Chapter 1: The Never Ending Story and its Tragic End

Ginny sneezed violently---again!--into her sleeve as a cloud of dust rose with about half a century's worth of Weasley heirlooms. Attic duty was the worst chore imaginable, and so, naturally, she had been assigned the job. Well, technically it had been Ron, but since he was, quote "not feeling up to it", and more up to sneaking off to snog Hermione, Ginny was left to the miserable task.

"It bloody well better be the best, if not only, snog of his life," she muttered as she sorted through the pile of old albums, robes, and decapitated insects. Then, rethinking that statement as a mental image of Ron and Hermione entangled in a passionate kiss flashed before her eyes, she shook her head violently to clear her mind. She levitated the clothes and sent them all into a trunk in the corner of the room with a swish of her wand, and turned her focus to another shabby looking heap on her left.

That was when the trunk into which she'd hastily stuffed her mother's old junk gave a lurch, and fell over onto its side, spewing the remnants of her last hour's hard work. Ginny cursed and crawled over to inspect the pile of rubbish.

That was when, between a crust doily and an old sock she discovered it, an old, tattered book, withered with age, golden-plated letters curling about its age-worn leather cover. Softly, she blew the dust away that caked its outer exterior, and squinted to make out its title.

'Pride and Prejudice'.

It was barely legible in the dim light of her wand, and the ages it had spent beneath her old relative's knickers probably hadn't done it much good. She was about to fold all of the clothes away-again-and begin on that pile she'd left sitting in the corner, when the book flung itself at her, smacking her dead in the forehead, and sending her backwards onto her bum.

"Why you-" she began, but the book had landed squarely in her lap, its pages open to the center.

And the book was blank.

Ginny stared down at the empty pages for a moment, dumbstruck and speechless, and then she remembered what came of books that moved on their own and had blank, intimidating pages. She slammed the book shut and hurled it at the wall, for cautionary measures. Then she levitated it over to the trunk, dropped it on the bottom with a soft 'clunk', and piled the other knickknacks atop it, closing and locking the trunk in one swift motion.

Satisfied, she turned and fled the attic, shaking slightly as she went.
*
Mrs. Weasley stood by her sink, humming contentedly to herself along with one of her favorite witch albums as she cut carrots into the stew she was preparing. She could see the sun shining, a bright jewel against a piercing blue, cloudless sky, through the kitchen window. "Today," she whispered to herself happily, "is a perfect day."

Mr. Weasley looked up at her from the report he was reading, and raised an eyebrow in concern. "You all right, dear?" he asked timidly, and Mrs. Weasley nodded mutely, staring off into space with a dreamy, peaceful expression glowing on her soft features. Figuring she had finally lost her marbles, Arthur Weasley shrugged unconcernedly and returned to his report.

Then Ginny ran into the kitchen, arms flailing wildly as she began ranting madly about an old book that had hit her. This time Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked genuinely concerned, as their youngest child and only daughter began raving about an evil book that had apparently attacked her in hopes of possessing her soul and forcing her into doing the evil Dark Lord's bidding.

"Ginny," Mr. Weasley said quietly, "shut up." She shut up automatically. "Now, go on from the beginning," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to go on.

Ginny took a deep breath and said, at a mile per minute, "WhilecleaninguptheatticthisbookcameatmeandtriedtodecappitatemesoIslammeditinatrunckandrandownhe-"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head furiously and waved her wand, cutting off Ginny's voice. Ginny finally stopped moving her mouth and looked at both of them hopefully. Mrs. Weasley removed the curse, and said in as pleasant a voice she could muster after having her perfect afternoon shattered by an assault of quick mouthing by her daughter, "Now start at the beginning. Slowly."

Ginny took and even deeper breath and began, once more, to describe for them the evil book lurking in their attic. "We should tell Dumbledore the Dark Lord s trying to reach me again," she finished, looking quite shaken, but her mother interrupted.

"You said the book was Pride and Prejudice?" she asked, somewhat eagerly. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded dumbly, taken aback at he mother's unusual spray of useless questions.

"My favorite book! You found it!" Mrs. Weasley cried, hugging Ginny close and squealing in delight, something she most definitely never would have done. "I never dreamed this moment would actually come!" she cried, stepping back from Ginny and clasping her hands together excitedly. "Really, it is a dream come true!"

Ginny stared back at her beaming mother, hardly daring to believe that the despicable book in question and her mom's "long lost dream" were one and the same. Then Mr. Weasley reappeared, having disappeared amidst Mrs. Weasley's outward display of affection. In his hand was the book, title-side facing Ginny, golden letters glittering maliciously.

"Looking for this?" he asked, handing it over to his wife with a puzzled look on his face.

Mrs. Weasley handed it over to Ginny, looking absolutely ecstatic. "Now it's yours dear," she said enthusiastically. "Bet you can't wait to get started reading it."

Ginny looked down at the book in her hands, and then up at her mother. Seeing that smile radiating off of her mother like stink off Ron's gym socks, she began to think that her whole family was one grape short of a fruit salad.

Chapter 2: 'Down the Rabbit Hole' or 'What the Bloody Hell Am I Doing in a Corset?!'

Ginny took a quick shower, to rid herself of that afternoon's stink, pulled on an old Cannon's jersey and some striped, flannel bottoms. Staring at the book atop her bed, she began pacing the room. 'To read, or not to read...that is the...oh, heck, whatever!' She plopped down on her bed and opened the book to the title page.

Blank, again. She furiously flung the soggy towel from around her neck into a heap on her dresser. Then golden ink began to seep into the pages and spring up into crisp, swirling font.

Ginny squinted and tried to make out the words. Slowly, a message began to form: 'If you can read this, you're too close.' Ginny, puzzled, held the book arm's length away from herself. 'That's much better now,' the book wrote. She grimaced and waited for a new message to appear.

'Patience, Miss Ginevra,' the book inked slowly, and she grunted in response, as the book typed out an even longer message. Ginny sat the book in her lap, since her arms were tired, and began to read the latest entry.

If fun and games is what you seek
This is the wrong book, so to speak
But if you've longed for something more
Adventure, romance, and peril for sure
You've come to the right book
Where it's yours to decide
For everyone discovers different stories inside
Turn the page for a story you're bound to adore
(Or one that you're bound to dislike, I'm not sure)

Ginny felt her eyes go wide and her body begin to tremble and glow as the book flew out of her lap and perched in midair, spinning quickly as light burst forth from its seams. Her vision went blurry as she squinted in the light, her eyes tearing and her mind going numb.

*

Wham! She was sitting on a hard, expensive, Victorian couch. She sat up, rubbed her neck and back, and looked around. She was at the burrow, only...it wasn't the burrow. There was a soft fire in the fireplace, but the mantle was painted a soft ivory, and above it hung a fine painting that must have been worth more that she was.

There were flowers everywhere, and lace, and fancy furniture she could only have dreamed up. Ginny stood up from the couch and felt faint. Looking down she saw she was wearing soft slippers, draped in her long, deep emerald skirt, meeting at her empire dress waist, underneath her chest, which ordinarily would have appeared flat, if not for the...corset! She did collapse back onto the couch, the room spinning madly beneath her and around her.

The bun atop her head had a million pins and barrettes digging into her scalp. She felt bile rising in her throat. 'Where am I? Who am I? Why the hell am I wearing a bloody corset?!' She asked herself theses mad questions over and over again as the pain finally subsided and she took a deep breath.

Then all hell broke loose.

Four girls shuffled into the room, a flurry of dresses and ribbons and hair and handkerchiefs. Ginny sat up off the couch and stared dumbly back at...

Hermione...Luna...The Patil Twins?! They were here, too, and they seemed not the slightest bit disgruntled by their current, dire situation. Hermione was radiant in her soft lavender dress with real lavender flowers tucked into her chestnut ringlets. Luna was adorned in more of a pale blue, with her hair pulled back in a more severe bun at the nape of her neck. The Patil Twins stood between them, dressed in complete opposite colors but identical garb. Soft pink and light yellow, with their sleek, dark hair done up in an intricate style, with tiny rosebuds. Ginny felt she might choke up her spleen for gagging open-mouthed at her Hogwarts friends.

Finally, the four girls sat down beside Ginny on the couch, Luna, having buried her nose in a rather dull looking book and Parvati and Padma talking and giggling animatedly beside her. Hermione was the most beautiful of them all, and she leaned over to whisper in Ginny's ear, "Well, she's gone and done it. I expect he'll be here within the half hour."

Ginny was puzzled. Hermione gave her a comforting squeeze in the shoulder. "You know, Mr. Billius. Mum actually invited him over for a luncheon this afternoon." Ginny felt even more puzzled, but Hermione continued to beam down at her.

Ginny didn't know anyone named Billius, save Ron, her brother, but that was his middle name, and she couldn't imagine just why he would have to be invited to his own house. Just then, her father entered the room, wearing old English garb, and Ginny had a sudden coughing fit to cover up her sudden sniggering attack.

Mr. Weasley didn't look at all offended, let alone, aware of Ginny, and said in a most dignified manner. "Mr. Billius has arrived." Stepping in over the threshold, looking handsome for once in his life, was her brother, Ronald Billius Weasley, and Ginny felt she just might die at seeing him in his current attire.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he began with a courteous bow. "I am Ronald Billius, pleased to make your acquaintance." In a most undignified manner, Ginny slipped off the couch with a loud chuckle. The whole room turned to stare.

Ginny picked herself back up off of the floor and plopped herself back down on the couch with as much dignity as she could muster, smiling half-heartedly while fighting the heat rising in her face, while everyone else fidgeted uncomfortably around her, obviously as embarrassed as she.

Ronald, though slightly flustered, managed a small chuckle, as his face turned a deep red. Hermione, not wanting to ruin the afternoon, picked up on his chuckle and laughed graciously, sending them all into graceful laughter. Ginny finally joined in, feeling less awkward when she was being laughed with, and not at. Soon the laughter settled and they all turned their attention back to Mr. Billius.

He was glancing at his pocket watch, looking slightly upset. "I really must be going, I'm afraid. I spent a majority of this afternoon chatting with Mr. Weasley, and now I've gone and kept my realtor waiting. I'm purchasing the land right alongside yours. It really is a rather cozy spot. I hope to see you all at tonight's ball. I've heard it's in town, and I'm sure I don't want to miss the chance to fraternize with my new neighbors." He smiled at them then, his gaze lingering on Hermione, who was looking up at him dreamily.

'Was that a wink?' Ginny thought, as Ronald and Hermione gazed another moment at one another. Inwardly, Ginny felt she was gagging. Then, Mr. Billius had vanished into thin air--Apparated. Gone. Hermione gave a small, wistful sigh. Ginny gave a deep sigh of relief.

Luna still hadn't looked up from her book, and now the twins were discussing Mr. Billius' appearance and charm, among other things that caused Luna and Hermione to blush, but Ginny to giggle at.

Then Mr. Weasley smiled, oblivious to the sisters' conversation, and left the room, muttering about horses. Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, looking flustered and practically on the verge of tears.

"Did he come? Did I miss him? Oh, heavens above, if I did miss him I shall die right on the spot! How on earth did that stupid maid keep me waiting this long?! Oh-"

"Sorry, mumma," Ginny said softly, not in the least bit sincere, "but he just left." Mrs. Weasley gave a big, shuddering sob, and collapsed into a chair. It was Ginny's turn to feel flustered. What on earth had happened to her mother?

"It appears Ginny might have scared him off-"

"With her big mouth-"

"And even bigger bum!-"

Parvati and Padma were rattling off, finishing each other's sentences. Hermione, sensing that their "helpful inputs" would do their mother's condition no good, quickly added, "But he's attending the ball tonight, and I think he may be bringing with him some of his friends."

"I didn't hear him say that," Luna said sharply, surprising Ginny, who was beginning to think the girl mute. "How would you know?"

Hermione blushed, but said nothing. Mrs. Weasley sat up and asked hopefully, "Friends, did you say? Do you suppose them to be rich?-"

"And handsome," Parvati added.

"And don't forget single," Padma piped in.

"Oooh, marvelous," Mrs. Weasley cried.

"I suppose you would think so," Luna said dully, flipping a page in her book.

"Oh, heavens, it’s getting late! We must be getting ready!"

"But, mumma, the ball's not for another four-" Hermione tried to protest.

"Perfect! We're already running late, then! Girls, up to your rooms, and get your best dresses!" Mrs. Weasley had gone from grieving mother to commander and chief.

"Ayay, captain," Ginny saluted, and then blushed under her sisters' stares.

"Well, then, ladies," Mrs. Weasley beamed, "let us prepare for a ball!"

Chapter 2: Dances With Wolves

If Ginny had been conscious, she probably would have thought that the best thing so far in her twisted, eighteenth century adventure was her new bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out, and the corset thing in addition to about a hundred other annoying and disturbing discoveries didn’t seem so bad.

Then something hit her. She sat up and rubbed her forehead. It was that bloody book again. She glared at it as it flipped to another blank page. Her brain registered that something was about to happen, but due to her current sleepy state the realization struck about five seconds too late. For the second time that day there was a blinding flash, and then two figures appeared before her, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Sis.”

“Salutations, cheerio, and all that sort of stuff, huh?”

Ginny just stared at the two of them.

“Well, Fred, I do believe she’s speechless,” said George.

“Must be the outfits. Eighteenth century garb really can do wonders for your figure,” replied Fred.

“Thanks, mate. Though the tights can be a bit of a drawback.”

“Yeh, I’ll bet it takes me a week to pull them out from up my-“

“I HATE YOU!” Ginny lunged at the nearest twin, George, and began pulling on his hair. Fred tried to pull her off him while George cursed loudly in pain. Finally Ginny was off of her brother and George was rubbing his scalp.

“Bloody Bogart, Gin, it was only a bit of fun,” he complained.

Ginny tried to wriggle out of Fred’s grip. “Fun?! FUN?! You think it’s fun being strapped in a corset and dumped into some trashy novel where men where tights and Luna is actually sane for once?! And have you seen Ron?!”

“Speaking of Ron,” Fred said, casually,” he’s the reason we began turning literary art into prank novels. He doesn’t remember it well, but he had this kiddy book about the itsy bitsy spider.”

“Yeh, and all he remembers is one minute playing with his Teddy-“ Cut in George, very much over his near scalping

“And the next there was this enormous spider and-“

“Well, Mum and Dad caught us,” George said, disappointed.

“That was our first official testing of the product, and, if you couldn’t tell, it didn’t go so well.” Fred scratched his neck.

“But it’s a laugh to sneak in to Ron’s room at night and sing the spider song,” George grinned.

“Yeh,” Fred agreed, patting his brother on the back and releasing Ginny completely. “You should hear him scream.”

Ginny looked somewhat settled down but still crimson in the face and very much angry. “Shut up and tell me why you put me in this mess, then, why don’t you? Why not Ron?”

Fred put his arm around her in mock sympathy and extended the other one before him in an explanatory gesture. “Gin, can you imagine Ron in a corset?”

George chuckled. “Besides, it was enough that we got him into tights. Merlin, if only he knew how he looked.” Fred clapped his brother on the back and laughed along with him.

“You mean like you two? Only, I assure you, Ron’s Quidditch muscles just barely compensated for his girlish attire. You two, however, look like a couple of ugly drag queens.” Ginny crossed her arms and smirked as the twins stopped laughing and looked themselves over.

“That was deeply insulting,” Fred said in mock sorrow, dabbing at his eyes with a frilly handkerchief from his pocket. George patted him on the back and sniffed.

“You two idiots, get me out of here before I-“

“What?” George asked.

“Yeh, we haven’t exactly figured out what we’re doing,” Fred admitted sheepishly, and Ginny’s eyes bugged.

“This is more like a trial run, Gin,” George hastily added. “But we’re almost slightly certain it’s sort of safe, if that’s any assurance to you.”

Ginny grabbed both of them by their hair. “So I’m your lab rat?!” she screamed in to Fred’s ear. “You don’t even know what’s going to happen to me in here?!”

“Well, we’re following along with you as you go, but no one can see us unless we want to be seen-“ Fred said between cries of pain.

“And everyone we know is here with you, they just don’t know it.” George added.

“So they’re dreaming this?” Ginny asked.

“Yeh, sort of, but they won’t remember an of it afterwards. Only you.”

“And no one can leave until it’s at the end,” Fred concluded, and then rethought his explanation once he saw the look of pure loathing on his sister's face.

“Which is…when?” Ginny asked, beginning to panic.

“We’re not exactly sure,” George answered, earning an extra jerk of his hair.

“Only about twenty or more chapters to go,” Fred said sarcastically.

“You-“ Ginny began, but suddenly the twins were gone, and so was the book.

Ginny cried in frustration as suddenly Parvati burst into the room. “What are you waiting for? We’re about to go to the dance!” She grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her down the stairs.

“I’m not even ready yet,” Ginny protested as they entered the sitting room once again.

“You look beautiful,” Hermione said sincerely, though it was clear it was her who was the most charming.

“Yes, don’t be so selfish! Even if you aren’t, we are, so let’s go!” Padma whined, and they began their port-key trip into town, Luna mumbling and grumbling about how social gatherings were a waste of time and magic. Parvati elbowed her in the ribs and told her to shut up.

As they descended in front of a lively home, where music could be heard and laughing as well, Ginny felt her spirits rise. Then she remembered that somewhere Fred and George were watching with amusement, and she turned and made a very rude hand gesture to the empty space behind her, hoping the twins might see and think twice about putting her through this again.

Then quite suddenly two finely dressed men and one woman appeared before her, each clutching their own port-key. They stared in horror and surprise at her hostile greeting and she blushed deeper than she thought possible. She could have sworn she heard laughing and mentally, she cursed the twins.

Finally, she found her voice, and said as firmly as possible, “I...erm...I injured my finger while...traveling, and...umm...I’m j-just using a special...a special healing technique to...erm...soothe it-heheh...if you don’t mind,” and with as much dignity as she could muster she turned and joined her family in entering the dance, thinking darkly, Those two are dead...

********************
Ginny was not thrilled to notice that the three people she'd accidentally flipped off were Mr. Billius and his two guests, but she saw past that faster than she thought possible when she discovered just who Fred and George, the twits, had cast for the roles of Ron's friends.

Now, Pansy, she could take. After years of having boyfriend after boyfriend (well, the few boyfriends who'd gotten up the nerve to ask her despite the dangers of doing so) interrogated by Ron, Ginny figured he had it coming to him. Now that was the only thing worse than the time she'd walked in on Ron and Hermione during one super intense snog session. Ron and Pansy?! Ouch. And from across the room, Hermione seemed equally taken aback.

But Ron's other friend was far worse.

"I am going to kill those two," Ginny silently swore under her breath as Ron spotted her with her family and headed over to introduce them. She politely shook Pansy's hand, and gave Ron her best sorry-I-flipped-you-off-but-welcome-to-the-neighborhood-anyway smile.

However, once she was met with a rather pale looking hand to shake, she felt her face flush and her eyes narrow. Still, the hand remained before her for the shaking, and the smile remained fixed on that ferret face of his as he smirked down at her with eyes filled with malice.

Ron looked over at Ginny's resistant glare and said warmly, "Let me introduce you to my dearest friend, Mr. Draco Darcy."

Ginny sneered at the pale boy as he finally dropped his hand and gave her family, well, fictional family, the once-over. She turned to find the nearest hard surface she could bang her head on. Better yet, the twins' heads on.

But he caught her arm and whispered in her ear confidentially, "Look, I know you know about as much as I do about this twisted little fairytale, maybe more, and I'm about this close to losing it right here. I don't have time to parade around in tights and pretend Weasley's my best mate, so spill what you know so I can finish up here and go." Ginny found her eyes growing wider with each word he said.

"You know this isn't a dream?" she asked incredulously. 'And what the hell is with guys in tights? I hate to admit it, but Malfoy actually looks good in them. Very Peter-Pan-ish. Whoa. Cross that.' Ginny shook her head to clear her disturbing and frighteningly romantic-like thoughts.

"No, Weaslette, this is part of the script," he spat sarcastically. She gave him another perplexed look. "Of course I know! Merlin, I'm a Malfoy." Ginny snorted in disgust turned to leave, but he caught her arm again, tighter. "Look, I've read this book before." 'And about every other book in my library', he wanted to add. "Trust me, you won't like how this ends. The author is cruel and twisted."

"No, you are cruel and twisted," Ginny replied, trying to loosen his grip on her arm. He glared at her and let go. Seeing she might be losing a valuable ally, she quickly asked, "How does it end?"

Malfoy looked flustered, but quickly regained his composure. "You tell first. What do you know, Weasley?"

"I know I'm about this close to breaking your nose since you won't just call me Ginny," she said evenly. He waited for her to continue. "Look, there was a rhyme and...well the point is it was Fred and George. A prank of theirs, anyway, and we have to live out the rest of this book up until The End. So tell me, what is the ending?"

"It's a bit fuzzy to me," he said nonchalantly. "I read it a while back, but I remember that I may have stopped reading it at about the part where one of your sisters gets kidnapped by some guy named Wickham."

"Oh perfect, Mister Dilligent Reader. And who's that?!" Ginny asked.

"How the hell should I know?" he snapped. Then, seeing the venemous look on her face, quickly added,"It's someone we know from our daily lives, though."

"Oh, big help. I'll keep an eye out for someone who's male, takes advantage of women, and, oh yeah, just happens to be a close acquaintance."

"Shouldn't be hard, considering the scum in your social circle," Malfoy sneered.

"Actually, I figured your character might just be shady enough to do such a thing," she said heatedly, stabbing him in the chest accusingly with her (pointer) finger.

"Darcy?" he asked incredulously, his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm a good guy!" Ginny looked extrememly doubtful, but trusted him to know the story better than she. Heck, the last book she read had been a picture book while she was babystitting her nephews, Bill and Fleur's sons. Besides, she figured Draco-erm-Malfoy-no-Darcy (whatever!) was telling the truth.

And she knew he certainly was not staring at her face as he spoke just now. 'Ugh!' her inner voice gagged. That violated any form of reason in her mind and his, and Ginny took a step back, while realizing he had been caught staring at Weasley's newly acquired cleavage, Draco cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure.

"I think we've figured out as much as we could from one another. I'd appreciate it if now you would leave." Ginny said hastilly, turning scarlet, and scowled at him ferociously, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Malfoy coughed, and looked away for a moment, face coloring madly.

"Sure thing. Weaslette."

She directed all of her most hateful energy at his retreating figure. It was going to be a long night, and, for certain, an even longer novel.
******************

Ginny retuned to her family, and was immeadiately siezed by an overly-enthusiastic Hermione.

"That woman was his sister! And he asked to be the first to dance with me!" she squealed.

Ginny, rubbing her sore eardrum, merely muttered, "Well isn't that splendid, then?"

Hermione, failing to notice her sister's sarcasm, continued. "And one more thing. He said: 'Save the last dance for me'. Now, isn't that romantic," she swooned. Ginny smiled unconvincingly.

"Yeah, you show him how to get down and dirty on the dance floor, hon," she said as convincingly as she could, hoping that the phrase was so old it would have passed for cool and supportive back in eighteenth century hell. Hermione, sensing by now that her sister was just a little off her rocker, nodded dumbly but continued smiling.

"Um, sure!" She said, biting her lip to keep from squealing too loudly with joy. Ginny excused herself and sat down on the opposite side of the room, away from Hermione's mad case of hyper-puppy-love.

As she turned to speak to Luna, who was sitting in a corner nearby, reading some large and boring tome, Draco and Ron approached. They stood in front of her, Ron wringing his hands nervously and beaming with glee, Draco sneering at the crowd with a look of superiority and utter loathing. Fred and George could not have picked a more opposite pair. Of friends.

Ron turned to Draco with a look similar to Hermione's in that it was crazy, ecstatic, and hyped. "I'm about to dance with an angel! Would you just look at her, Darcy? She's the most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on!" He sighed fondly. "And I can only hope she feels the same way."

Draco looked as if about to tell Ron that under no circumstance would anyone ever think him the most "gorgeous creature", but held his tongue and said with casual distaste. "Well, at least you have the next few dances secured and they're with the prettiest girl in the room. Regardless of how poor and drab she may be."

Ginny was beginning to feel the desire to shove his twisted compliments up his arrogant--

"But, Darcy, what of her next sister? The one with the auburn hair? I thought her quite pretty, if not a bit odd. I saw you talking with her earlier, and figured you must have been getting reacquainted." Ron was looking still at Hermione but talking to Draco with such a sincere, dedicated, friendly sort of voice that Ginny felt for a moment she really could have hugged the brute. Though the fact he had just referred to his sister in a romantic demeanor was a little gaggy. "Come on," Ron teased. "You two looked like you really were enjoying the other's company for a moment there." He nudged Draco. "I saw you both blush."

Ginny felt herself blushing just then, and she could hear Draco nervously clearing his throat again. Ron laughed good-naturedly. Ginny realized that Draco did seem somewhat attracted to her, and the fact he seemed uncomfortable when she was mentioned really did excite her hopes. Well, not that she had any hope of him liking her. He was still a conceited, evil ferret. Who looked pretty darn good without the gelled back hair and black robes.

Then Draco had to go and kill her joy. "Red isn't my color, anyway. And besides, pretty as she is she could never tempt me. Not with such bad manners, low class, and poor taste in fashion." Ouch. "Spare me, please." Burn. Ginny wilted and deflated. "I came only to this ball for your support, not for my own love life." With that being said he chuckled darkly and began once again to mentally inspect and criticize each of the guests.

The song ended and Ron rushed across the floor to find Hermione. Ginny stood and moved past Draco with as much dignity as the situation called for. In other words, she smiled her most graceful smile and nodded curtly while "accidentally" brushing his shoulder with hers with enough force to bring down a full grown zebra.

But she wasn't too greatly offended. No, she'd known Malfoy for far too long, and though they'd shared a thoughtful moment earlier that evening, her instincts told her already that they might as well have named this book War and Peace and stamped their faces on the cover. Well, if you scratched out the Peace part.

She decided to remain good-natured about the whole thing, and think of it as a sort of...joke. Yes, he was conceited and totally ignorant when it came to socializing with members of their society, let alone members of their society's opposite sex. And she would make him pay.

Yes, not-so-eighteenth-century-style-revenge would be sweet.