Dearest Draco,
Before I admit to anything I may regret later on, I would like to state that this is not the first letter in which I drafted to write to you. Also, the penmanship has been altered with a few spells, so tracing me back to whom I really am will be harder than you think, Mr. Malfoy. Now let's move onto a point.

I like you. No, please, do scratch that. It sounds so cliché and so juvenile as opposed to, say: my heart beats in rhythm with those abrasive steps in which you take, pounding your shoes against the cold hard ground with a distinction anyone with a brain would heart.
Now I would say neither of those, one is overused and the other is deeply frightening, even though I thought it up. In any case, it would be best just to announce that Merlin intended my heart to beat for you and thus it has begun to. Does that sound a bit superficial? I thought so as well, but I don't have the time to redraft this letter again and again until I find it has no flaws.

This could, perhaps, be the most pointless letter I have ever had the misfortune of writing. But I found holding my feelings within is bad for me mentally and emotionally, thus the reason of creating this letter. And if it sounds thought out, that's because it is, Mr. Malfoy. I like you and there's simply nothing more I can do about it. You're not the type of guy who would date a girl like myself, so whenever I feel the need to tell you something, you'll be getting a note similar to this. Also, tracing the owl in which delivered this is of no use either. It switches quite frequently, the owl, and often has a pass off point.

No, I'm not a Slytherin. But yes, I am crafty enough to come up with some of the more intricate ways of sending a note, unlike the sad, pathetic girls who make it known they are them. Obviously, Mr. Malfoy, I am not them. Don't make it a point to try and confuse me with them. Until next I write, Draco.


Sincerely,
Pepper Kisses


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When Ginny read her letter and reread it for what seemed like the hundredth time, she bit her lip and folded the piece of parchment. Why she had gone and written her heart down on and had the confidence to send it to Draco Malfoy was beyond her. They were of two different worlds, she had no business liking him, and yet she did. It was a sad realization when she found out too, it was just last week during study hall. Innocently looking around the room, her eyes traveled towards the Slytherin's and when they locked with Draco's, who seemed to be glaring back at her with a fierce vengeance, Ginny just saw something that she liked. It was tragic as well, because later than night and early the next morning, she confirmed her feelings. Thus beginning a small attraction that was increasing into a larger one. It was also a problem, a big problem.

So now she sat in the middle of her bed, the curtains drawn and the curtain behind her open. The moonlight showed Ginny what she had written, the words gleaming in the moonlight and flickering like a candle as her hands slightly shook with anxiety. This was bold, daring, something in which she had never done before. Ginevra Weasley had proof that Merlin did curse the poor. For what poor soul would act upon their feelings towards Draco Malfoy? Obviously, only Ginny Weasley. Then again, this wouldn't be something new, liking a dark wizard and all. What about Tom Riddle? He had attracted her with his words, treated her like a princess and caused a small affection for him to grow. And then he crushed it like a bug, shattering her heart and yet mending it all at the same time, the oxymoronic relationship that had never been. Ginny knew she was a weird one, but how she had gotten over Tom and moved onto Harry with impeccable timing was quite humorous and full of naïve vibes.

Grabbing her wand off of the night table, Ginny grabbed a parchment from one of the various drawers as well. Unlike the girl's in which threw themselves at Draco after such notes like this, she wanted a back-up, she wanted to keep herself covered. So waving her wand over the note and muttering a copy spell under her breath, she flicked her wand at the second piece of parchment and looked at it carefully. In what way was she going to alter the handwriting? Seeing that the first note was written in her penmanship and she was keeping the hard copy, the second had to have a number of spells put on it. Some in which she extracted from Hermione earlier in the week, saying it was for her History of Magic class. Ginny used a lame excuse that they were tracing handwriting all the way back to the caveman-wizard days, that had gotten a wide eyed Hermione and a number of spells written down for her. Instructions and all.

Crafty enough to be a Slytherin? No doubt. But Ginny had kept the Weasley spirit alive in the house of Gryffindor and was quite like her brothers, backing up her tracks and making sure not to get caught. Fred and George, or Gred and Forge, had taught her well. And with Hermione's information, Ginny placed a couple more spells upon the parchment and instead of the neat cursive, the writing had become small block letters. It was neat and precise, much like a professor's. That had been her intention, of course, even if she didn't want to admit it. It would be much more interesting to see Draco Malfoy confront a professor about the note, seeing how well written it was. This had come from years of writing notes to Harry in which she never delivered, years of hiding away from the boy-who-lived because she was scared of rejection. And yet, Ginny felt she could take it from Draco. What a switch.

With one last survey of the note, the redhead smiled to herself and placed both of them in the drawer of her dresser, placing a locking charm on them immediately. Ginny couldn't quite handle all of Hogwarts knowing that the only Weasley without a Y chromosome had taken a liking for her one and only mortal enemy. That wouldn't bode well with the crowd, especially her brother.


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Scanning the hall with those steel gray eyes of his, Draco Malfoy had become immune to the incessant gossiping of morning. In fact, he was equally surprised with himself of having gotten up this morning. The want and need to stay in bed had almost won and would have if a certain friend of his would have stepped out of the matter and let him be. Sadly, Blaise Zabini could not do that. Oh no, the dark skinned boy came in and jumped on him, not too gracefully either. Blaise called it excitement for a new year and fresh sheets to dirty up with bodily fluids. Definitely not an appealing thought to a Malfoy so early in the morning, it would have given him nightmares to go back to sleep. So he didn't.

Now he only waited for the morning post. Draco's mother was supposed to be sending him the robes in which the house elves had forgotten to pack, to expensive ones for formal balls at Hogwarts. It wasn't that bad, seeing that they could be replaced and all, but Draco had liked those robes. Those robes had gotten Theodore Nott's sister into bed after the summer ball his parent threw, thank Merlin that Theodore didn't find out. Or perhaps it was the silencing charm on the room that suppressed her female moans, the perfection of music being made. So he looked towards the windows one last time and saw a speck, a tiny speck that grew and grew, and more specks began to appear. This was when he stopped squinting because he knew it was the morning periodicals and letters and whatnot.

When an owl swooped by and dropped the package into Draco's lap, a smirk appeared on his lips. The typical Malfoy smirk, his one and only trademark, something in which no other person could duplicate or make look half as good as himself. And yet, he found that when a letter dropped on top of the package, that smirk faded away. Had his mother sent a letter to go along with the package? Draco dismissed it for the moment and prodded the package, feeling the box light in weight. It was definitely his robes. Now for the letter.

The envelope was quite intriguing, very unique. It was parchment colored and the front said: Mr. Draco Malfoy. It was quite formal and he knew that wasn't his mother's handwriting, her was neat and curly and girlish, this looked quite manly. Perhaps it was the sign of the Dark Lord's minions, all in which he didn't even want to hear about this year, let alone get notes from. When Draco flipped the note around to open it from the back, a golden symbol held the flap to the page. It was a family symbol, or at least had been created to look like such. He didn't recognize it and would most likely find it to be of some useless diversion to Ministry officials and whatnot. He still; however, used what little care he had in his persona to open the envelope.

The letter had even been neatly folded, professional and definitely nothing he'd seen before, or would even recognize. Draco had a small questioning fear if the Death Eaters were getting smarter and learning how to disguise their letters, or if this was just from someone completely different. And it greatly annoyed him to no end when he opened the letter and saw the same block style handwriting and what looked like a formal letter. He didn't need this, it was too early to get death threats if he didn't join the Death Eaters. And yet, like everything else this morning, Draco was taken by surprise at the actual content of the message.

Someone liked him? Someone who had great taste, wouldn't be right for his image (or so he thought), and someone who knew a slew of big words and fancy phrases. Also, someone who wasn't a Slytherin. This morning had just grown increasingly stranger by the minute. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't the girl just come right out and say, "Draco Malfoy, I fancy you! Let's shag." Oh no, the bloody girl had to be secretive about it. Merlin, if anything about this dame was appealing, it better have been her looks. He wasn't about to tolerate Pepper Kisses and random notes in which he took no joy in receiving. And yet, it was quite the ego boost to know that she had some sort of fear in revealing herself to him. Maybe it was pride and maybe it was arrogance, but either way, they fell under the same category: The Draco Malfoy Syndrome.