thought in mind, I was ready and willing to bring swift and painful retribution to whoever decided to make me suffer.

“Fucking hell!” I shouted once the pain on the right side of my body had been reduced to nothing more but a low throb.

Still lying on the floor, I looked up, expecting to find my Draco-sized pillow, only to find my pillow looming over me, eyes widened in shock, before morphing to an expression of absolute disgust. So much for Blaise’s theory of Draco being “in love” with me.

“What the hell were you thinking last night, Weasley?”

“Oh, so it’s back to ‘Weasley’ now, is it? Whatever happened to ‘Ginny’ and ‘being nice’ to me?”

“The crick in my neck and my sore bum are speaking for me right now,” he replied, leaning his head to the side, massaging his neck with his right hand.

“Aw, poor little Malfoy didn’t get his beauty sleep. However is he going to be able to face the world now? Should we warn the media that there’s a slight chance of you looking positively hideous today, or should I hold the press release?”

“Your cheek is very unattractive, Weasley.”

“Good thing I’m not attracted to you then – I have nothing to worry about.”

“All in good time, Weasley. All in good time,” Draco replied with a knowing smirk.

“And when I still remain out of your fan club, don’t be surprised when I say, ‘I told you so’.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Weasley dear. How could you not appreciate what I have?”

“But, Malfoy darling, you have nothing to appreciate,” I retorted with a guileless smile, stepping into my room and closing the door before Draco got his bit in. I love getting in the last word.

I was still smiling as I leaned against the door, replaying the last few minutes over again in my mind, before I began laughing at how easy talking to Draco was. It was banter, sure, but it just seemed to flow so easily from him, from all of the Slytherins I encountered thus far at the Lufkin School.

A knock on the door prevented anymore thoughts from trailing off further in that particular thread.

“Ginny. It’s Pansy. We’re going to leave in an hour or two, so make sure that you’re ready.”

I opened the door to find Pansy leaning back after having her face pressed against the door to ensure that I heard her. “How did you know that I was awake?”

“Blaise and I can hear Draco grumbling about you in his room. I say we might leave in an hour or two because at this rate, Draco might be sulking in his room for quite a bit. He always likes to get in the last word. Blaise and I are amused as all hell because it’s wonderful knowing that someone beat Draco to it. So thank you for making my morning that much brighter,” she finished with a smile.

“You all have a very strange relationship,” I announced in incredulity.

“I guess you could say that. We just show affection in a very different manner, is all. When we poke fun at each other, we do it out of love. Slytherins aren’t all that great at mushy displays of affection. We may try, but there’s always some point when we cock it all up.”

“I suppose I should get used to this then.”

“It doesn’t hurt. We try to act as such around non-Slytherins, but, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we don’t take a shine to those who aren’t in the Slytherin House. So you should consider yourself lucky. You’ve got three Slytherins who enjoy your company. I was right to call you an anomaly earlier; I think that’s the highest amount of Slytherins anyone outside of my house has ever befriended, if that made any sense,” Pansy finished shaking her head slightly.

“Oh, no; it did. I understand what you mean. I’m still rather perplexed as to how it came to this, but I’m not upset. It’s a nice change of pace from the people I’m used to associating with.” I added a smile just in case Pansy still questioned my response, and she seemed satisfied enough, returning my smile.

“I’ll leave you to go get ready. We’re all meeting in the sitting room when we’re done. And, again, maybe in an hour or so, depending on Princess Draco’s mood. I think Blaise is calming him down, so he shouldn’t be all that surly the next time you see him.”

Pansy turned to leave, but there was something about Draco that was nagging at me. I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering if I should ask the brunette about it.

“Pansy?” I might as well get on with it then, I thought. Otherwise, I’d be thinking about it for Merlin knows how long, and it’d just bug the ever-loving shit out of me until I talked about it with someone, and Pansy was right there, and she’s a good listener, and I’ll just shut up now. Sorry. On with some actual dialogue.

She turned around at the threshold to my room, placing a hand on the doorframe. “Yeah, Ginny?”

“I – I wanted to ask you something. Something about Draco.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.” She began to walk towards me, closing the door behind her.

“I’m probably going to sound really silly for asking this, but Draco’s changed a lot since he graduated, hasn’t he?”

Pansy snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You just noticed? Of course he has.”

“Oh, I know that. I guess I just, I don’t know. It’s strange because I feel like he mellows out around you and Blaise, but when I’m there it’s a slow revert back to the Draco I’m used to. And what’s even stranger is that I kind of like the ‘old’ Draco more.”

“Well, of course you would. It’s habit. You know how to respond. He’s confusing you, and you don’t like it.”

“But why then?”

“I’m sure he’s not doing on purpose. I don’t think he would purposefully confuse you unless you royally pissed him off. You haven’t done that, have you?”

I shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“Then I don’t really know what to tell you. I guess you’ll just have to warm up to the idea of him not being a total wanker.” I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off with a hand. “No. No protesting. You’ll be fine. He’s just a boy. Don’t try to gain his acceptance. If he doesn’t like you, then it’s his loss.”

“Why have you accepted me so easily then?”

“Two reasons. One, I’m going to be living with you for the next year. It would be stupid of me not to. And two, I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

“That’s very Gryffindor of you,” I replied, rather shocked at her honest response.

“Yes, well, don’t tell the others. I would hate to hear what they had to say on the subject.”

“Of course. My lips are sealed,” I assured her.

She gave me a brief smile, turning around to head back towards the door.

“I’ll see you in an hour, Ginny.”

“Yes. An hour. I’ll be ready.”

Pansy closed the door behind her, pressing a hand against the smooth wooden surface as though she didn’t want the sound to bother me.

I turned to walk toward the heap of bags waiting near the small desk in the room, but my bed looked so tempting at that moment, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend another day scouring a city I had never been to, playing guinea pig to Pansy’s fashion whimsy. Her gesture was generous and, once I stopped worrying about it so much, greatly appreciated, but considering the fact that I spent the entire night sleeping on the floor, a bed would have felt heavenly in that moment.

My eyes flicked back to the pristinely made bed, my body just itching to plop down on it, messing it up.

I took a step in the direction of the bed when I heard a sharp knock on the door.

“Don’t even think about crawling into that bed, Weasley! If I have to suffer, then you do, too!”

My eyebrows furrowed as I took a step back. Draco?

“Draco?” I voiced aloud. “How did you know that I was planning on crawling into bed?”

“Because you’re predicable. And Pansy just harped on me for it,” he replied on the other side of the door. “So get your arse in the shower before I sic Pansy on you.”

I huffed, plopping down on the bed out of spite, even though Draco wasn’t there to see it.

“Stop being childish, Weasley. I’m serious about getting Pansy. I know you’re on that bed right now.”

How is he doing all of this? I mentally shrieked, furrowing my eyebrows even more.

Not wanting to take my chances with the wrath of Pansy, I hopped off the bed, walking over to the bathroom.

It seemed like Draco realized that I was heading towards the bathroom for once I entered, his comments stopped.

I hopped into the shower, washing my hair and body as the steam enveloped the entire bathroom, fogging the glass surrounding me and the mirror right next to me.

Satisfied, I turned off the water, stepping out into the sauna I had created, grabbing a towel lying on the counter next to me.

About ten minutes later, I opened the door to the bathroom, letting the steam seep into my room. I made to go to the heaps of bags near the wardrobe, when I noticed an outfit already laid out for me on my bed, probably by Pansy. Who am I kidding? Of course it was picked out for me by Pansy.

She had laid out a pair of two-toned tights by Chanel, an almost knee-length black dress by Fendi, a shrunken trench coat by Stella McCartney, and black heels by Miu Miu. All the black made me feel like I was going to a funeral, but Pansy is and was more knowledgeable than I am when it comes to how to dress, so I grabbed a pair of underwear and proceeded to put on the designer duds.

I also saw a note on my bed, and picked it up, recognizing my roommate’s handwriting.

Ginny,

Come find me after you have your clothing on so I can do your hair and makeup. No complaints, lest you feel like being manhandled by either Draco or Blaise.

As to your outfit, I know I told you that I would like to see you in colour, but I also know that you and I had spoken about how you already don’t wear a lot of colour and figured that your outfit was my version of baby steps. I hope you like it.

- Pansy

I sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

I slipped my feet into the shoes, walking (rather tentatively, mind you. I really didn’t wear heels that often) over to the full length mirror propped next to the wardrobe. I gave myself the once over, assessing that which Pansy had picked out for me.

It was strange.

I thought for certain that I wouldn’t feel comfortable in what Pansy insisted she purchase for me. I guess I was under the impression that the designer tag meant that it wouldn’t be comfortable, or that it wouldn’t suit what little style I had, but I was wrong. What I had on then looked like something I would wear, only it was cut better and fit my body better.

I turned, doing the requisite bum check; ensuring that my arse did not in all actuality look enormous in the dress that I was wearing. I bounced on my toes, noting how fabulous my calves and, subsequently, the rest of my legs looked by doing the simple movement in heels. I smiled, slowly nodding my head appreciatively.

I snuck a peek at the door, smirking when I saw that it was closed. I puckered my lips and placed a hand on my hip, jutting my hips out like the models splattered all over the pages of Witch Weekly and Page Six of the Daily Prophet’s gossip pages.

“I hope you realize how ridiculous you look right now.”

I gasped, looking up at the mirror’s reflection.

I huffed at the intrusion, turning around to face him. “I was joking around, Malfoy. It was meant to look ridiculous. And, besides, I would like to think that you’ve heard of knocking. It’s very impolite to just barge into someone else’s room without their permission.”

He pushed himself away from the door frame with his shoulder before knocking on the now open door. Two sharp raps against the white wood.

“There. I knocked. Happy now?”

“Cheeky bastard.” I spun back around to look at the mirror once more, nodding in satisfaction. “What are you even doing here?” I asked, talking to Draco’s reflection. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Or was Pansy wrong when she mentioned last week how much of a girl you are when it comes to getting ready?”

He huffed, walking toward me. “I’m loathe to admit how right Pansy is, but given the fact that I only had an hour, I rushed through my normal routine.”

I pouted, stiffening slightly as he stood behind me. “You poor baby. However did you manage? And you never answered my first question.”

He raised an eyebrow, the motion leaving as quickly as it came. “Yes, well, if you read Pansy’s note, then you would know that either Blaise or myself were to drag you to her room so she could tame your hair and make an attempt to make you look attractive.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, gripping it and pulling it back toward him slightly. “I sincerely hope that I’m not going to have to manhandle you.”

I glanced down at the hand digging into my shoulder. “I would think that you would be into to something like that.” My voice was low and, for a moment, I was afraid that he would drag me to Pansy’s room whether I wanted him to or not.

He gave it another squeeze before letting go and replying. “No, Weasley. I’m not; at least not with you. Besides, I would hate to ruin such lovely wrapping paper.”

My breath hitched and I looked up in the mirror to see that he was gone.

“I will never understand him,” I announced with sigh, leaning my forehead onto the mirror.

After a few moments, I stood back, giving myself another quick looksie. With a resolute nod, I left the room in search of Pansy’s, steeling myself for the upcoming day.




A/N- Thanks for reading! Please review. :D

A/N- Well, I finished this chapter faster than I thought I would! :D Like chapter 7, this is just a chapter that moves the action along, so chapter 9 (and maybe chapter 10) will be more action-packed.



Theories on How Danger Finds Us – Chapter 8



So. Before I go any further in my tale, I feel like I must give another warning.

To this day, even as a write this out, I have no clue how everything got to the point that it did over my first year at university. One thing seemed to lead to another and suddenly everything went out of control and – I just don’t seem to comprehend how it got to the point that it did, but for the purposes of this story, one must understand that things began to move very quickly for me once I got back from my shopping trip with Pansy and the boys.

And by “things”, I don’t mean things to do with my studies. I mean how things progressed with my social life.

I might skip around in this particular timeline from now on, so try your best to keep up.

I don’t intend to confuse anyone; I simply want to write about what happened to the best of my knowledge if only to get some piece of mind as to why everything that did happen happened. I think, at this point, I’ve talked to just about everyone involved in the hopes of sorting it all out and I would include some of their perspectives, but it’s not my story to tell. What seem to be the only things I am sure of are how I acted over the course of these events and my thoughts on each and every event. Because of this, though, my recount of everything is obviously going to be biased to my personal opinions on the matters, but oh well. As an English major, I’m compelled to write. It’s my preferred way of recounting my memories and, well, I’d like to think that I’m damn good at what I do. (Although, I’m curious to hear thoughts that feel otherwise. Draco doesn’t like to critique me because I think he’s under the impression that I’d wail on him if he gave me a bad critique. This may or may not be true.)

Anyways, I’m just going to say that I’m skipping over my adventure in New York because I’ve already told you all about one of my shopping adventures with Pansy and, honestly, that day wasn’t all that interesting. Trust me. I’ve contemplated adding it, but it seemed like one of those times that wasn’t necessary for me to discuss because nothing exciting happened. Nothing else happened between me and Draco (and I bet you all thought that something else was going to happen. Didn’t you? Just wait) and Pansy got all testy because she didn’t find anything to her liking. Plus, Blaise happened to be particularly cheerful and snarky on that day, which does not bode well when Pansy’s having a bitch fit.

What I will do, though, instead of recounting each and every event throughout the school year is to go ahead and get to the good parts. I mean, I detailed the first two days pretty well and I gave enough information about my first shopping excursion with Pansy, so I figure that I’m entitled to share the parts that I think readers will find the most interesting.

Example: Gareth asking me out on a date.

I feel like a lot of stories’ protagonists have that first date, or that first experience, with someone who’s totally incompatible with them before they get with that person who just works so well for them that they can’t comprehend how or why it didn’t happen before. I mean, Elizabeth Bennet had George Wickham before she found true love with Mr. Darcy. Eliza Doolittle had Freddy Eynsford Hill before Professor Higgings (I’m still not entirely sure what happens between those two. My opinion since childhood has been that they live happily ever after. And I’m sticking to it). And Rebeca Buendia had Pietro Crespi before she realized that he was a pansy and ran off with Jose Arcadio (the fact that he calls her “little sister” squicks me out a bit, I must admit). And I’m sure you all have figured out that I very quickly see the err of my ways, drop Gareth like a hot potato, and end up with Draco (Spoiler alert! Although I have a feeling that I’ve been dropping his name so much that two and two had to have been put together).

But, more to the point, about two weeks after New York, Gareth decided to ask me out on a date.

I think, by then, I had acknowledged the fact that I found Draco somewhat attractive. That small part of me that was all, “No, Ginny, you can’t. He’s a Malfoy and by that property alone, he’s icky,” was slowly becoming silenced by the part of me that thought he had a nice arse and that he really did grow into his pointy features a bit and, hmm; he can be nice when occasion calls for it.

But when Gareth asked me out, I was still in that stage where I thought Gareth was so dreamy, but then Draco was starting to enter that stage and, oh! Whatever was my feeble mind supposed to do when surrounded by so much hotness? No sarcasm involved there. I was honestly a bit perplexed as to how I should feel considering my contemplation of my feelings toward either guy.

I’m pretty sure that I ended up making a pros and cons list of both Draco’s and Gareth’s attributes late one night in the middle of the year instead of working on homework. I’ve searched for it, if only to get a laugh, but alas. It seems to be lost to time or in some waste basket somewhere. I don’t know.

Gareth asked me out as soon as our Arithmancy class was over those two weeks later. We decided to make a habit of sitting near each other since he was better at writing down the lightning fast dictation from our professor and I was better at understanding what was going on, so we liked to study for tests together in either my dorm or his. We’d gotten to know each other pretty well over that short amount of time and what started off as a simple attraction turned into full-on infatuation. And although I may have lost interest early on due to the fact that we bickered like my mum and dad on some occasions, Gareth has more redeeming qualities to his personality and it was those qualities that won me over.

He turned to me as I started to pack up my things at the end of class, with me standing and him still seated in his chair.

“Um, Ginny, can I ask you something?”

I stuffed by notebook into my bag before sitting back down. “Sure,” I replied with a smile. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?”

I laughed nervously, biting the nail of my right thumb. I can be such a dork when a guy asks me out.

I sighed, chuckling again, probably looking like I had a screw or two loose before replying. “Um, that sounds great. What day did you have in mind?”

“How about Saturday?”

“You mean, tomorrow?”

“Yeah. That,” Gareth replied sheepishly.

“Well, I don’t have any plans, so tomorrow sounds perfect.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up around 11:30 in the morning. So be ready.” He smiled.

I laughed again. “Why so early?”

He gave me a cryptic smile; a smirk, really. “Oh, you’ll see.”

We walked out of class together, and I gave him a hug before I headed for my European Magical History class.

Once Gareth was far enough away, I was immediately accosted by Blaise and Draco, identical grins on their face like they were the cats that got their respective canary.

“Aw, our ickkle Ginny’s got herself a date,” Blaise cooed, pinching my cheek.

I slapped his hand away and punched him on the arm for good measure. “Shut up! It’s really no big deal.”

“Oh, but it is!” he replied, his grin becoming wider, if that was even possible. “This is your first big date outside of Hogwarts. And, I must admit, it’s a very good thing that you have Draco and I.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

“I would think that the answer would be quite obvious, Ginny dear,” chirped in Draco. He had gotten over being mad at me over making him sleep on the floor in New York about 2 days ago and was back to using my nickname. I swear; he’s more of a girl that I am. “You’re so lucky to have us because we can help you not screw this up.”

I snorted. “Lemme guess? Is this the part where you guys turn a pumpkin into a beautiful coach and you turn a torn and tattered dress of mine into a beautiful ball gown?”

Draco put an arm around my shoulder before replying. “Ginny. Love. Do you honestly think that Blaise and I would do something that pig-headed for a first date?”

I glanced over to Blaise and then back at Draco. “Yes.”

Blaise burst out laughing, as Draco turned to glare at him. “I don’t see how you could find that funny, Blaise. You do realize that she’s insulting you as well.”

Blaise took a couple of deep breaths, composing himself. “Of course, you berk, but come on. Please tell me that you don’t find the imagery she just conjured up to be hysterical.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just imagine it: she’s Cinderella and we’re the fairy godmother, or godmothers, in this case.”

Draco took his free hand and slid his palm down his face, starting at his forehead.

“I swear, I will never be able to understand how your twisted mind works, Blaise,” I uttered, shaking my head slightly.

“Yes, well, enough about that. Back to the topic at hand: your first date.”

“You guys act as though I’ve never dated before. I have had boyfriends, you know.”

“Yes, and all of them were monumental failures. Thomas: has yet to get over you and still won’t speak to you after you broke up with his jealousy-prone arse. Corner: last I heard, he’s decided to bat for the other team, if you know what I mean. Oh, and lest I forget Potter: the saviour of the world is now shacking up with none other than the former resident slag of the Gryffindor house, Lavender Brown. We’re here as a form of insurance,” Blaise stated, ticking off each of my failed relationships on the fingers of his right hand.

“Did you really have to remind me about that last one?” I asked with a cringe.

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it,” he replied with a sagely nod.

“Thank you, Dumbledore,” I shot back.

“What? It’s true. You need to accept the fact that Potter decided to run off with a skank after you broke up with him. It’s nothing on you that he decided to do that. We know that it was kind of tough to break up with him, but by repressing that moment, you’re not doing yourself any good when you finally decide to think about it.” Blaise paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “And how did you know that Dumbledore said that?”

“I haven’t really talked to Harry all that much since the break up since he got royally ticked off when I broke up with him. He’s with Lavender because he’s making up for the lack of physical contact that he got with me. I don’t like to talk about it because you’re right; it was tough for me to break it off with someone that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. And I know that Dumbledore said it because Harry’s tried to talk to me, and he’s rather fond of using that line on me. I’ve already felt enough pain having to deal with the constant threat of losing him and leaving him; I’m done with that part of my life.”

“And you see, Ginny,” Draco began, picking up the conversation as he began to lead me away from our classroom, “we don’t want you to go through that with what’s-his-face.”

“Gareth, Draco. Gareth,” I provided.

“Right. Gareth. Anyways, Blaise, Pansy and I have become quite fond of your presence in our little circle and we know how you are when you’re around this Gareth – you get all giggly and you blush a lot. Keeping those thoughts in mind, we decided to assist you with this whole dating business since we consider ourselves quite astute in the art of dating.”

“We’re not serial daters, or anything like that,” Blaise continued, “but we’ve had enough relationships that we decided to combine our collective experiences to form some theories on how to successfully date.”

“Right,” I drawled, looking back and forth between the two men. “Are you two sure that you aren’t Psychology majors?”

“Well, I’m the Psych major, but you know that Blaise isn’t,” Draco replied, raising a hand.

“Trivial details,” I stated with a wave of my hand.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. I could tell that he was beginning to get annoyed with my unwillingness to cooperate. I bit back a laugh when he did it for annoying the ever loving shite out of him has to be one of my favourite pastimes. Next to scandalizing Ron, that is. Poor boy gets worked up anytime I wear heels, for Merlin’s sake. I can only pray that he does not end up with girls when he and Hermione decide to settle down and have children. But knowing my brother’s luck, that exact thing’ll happen.

Blaise noticed Draco’s on-coming tirade and decided to talk some sense into me. “Ginny, we’re not looking to harm whatever relationship that you might have with Gareth. We know how much you’ve grown to like him. All we ask is that you let us assist you every once in a while as you start to go on dates with Gareth.”

“Are you pouting?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

Blaise quickly got rid of the pout and doe eye look he was sporting to try to win me over. “What? No. No, never. Pfft. Like that ever works.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. “But, to save my own sanity and to prevent any further pestering by the three of you, I’ll allow you to assist me.”

“Excellent choice, Ginny. Just wait until Pansy hears,” Draco drawled as he and Blaise walked with me to my history class.

The next day, Pansy had me up bright and early to prepare me for my date. She had to very nearly drag me out of bed to get my tired and lazy arse into the shower, but I eventually took a shower as she laid out my outfit for that day.

I walked out of my bathroom, one towel wrapped around my body, another around my hair, toothbrush dangling out of my mouth, sort of eager to see what Pansy picked out for me.

It was mid-autumn-ish, so she picked out a burgundy coat with a cloth belt around the waist in the same colour as the coat; a grey, long sleeved, v-neck shirt; black, straight-legged jeans; and ballet flats in a shade of red that was a bit lighter than the coat. She also laid out a pair of black gloves that stopped just past my wrists in case my hands got cold.

I liked her choices and smiled as best I could with a toothbrush in my mouth, and she smiled back before shooing me back into the bathroom to finish my morning routine.

About an hour later, I was primped within an inch of my life and drilled by Draco and Blaise as to how I should conduct myself while on my date with Gareth.

“Guys like Gareth seem to notice when a girl is being fake. So honesty and sincerity is probably going to be the best policy with him; pardon the cliché. Also, don’t worry too much about keeping your inner nerd under wraps.” Blaise paused as I glared at him. “What? We’ve noticed that he finds it cute and, to a lesser extent, endearing.”

“Oh,” I replied with a pleased smile.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Everyone’s ears perked up and I bolted straight for the door. I took a deep breath and opened it, revealing Gareth, a huge smile lighting up his face.

“I’m not early, am I?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I leaned back and glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “Nope. Not at all. Do you want to come in?”

“Um, actually, Ginny, I was kind of hoping that we could head on out? If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, no! Of course I don’t mind. I’ll just say good-bye to everyone.”

I gave quick hugs to everyone as Gareth said his hellos to Blaise, Draco, and Pansy. Back at the door, he grabbed my hand and led me into the middle of the hallway, rummaging through his coat pocket.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a laugh.

“I’m looking for the Portkey. It should be active momentarily. Ah-hah!” he announced in triumph, pulling out a small souvenir flag for, as I soon learned, Austria. “Grab a hold, Ginny. It should be activating in a couple of seconds.”

I reached out and grabbed a small corner of the flag. As soon as my fingers touched the cloth, I felt the tugging sensation at my navel that signalled my departure from the hallway outside of my room.

We landed a few seconds later -- Gareth, on his feet, me, slightly sprawled out on the sidewalk that we landed on. I told you I was god awful at landing when travelling by Portkey. He helped me to my feet and I looked around, for I was surely not in England anymore.

“Gareth, where are we?”

“Ginny, welcome to my home land. Welcome to Austria.”



A/N- Thanks for reading! Please review. :) Oh! And the line that Blaise says about "numbing the pain" is an actual line that Dumbledore says from the HP books. I haven't been able to look up which one, though, since I don't have my copies of the books here at school with me. But just know that that line is JKR's line and not mine.