It was nearly akin to a Hogwarts tradition.

Beginning around their fourth year or so, the students of Hogwarts would begin to notice a strange phenomenon. The strange behaviour would seem to begin with their closest friends, and then spread to the people in their dorms and across their Houses, and then finally it would come to their notice that everywhere, everyone in Hogwarts above the fourth year was acting a little differently. They themselves would not be spared. They would begin to notice things – people – differently, perhaps to their surprise or disgust.

It was the hormones.

You see, through their first, second and third years of school, intra-house unity went hand-in-hand with inter-house enmity. Blaise Zabini was an evil, no-good Slytherin and Hannah Abbott was a dull, giggly Hufflepuff; it was as simple as that.

Everything was clear and demarcated, and lines were not crossed.

And then – BAM! – in their fourth year that no-good Slytherin suddenly became Tall, Dark and Handsome and that dull, giggly Hufflepuff was now The Leggy Blonde.

Ginny Weasley, now entering her sixth year, was no stranger to the phenomenon, but she really didn’t see what the fuss was all about. It wasn’t that she didn’t have hormones; she just failed to see how people could suddenly become blind to everything else but looks. It couldn’t be borne.

That was, until that little incident with Malfoy last night.

Just thinking about it caused Ginny to burn with shame.

By all standards, Malfoy was considered good looking. All right, she conceded that he was more than good looking. If you got right down to it he could be considered quite gorgeous, if you liked that sort of thing. With his pale grey eyes and Seeker’s build, it was no wonder that he had been nicknamed the Slytherin Sex God. But still, Ginny didn’t see why hoards of girls were forever throwing themselves at him, hoping for something more than a cursory glance. She had interacted with Malfoy countless times, none of which had changed her view of him as a world-class git. Gone were the malice and evil tendencies, but he was still unbelievably conceited and spoiled. Of course, she had made her opinions on this known, which was precisely why it pained Ginny to recall the previous night.



She had had a rough night. After serving detention with Snape, she had been on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when a cackling Peeves had waylaid her by tossing a bucket of soapy water at her. Half-drenched, Ginny had stomped to the nearest bathroom, which happened to be a Prefect’s bathroom. Perhaps her foul mood had clouded her mind, but she didn’t think to knock or listen for sounds of water splashing. Cursing under her breath, she had opened the door only to be rendered entirely silent and utterly speechless.

A man had stood a few metres in front of her, back facing her, the bottom half of his torso wrapped in nothing but a thick white towel. His back was broad and lean, tapering off to a narrow waist. His skin was still glistening from his bath. Although all she had been able to see of him to identify him was matted blonde hair, there had been no doubt in her mind that this was Draco Malfoy.

Oh Merlin, had been Ginny’s only coherent thought. Clearly, she had been missing out.

As he had reached to the side for another towel, his back and shoulder muscles had rippled enticingly, and a soft gasp had escaped Ginny.

In a heartbeat, Malfoy had grabbed his wand, which lay atop a pile of clothes, and spun around, his eyes flashing.

Ginny would have said something in defence, but the sight of Malfoy from the front had been (if that was possible) even better. He boasted a defined chest, surprisingly large biceps for a Seeker and an even more surprising six-pack. His towel was slung low on his hips, and Ginny had to try her hardest not to imagine what it was hiding.

Malfoy had visibly relaxed, lowering his wand when he’d seen that it was her, but now that the shock had worn off he had just stood there in his towel and his wonderfully glorious – damn him! – body, staring at her with those intense grey eyes of his, not saying a word.

Having those eyes directed at her had snapped Ginny back to reality, and as she assessed the situation she realised she didn’t have a defence for why she had been standing there for such a long time. She had waited for Malfoy to say something, but the seconds ticked by and he had just stood there, waiting for an explanation. Feeling extremely unnerved, Ginny had decided to break the ice.

After what had seemed like a century but had in reality only been a few seconds, she had backed away, muttering apologies.

Malfoy’s cool stare had then morphed into a smirk. “I don’t mind actually. Enjoying the view?”

“I, uh, well—that is…” Ginny had clutched at straws for a response that wasn’t an outright lie as her traitorous mind pondered vaguely if his chest was as hard as it looked. Perhaps she could reach out and…

Malfoy had smiled, a feral, calculating smile that reminded Ginny of a cat watching a canary being taken out of its cage. “You know, Weasley, if you wanted a look, all you had to do was ask.”

Malfoy had shifted his weight onto the other hip while talking, and Ginny had to fight the urge to swallow. She wondered how securely he had knotted his towel.

Thankfully, Malfoy seemed to have given up on getting an answer. “Caught in the rain?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow at her attire.

Ginny had been quite mortified. She hadn’t even thought about being half-drenched the moment she’d set eyes on him, and she’d felt rather foolish standing there dripping water onto the floor. “Peeves’ idea of a joke,” was all she’d muttered.

Malfoy had stood there for a few moments, looking amused, before saying, “Planning on watching me change as well?”

“N—no! I’ll be outside.”Ginny had nodded emphatically and stepped outside.

As the door had closed behind her, Ginny had slumped against it for support, bemoaning her lack of good graces. Why, why did she have to discover her hormones now? Why did her brain, which had always been a reliable repository of witty remarks, have to abandon her at this most crucial juncture – in front of Malfoy, no less! And all because of some stupid muscles. She was going to be the laughingstock of Hogwarts as soon as Malfoy ran to his housemates to spread the news that Ginny Weasley had peeped at him when he was half-naked and, yes, she had enjoyed the view very much indeed.

The door had opened, and Ginny had stumbled in, narrowly missing Malfoy. She was surprised when she felt his hand on her arm, steadying her. His touch seemed to burn. “Thanks. Sorry about that.” She’d looked up and had been relieved to see that he was all covered up. Not that it made much of a difference, now that she’d seen what was underneath, could picture it easily…

“Well then, I’d better leave and let you sort yourself out. We wouldn’t want you to be running around all wet and flustered now, would we?” With another smirk, he had gathered his belongings and left. The innuendo in his parting words was unmistakable.



Ginny’s cheeks flushed as she recalled the incident. Merlin, he was arrogant! She was absolute furious with herself for acting the way she had. There was so much that she could have said not to seem like a pervert and a dimwit. But there and then, having had Malfoy’s piercing grey eyes concentrated on her like that, she’d been a goner. If only she had turned away when she had had the opportunity those few moments before he had seen her!

Well, it wouldn’t do to dwell on such things. Right now there was the more pertinent problem of what seemed to be her growing fascination with Draco Malfoy. She refused to be reduced to one of the many, many, many girls who fancied themselves half in love with him. Such girls were bound to get their hearts broken; it was simply a matter of probabilities.

Right, well, Ginny reasoned, it wasn’t really a fascination, and it certainly wasn’t love, but more of a teeny tiny crush. Yes, that was it. She’d give herself a week. That was surely more than enough time to get the image of Malfoy, half-naked and dripping water, out of her head.



~



Draco Malfoy was fully aware of his effect on people. Girls, in particular, were very susceptible to his charms. One snap of his fingers and they’d come running, not that he’d tried. Guys, on the other hand, did not like him very much. ‘Arrogant, smarmy git,’ was a favourite insult of Ron Weasley. But Draco wasn’t in the least arrogant. He rationalised that if everything he thought about himself were true, then how could he be arrogant? He was merely being truthful. Which was why it pained him to admit that his ‘effect’ did not extend to one Ginevra Weasley. Which was why what happened today pleased him more than he cared to admit.

The truth was, Draco had been watching her for some time, this girl. He had not meant to start. In fact, if he could stop watching her, he would. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she was a pretty girl with a lovely slender figure. There was just something magnetic about her. He was always aware when she entered a room, and his eyes were always drawn to her. He noticed all sorts of things about her. That she had laughing eyes. That there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth that she was slightly self-conscious about. That when she narrowed her eyes, she was only pretending to be irritated but when she went still, you’d better apologise right away. That on Saturday mornings she would wake early and have breakfast alone while reading a book. That she hated thunderstorms. It was really quite embarrassing, how much he knew about her.

But of course, he was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley, and countless generations of Malfoys and Weasleys would turn in their graves were anything to happen between them. She was not worth the hell his father would put him through if he found out that Draco was going after her. It didn’t help that she hated him, and made it known him at least three times a week. Despite being the Slytherin Sex God (not entirely true, though he thought it had a nice ring to it), it seemed that Ginny was quite immune. So he told himself it was a mere infatuation, lust, and tried not to think about what it would be like to take her in his arms and give her a good snog. Then a few days ago at the Halloween masquerade they had danced, and she had (not knowing who he was) smiled, a genuine smile that was directed right at him. It had hit him squarely in the gut and knocked the breath right out of his lungs, and Draco had wanted nothing more than for that smile to be directed at him again.

It was downright sappy when you thought about it, but Draco was done thinking. So he decided, screw generations of enmity and discord; he was going to have her. He had been taking a long, lazy bath, in the midst of devising just how to go about doing this. The Fantabulous Trio (not to mention the rest of Gryffindor) would have his head for trying, no doubt. The problem was how to get her alone. She was always surrounded by Gryffindors, or her loopy blonde Ravenclaw friend. Perhaps he could approach her Saturday at breakfast, then. And then what? Draco was no slouch when it came to getting girls, but this one was different.

So when he’d turned around in the bathroom to find her standing there, mouth quite agape, Draco was surprised and more than a little pleased. And she had gone speechless on him, a far cry from her usual spunky self. It pleased him to no end to know that he had some sort of effect on her, and that his training had been put to good use, after all.

The unflappable Ginny Weasley. Finally.



~



At breakfast the next morning, Ginny was scanning the sea of Slytherin faces when she lit on the one she was looking for but trying not to look like she was looking for. She nearly choked on her pumpkin juice when she saw that he was looking right at her, stirring his porridge thoughtfully. She wrenched her gaze away and shovelled cornflakes into her mouth, willing herself not to look up and see if he was still looking at her.

This exchange did not go unnoticed by Luna, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table talking to her friend.

“Oh, so it’s finally happened,” Luna said matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean, finally? What’s finally happened? What are you talking about?” Ginny asked a little snappishly, half-afraid of what the answer might be.

“You and Malfoy, of course,” Luna said, blinking her rather large eyes at Ginny. “I thought it would’ve been obvious.”

“Obvious? Why would anything be obvious? Why would you think there’s anything going on between me and Malfoy?” Ginny knew she needed to shut up right now, but her mouth wasn’t paying heed to her brain.

Luna stared at her. “Are you all right? Have you got a case of Blipperty Tongue? It’s making you speak really quickly.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s just…” Ginny told Luna about the previous night, leaving out the extra naughty bits that had been going on in her mind. “I mean, it’s normal, right? It’s just a hormone thing. I can’t help it.”

“Ginny, you and Malfoy have been flirting with each other for ages. You seek each other out. Of course you find him attractive.”

For the second time that morning, Ginny nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. “What?! We have not! We don’t!”

Luna just smiled at her knowingly.

“That’s not flirting! That’s—that’s arguing! We can’t stand each other!”

They turned to watch as just then, from down the table, Hermione pushed back her chair huffily, glaring at Ron. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, you’re a sorry excuse of a human being! I can’t stand you! I’m going to the library.” She stalked out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron staring at her aghast, his mouth still full of sausage.

Luna turned back to Ginny. “Just like how your brother and Hermione can’t stand each other?”

“Oh, shut up,” Ginny said, growing uneasy at the thought that Luna might just have been right.



~

Every morning when she entered the Great Hall, Ginny would brace herself for what must surely be the derisive, knowing smirks from the Slytherins, to whom Malfoy must surely have related the incident. But every morning, there were none. Strangely enough, whenever they encountered each other between classes – a situation Ginny had strenuously been trying to avoid – although they still argued, he never alluded to The Night Her Hormones Said Hi. But every morning she would see grey eyes pinning her over a glass of pumpkin juice, and a twisted smile that reminded her of the cat that ate the canary. It was driving her mad. He had to be planning something! Ginny decided to ignore him. If anything, she would deny everything.

She was never one for plans, though.

On the fourth day, Ginny snapped. She accosted him as he was leaving the library late one night. “What are you playing at, Malfoy?”

“What are you talking about?” He was watching her with a lazy grin that plainly said he knew intimately what she was talking about.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“What’s to tell?”

“You know…” Ginny stopped herself. Perhaps Malfoy hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary after all! Perhaps she’d been less transparent than she’d thought! “Nothing,” she amended hastily. “Well, I’ll be off,” she said, giving him a big fake grin and trying to side-step him.

No such luck. He stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “I notice you’re no longer mute.”

Damn. So he had noticed. “Go away, Malfoy.”

“You didn’t seem that eager for me to leave a few nights ago.”

Ginny sputtered. “That sounded wrong.” It registered that the fingers he had around her wrist were now lightly grazing her pulse. Ginny tried not to shiver. Control, Ginny. Control. Think of McGonagall and Snape making out—Eurgh. Right. That was helpful. Finally gaining control over her bodily functions – really, was that too much to ask for? –, she shook off his hand.

“Oh, that was exactly how I intended it to sound. And don’t think I failed to notice that you haven’t denied a word.”

“I refuse to allow your head to get bigger than it already is,” Ginny replied loftily, then mentally cursed herself for implying what she had.

“So you did enjoy the view,” Draco mused. He toyed with the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, and Ginny could hear the warning bells going off in her head. Do not undo the cuffs! I repeat, do not undo the cuffs! While this would not have had any effect a few days earlier, knowing what lay under the shirt caused this simple action to be elevated into a strip tease of sorts.

Malfoy languidly undid a cuff, and then another. Damn him and his sneaky, underhanded Slytherin ways! He had to know the effect he was having on her! How absolutely infuriating.

“It’s all hormones, Malfoy,” Ginny told him hotly, trying to convince herself of the fact. “It’s a simple biological response!”

“Nevertheless, it’s a response, isn’t it? Makes you want to… lose control, doesn’t it?” He raked his eyes over her, slowly rolling up his sleeves, exposing nicely muscled forearms.

Ginny swallowed. Images from The Night Her Hormones Ran Wild were already playing in her mind. Malfoy with nothing but a towel on. Malfoy with water trickling down his chest. Malfoy unwrapping his towel and… STOP! She had to get away from him as quickly as possible. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had something for this.

“Why are you undressing in front of me?” Ginny demanded, trying her darnedest not to sound hysterical. Damn she was going nuts. Undone by a pair of forearms!

“Undressing, Weasley? I was under the impression that that was the part you liked watching best.”

“I—that was only—why, you—” A thousand retorts should have risen to her tongue then, but somehow Ginny’s mind was a blank. “Next time, lock the door when you’re taking a bath!” she snapped. And then she did the only thing that could save her in the situation. She turned and fled.



~



Luna was, as always, incredibly unhelpful. She pointed out that Ginny had been the one to seek Malfoy out, and not vice versa, and suggested that she actually enjoyed these encounters, flustered as they left her. She also maintained that they were flirting and, when Ginny had gotten up to leave in an indignant huff, told her to let her (Luna) know when she finally realised that she was half in love with Draco Malfoy.

Pfft. In love! With Draco Malfoy! Ginny supposed there was a reason they called her Loony Lovegood after all.

But as Ginny lay in bed that night, she considered what Luna had said. Did she really seek Malfoy out? Did they – Merlin forbid – flirt? During their daily hallway encounters she would feel a thrill of excitement course through her, and afterwards it would be a few minutes before her heart rate returned to normal, but wasn’t that just the adrenaline that resulted from verbal sparring? And, all right, she conceded that Malfoy was rather witty and made her laugh in spite of his meanness sometimes, and he was really quite good looking – this she couldn’t deny after The Night Her Hormones Took Over Her Brain – but she couldn’t possibly like him, could she? He was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! Although it had been established that he wasn’t going down the Death Eater route, and she didn’t really hate him anymore, he was still rude and obnoxious and fully convinced of his own superiority.

And he had been the biggest prat that day! Undressing in the hallway like some—like some—scarlet man! The more rational part of her brain interjected that you couldn’t really consider rolling up one’s sleeves undressing. But it was more the way he had done it! With such deliberate, slow movements! The anticipation of it had made her hold her breath. He had to have known the effect it’d have on her.

Well, clearly her mind hadn’t fully erased the image of a half-naked Malfoy from its archives just yet. Ginny reasoned that it had only been a couple of days. Give it a few more and Malfoy would be just another pretty boy, no longer to occupy her waking (and sleeping) thoughts.



~



Fat lot of good one week did, Ginny thought uncharitably as she got up early as usual on Saturday morning and went to the Great Hall alone. She liked her Saturday mornings; during the week she was much too tired to get up early but on Saturdays she would bounce out of bed, buoyed by the thought of the weekend. She would sit at the table alone – Gryffindors were generally not early risers – and enjoy her eggs and tea in relative quiet, a book open in front of her. But this week her mood was ruined by the thought of one Draco Malfoy, and the fact that one week had proved insufficient to get him out of her system. Besides the conviction that he was plotting her downfall in some way or another, he featured strongly in her mind in… other ways. Ginny couldn’t help the blush that crept up her neck at the thought.

As Ginny sipped on her tea her eyes traversed the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws were disgustingly early risers; the table was nearly filled. The Hufflepuff table was half-filled with chirpy students, gathered in one large group. And the Slytherin table was empty save for a couple of small groups, here and there, and… Draco Malfoy, who was sitting across Blaise Zabini, another seventh year Slytherin.

Merlin. Would the nightmare never end? Ginny watched as he bit into a scone, apparently unaware that he was under scrutiny. It wasn’t as if she had never seen him sans robes before (school robes were not mandatory outside of classes), but now that she had witnessed firsthand what lay under those robes, his clothes took on a whole other dimension. The light grey sweater he was wearing hugged what she knew to be his broad shoulders and defined chest. Ginny tried not to drool into her porridge.

Suddenly Malfoy straightened up and looked her way. Their eyes locked, and his mouth slowly curved into a smile. Damn him. Damn that smile. That smile could melt a glacier at twenty paces. Ginny could feel her face beginning to heat up, and then she felt furious with her body for acting like this. What was wrong with her? She refused to give him the satisfaction of the upper hand; she would not look away. After a few seconds, Ginny thought she had to look away soon or her heart would likely burst from her chest. Malfoy had some really intense eyes. And she was distantly aware of a rustling sound beside her. She turned to see a sleek, proud-looking owl holding an envelope in its beak. Before she could do anything, the owl had dropped the envelope on her lap and flown away. She turned it over in her hand. Ginny Weasley, it said on the envelope. Curiously tearing it open, Ginny saw that the note was brief and to the point – Hogsmeade? D.M.

Breathing deeply, Ginny closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. She re-read the note. Yup, there was no mistaking what it said. Draco Malfoy might not have been the only person at Hogwarts with those initials, but it was clear from the way he was now smirking at her that he was the sender. She dared not contemplate what it might mean. He had to have a motive, of course. The million-galleon question was, what? He couldn’t really be asking her out. This had to be his way of slowly torturing her. Shoving the envelope into her pocket, Ginny was abjectly grateful for the fact that her brother and her friends were too much of pigs to wake up early on Saturday and be around to poke their noses into this.

Ginny saw Malfoy clap Zabini on the back and get up to leave. Abandoning her breakfast, she followed him out of the Great Hall, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Now that she was behind him, she could truly appreciate the way he looked in jeans, and she had to mentally shake herself to focus on the issue at hand.

He slowed as he turned a corner and paused as he reached a little-used corridor, as if knowing that she was behind him.

As always, she was the first to speak. “Hogsmeade, Malfoy?” she demanded, wanting to know what he meant by the note.

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe that was my line.”

“I wasn’t asking you to go! I merely—what in Merlin’s name was that note about?”

“Why, I knew you Weasleys were poor, but I thought you’d at least be literate.”

“I know what it said! I’m just—what’s your game? And perhaps you’re not very experienced, Malfoy, but when you ask someone out, it’s considered impolite to insult her family.”

“Oh, I am plenty experienced, Weasley, don’t you worry,” he promised, and she could just imagine just how experienced he was. There was a small unpleasant churning sensation in her belly at the thought of Malfoy with another girl, with many other girls.

“My point is, why are you doing this? I’m sure plenty of girls have found you... passable before. Why are you singling me out for torture?”

Draco snorted. “I’m certain that they, as well as you, find me much more than passable,” he said, earning him a glare. “And I would hardly call an invitation to Hogsmeade torture.”

Clearly, humility was not one of his strong suits. “Be serious, Malfoy. Is this your idea of a joke?”

“I am being serious, Ginevra,” he said, drawing out the syllables of her name. “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”

His hot gaze bore into hers and Ginny felt her stomach twist into knots. She realised that although she had been the one to confront him, he now had her backed against the wall, and her body was reacting in ways she did not consider quite acceptable. And what was that about being serious? If he really was asking her out… Ginny tried not to let him see her gulp. Quickly quashing the beginnings of a tiny flutter of hope, she pushed the thought out of her mind. He was not asking her out. This had to be all just a game to him. He was going to make her wait for him, and then his friends were going to pop out from a pillar and shriek, ‘What, did you really think he was going to come? Stupid Weasel! Hahahahahaha…’

No, she was not going to let herself hope. “Don’t toy with me, Malfoy.”

“Why are you so convinced that this is all a joke?” he asked, staring at her with that inscrutable gaze of his. It unnerved her completely.

“Because you hate me!” she blurted. And I hate you, she wanted to add. But then, a little voice in her head (which sounded suspiciously like Luna) said, this wasn’t really true now, was it?

“Whatever gave you that impression?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you can’t stand Weasleys.”

“Well, Ginevra, it would seem that you’re the exception.” His voice had dipped an octave, and the way he said it left no doubt in Ginny’s mind that he meant it. He leant in, and she could feel his breath on her ear as he said, “Say yes, Weaslette.” It sent tingles straight down her spine.

Ginny had to work hard to suppress a shudder. It was difficult to think straight, not when his body was so close that she could smell his cologne, an undeniably male scent that made her want to bury her nose in his shirt. It wasn’t fair that he could affect her this way without even trying! She wanted nothing more than to get away, and at the same time she wanted nothing more than to reach up and… Really, why was he leaning in so closely? It suddenly came to her. He was trying to seduce her! “You’re trying to seduce me!”

Draco blinked. “What?”

“I said, you’re trying…” Ginny began but faltered. Now that she had a moment’s pause to think about it, it seemed quite laughable that Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be trying to seduce her. In fact, it was downright ridiculous. The cologne must really be getting to her brain. “Uh— nothing!”

To her relief, Draco did not press the issue. He merely stared at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “How about this—let’s make a deal. You say yes, and I will make no mention of last week ever again.”

Ginny blinked. That actually sounded pretty good. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

She considered him with appraising eyes. Was she curious enough to agree? Was she crazy enough? Infatuated enough? Was she going to regret it for the rest of her life if she agreed – or if she didn’t?

“Weasley, just say yes. Go to Hogsmeade with me this once, and I won’t bother you again.” His voice was light and even, but Ginny thought there was a slight wobble to it.

“All right,” she said finally. What? What was that coming out of her traitorous mouth? Her traitorous mouth argued (silently) that it couldn’t really be expected to refuse him when he was being all intense like this, could it? Well, she supposed it had a point.

“Good,” he said, nodding confidently, although Ginny thought she detected a hint of relief in his eyes. “I’ll see you next Saturday then.”

He turned to leave.

“Malfoy?”

He turned and raised an eyebrow.

“I…” Why had she called him? She had nothing to say, although she hadn’t wanted him to leave just yet. She forced herself to meet his eyes, challenging him. “I trust you’ll make it worth my while.”

His lips curved into a smirk then. “Of course, Weasley. Expect nothing less.”

As his footsteps echoed down the corridor, Ginny wondered just what she had gotten herself into.



~



Draco was ashamed to admit that he had planned it, right down to the clothes that he was wearing. He knew that Ginny found him attractive, and there was no shame in using that knowledge to his full advantage. Grey, of course, brought out his eyes, and the cashmere was thin enough to hug but not to cling, suggesting a defined musculature. His jeans were cut neither too baggy nor too tight, emphasising the length of his legs. The cologne was chosen specifically to seduce. Yeah, world domination didn’t come easily. She had nearly caught him out, but playing dumb had salvaged the situation. This was something Draco really wanted and he was working for it, just as he worked for every other thing important to him.

But given that this concerned a girl, Zabini would be shocked at his persistence. Hell, he was shocked at his persistence. He always had scores of girls willing to do his bidding, let alone go out with him, and here he was, pining over a girl who was clearly reluctant – more than reluctant, she was clearly unwilling – to go out with him. But he had asked and asked and she had finally relented. Malfoys never asked more than once, never begged or pleaded, but it seemed that Ginevra Weasley was unwittingly uprooting all his Malfoy traits one at a time.



~

Draco Malfoy was nervous as hell, which was a new thing for him. The reason for this was that he was going on a date with a girl, also a new thing for him. Today was apparently a day of new things. Zabini had insisted that if he really liked Ginny (and Draco had reluctantly admitted to this after weeks of smug looks and snarky comments from him) he had to ask her out properly. Draco Malfoy didn’t go on dates with girls. They sent him notes and sweets and other girlie stuff and sometimes, if he was feeling generous, he’d deign to meet them for a snog or twenty. That seemed to placate them well enough. But lately he hadn’t been able to muster up any interest in those girls, and the reason for this was meeting him in approximately an hour. Draco’s stomach churned in mixed anticipation and apprehension. Well, Zabini was the expert here, he supposed. (Although Draco didn’t know how much he could trust someone who thought that Lovegood girl was ‘pretty smokin’ hot’.)



~



Saturday dawned bright and sunny, which Ginny thought was promising. At least if she were stood up she wouldn’t be one of those pathetic figures huddled in the rain waiting faithfully for their date who was never going to show up (she had watched many depressing Muggle films, courtesy of Hermione). She had also been worrying about how her brother might take her going to Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy, but fortunately the topic of Hogsmeade had not come up between them during the week. She and Draco had planned to meet early, which was fortunate as this would lessen the possibility of being spotted together by anyone they knew.

She had spent the week trying to ignore the conflicting feelings she’d had about The Weekend (as it was termed in her mind; she refused to call it a date). As she put on her best jumper and skirt, she told herself that she was just maximising the mileage out of her few nice pieces of clothing, and not for any other reason. Makeup charms were cast and uncast several times, and in the end just a touch of lip gloss was decided on, to make it look like she wasn’t trying too hard.

She strutted towards the statue of Borag the Bountiful, showing more confidence than she felt, and was relieved to see Draco leaning against a pillar, the very picture of casual elegance. Ginny felt her confidence slip away as the butterflies that she had spent the week strenuously trying to tame exploded into action once again.

“Malfoy,” she greeted. She was feeling uncharacteristically shy but determined not to show it.

“Weasley,” Draco acknowledged politely, nodding. Ginny was looking prettier than usual; she was wearing a soft-looking dark green jumper that puffed slightly around the sleeves and complemented her pale skin nicely. “This colour suits you,” he said honestly, if a touch stiffly. What was it Zabini had said? Compliment her; girls don’t like to be insulted? Not that he didn’t know all that already, but putting it into practice with Ginny, when they were so used to snapping at each other all the time, did not come naturally.

“Thank you,” Ginny said warily. “You look good too,” she said truthfully, although that wasn’t the half of it. He was looking perfectly edible, that’s what he was.

“You’re welcome, and thank you.”

Not that she didn’t appreciate manners, but, really, who was he kidding? “Oh, screw this.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?”

Draco’s face broke into a grin. Well, she had practically given him permission to insult her. “Really, Weasley, is it that hard to imagine that I might actually have manners?”

“Not at all,” Ginny said dryly. “This must be how you charm the pants off girls.”

“No, the pants come off all by themselves,” Draco said smugly. “The date’s not required.”

“That’s more like the Malfoy I know,” Ginny said, relaxing. “Come to think of it, I’ve never once seen you on a date. Why is that?”

He turned to look at her, amused. “Been spying on me, have you?”

She answered his question with a roll of her eyes. “Seriously, Malfoy. Considering your reputation, you must admit that’s rather shocking.”

“As I said, when you’re me, dates are not required for charming the pants off anyone. And maybe I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to take out… yet.” He said this looking at her intently.

Ginny determinedly avoided his gaze, silently cursing her cheeks for their inevitable reddening. She knew that a thousand girls would probably kill to have Draco Malfoy look at them like that, but the logical part of her brain reminded her that this was Draco Malfoy she was dealing with; he could be charming as hell when he wanted something. Ginny was all too familiar with charming guys (Tom Riddle, anyone?), and the voice in her head (which sounded an awful lot like Hermione) reminded her to be please be careful. But she couldn’t ignore the not-so-tiny part of her that was thrilled and excited and wanted The Weekend to go well.



~



Their first stop when they arrived at Hogsmeade was Honeydukes, where Ginny and Draco stocked up on candy. After carefully deciding on a handful of Strawberry Chocolate Frogs and a small bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans – Exotic Food edition, Ginny noticed that Draco was buying what appeared to be half the shop. Boys, Ginny thought resentfully, as she watched him pile chocolate frog after chocolate frog into his basket with vigour, always eating and never gaining weight. This, however, led her to think about Draco’s body, which led down a traitorous train of thought. That would never do. Ginny pried her thoughts away from Draco’s hard, muscled, lithe, sleek, um, body, and tried to concentrate on the display of orange gumballs bouncing around in a fake mouth. She insisted on paying for her own candy, despite Draco’s protests otherwise, and he finally relented, trying to quash the accusing voice in his head that said it was probably his fault that Ginny was so sensitive about her poverty.

As they walked around Hogsmeade, going into various shops and admiring the new products on sale, Ginny found herself subconsciously comparing him to her ex-boyfriends. She was both tickled and charmed by the way he held open the door for her. Having grown up with six rowdy (except Percy) older brothers, she was not used to such gentlemanly behaviour. Michael had done it while they had been together, but more, she felt, out of a sense of chauvinism than anything else. Ginny also relished the feel of Draco’s hand resting lightly on her back, although she had found it so annoying in Dean while they had been dating. He listened to her opinions and didn’t mindlessly agree (as Dean had) or patronise her (as Michael had). Of course, he had his own opinions, which were vastly different, but they agreed to disagree. She had to mentally shake herself free from such thoughts. Why was she thinking of him as a potential boyfriend? He was entirely unsuitable for her.

As they walked past Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ginny paused to admire the Lightning 300 broom that was in the window display.

Draco leaned in to check it out as well, and Ginny’s breath caught as it registered how close they were standing to each other. When he stood behind her like that, well, Ginny’s face flamed as she tried in vain not to imagine what other things they could be doing in that position.

Unbeknownst to Ginny, Draco had A Plan. His plan, simply put, was to seduce her. He had decided against anything too overt, as that might come across as Sleazy and Desperate, but he would take every opportunity he could to affect her. So far, his plan seemed to be working, although on the flip side he was faring not much better himself. He had to constantly resist the urge to touch her – to press a kiss to her cheeks as they lit with a warm smile, to put an arm around her as they navigated crowded streets, to brush off that tiny piece of lint on the front of her sweater… and she wasn’t even trying! So he settled for the most innocent and fleeting of touches – putting his hands on the small of her back when they entered through the narrow entrance of a shop, accidentally-on-purpose brushing against her hand as they walked. How he had been reduced to resorting to such sneaky tactics when there were witches aplenty out there, Draco didn’t know. But deep down, he knew that she was worth it.

When they were getting tired, Draco suggested The Three Broomsticks, where they sunk into a booth, much to the relief of their tired feet.

After ordering their drinks, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Draco was just feeling relieved that nothing had gone wrong so far when Ginny’s eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed his arm, ducking down low behind the booth.

“What in Merlin’s name—”

“It’s my brother!” she hissed.

Indeed, the Golden Trio was walking through the entrance to The Three Broomsticks, laughing and talking noisily.

Draco blanched. They were going to ruin his date! His stomach churned at the thought. All the times he had played out the date in his head, it had only been him and Ginny, whether it went well or badly. Somehow he had failed to provide for the possible intrusion of friends and brothers. “Let’s leave,” he croaked.

“And miss out on Butterbeer? Not a chance! Plus if we leave now they’re sure to notice.” Ginny’s face scrunched up in thought, and Draco considered it very possible that she was the only person who could make the expression look cute. “I know, we’ll cast Glamours! Change my hair,” she urged him.

With a resigned sigh, Draco touched the tip of his wand to Ginny’s hair. Slowly, it turned a dark brown in colour and was swept up into a thick braid. With another muttered charm from Draco, her eyes turned blue and rounder.

Ginny felt around her hair with her hands. “I’m impressed. Now it’s your turn.”

“I refuse to walk around with acne and a big nose,” Draco said uncompromisingly, but Ginny was already peering closely at his face, considering what to change. She tapped her wand on his shoulder, and he grew shorter and stouter. She then turned his hair brown and wavy, and removed it from its gelled confines.

Draco regarded his growing stomach with horror. “You’ve made me fat!” he said accusingly. This was not going according to plan at all. He wasn’t one of those people who believed in letting your inner beauty shine and all that rot; he knew his looks gave him an advantage and he had been planning to put them to their full use, especially since he now knew that Ginny was susceptible. Only now he was a chubby brunette with curly hair. He didn’t think his charms extended that far.

“Don’t be such a girl; it’s only for a while.” Ginny giggled as she considered her masterpiece, who looked like a petulant child who had been told he could only pick three toys in the store.

“Easy for you to say,” Draco muttered sulkily. She hadn’t been changed very much although he had to admit that red hair suited her much better than brown, in spite of all his teasing about ‘that garish red’.

The trio sat down at the next table, but did not seem to recognise them, and Draco and Ginny breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Their Butterbeers came, and they began to relax around each other as they chatted about school and everything else under the sun. Amongst other things, they talked about why toast always landed buttered side down, how muggle awry-planes worked and the possibility that the captain of the Hovering Hornets had troll blood in him.

They eavesdropped on the Trio’s conversation, and sniggered silently, catching each other’s eyes, as Ron remained painfully and utterly oblivious to the not so subtle hints that Hermione fancied him.

Ginny found herself enjoying her time with Draco. In spite of all her reservations, she found herself drawn to his wit and dry sense of humour. What shocked her was that even when he no longer looked like the Slytherin Sex God, she still found him extremely attractive. He had a magnetic quality to him that she now knew was amplified by his looks but not dependent on them. She was hyperaware of his touch. Each time his knuckles lightly grazed her arm when they walked or their fingers accidentally brushed, a warm tingle went through her.

Yet Ginny’s mood was marred precisely because the day was going so well. She hadn’t wanted to enjoy it. She had gone on this outing fully intending to prove Luna wrong and to put an end to her strange attraction to Draco. She was also slightly on edge, waiting for what would surely be a long drawn-out punch line. And yet, as the day went on, it became increasingly clear to Ginny that what she felt for Draco Malfoy might not have been just the hormones.

She had enjoyed herself tremendously. She felt utterly comfortable bantering with Draco, minus the edge of hostility that had tinged their conversations past. They shared a similar sense of humour – he was more dry and cutting while she was more boisterous – but there was never want for laughter. It had all the makings of a wonderful friendship. And yet, was friendship all she wanted?

As they returned to Hogwarts, Ginny felt herself become on edge again. The day had been wonderful, but now that they were back it felt like reality had doused cold water on her. There were friends and brothers to deal with, house boundaries and family enmity. She wondered, not for the first time, what the day had been all about to Draco.

“Is it safe for me to walk you back to your common room?”

Ginny nodded. “We can go by the other side; nobody goes by that way.”

They took a longer, less frequently used route, and stopped along a corridor just around the corner from the portrait of the Fat Lady.

While Ginny was struggling to think of something to say, Draco thrust a Honeydukes paper bag at her. “Here.”

“Wha—? You didn’t have to… I mean…”

“Well, considering you drooled on quite some of the candy, I thought it’d only be right to buy them.”

“Why, you—!”

“A simple thanks would have sufficed,” Draco said, smirking.

She glared at him. “Well, thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

A silence stretched between them as neither wanted to leave although neither knew what to say.

Draco spoke first.

“So, Ginevra,” he began, his voice a drawl. “Was it worth your while?”

Ginny coloured as she remembered her parting words to Draco when she had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him. I trust you’ll make it worth my while. And he had kept his promise. She’d had a good time, and she didn’t see any reason to lie now. “Surprisingly, yes,” she said, bravely looking him squarely in the eyes.

He considered for a moment. “Do you regret it?”

A heartbeat, and then the truth. “No.”

He took a step towards her, and now he was standing right in front of her. She could smell his cologne from where she was, just inches away. It was intoxicating. “Would you do it again?”

“Are you… asking me out?”

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “That depends. Would you do it again?” He said this lightly, but his eyes were dark and serious.

“Well… Yes, I suppose I would,” Ginny admitted. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Not for their content, which was true, but for the fact that he now knew her feelings – or at least, some part of them – whereas she didn’t know his. She was utterly at his mercy now.

But then he smiled. Not a wry or amused or mocking smile, but a genuine, happy smile. Grey eyes met brown, and Ginny found herself unable to look away. Warmth spread through her, and her heart seemed to have stopped beating. When Draco smiled, which was rare, it was already a sight to behold. How much more wonderful it was, Ginny thought, when it was directed right at you.

Surely, the sensible thing to do would have been to pull her eyes away, to step away and start up some inane chatter. This strange connection between them would be broken and everything would go back to normal. Hermione would have approved. Molly Weasley would have approved. All her brothers would definitely have approved.

Instead, Ginny did what any other hot-blooded female would have done under the circumstances. She launched herself at him.

The kiss was incredibly gratifying and yet at the same time deeply unsatisfying for the simple reason that it wasn’t enough. Ginny could feel weeks of pent-up frustration pouring out as she struggled not to collapse in a heap at Draco’s feet. Merlin, his chest felt even better under her hands than it looked, and it had looked pretty damn good. And he smelled divine. She wanted to bury her nose in his shirt forever. That is, if she could find the strength to disengage her mouth from his. And were those his fingers lightly tracing circles on her back?

Sudden, raucous laughter nearby caused them both to spring apart. The newly-available oxygen pumped rational thoughts to the forefront of her mind, the first of which was well, that was pretty damn amazing but what the hell have you done? Ginny was utterly horrified. Her first impulse was to turn and flee but shock kept her rooted to the spot. What had she done? She had thrown herself at him! She’d truly become one of them! What was he going to think of her now?

She refused to look at him. “I—I’ve gone about this the wrong way, haven’t I?” she said hoarsely, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Or that a herd of stampeding Minotaurs would storm Hogwarts, their rampaging causing a massive explosion in the Potions laboratory, and that the fumes from the resulting mixture of Kneazle hair, mermaid’s bile and Gillyweed juice would rise with the smoke, Obliviating everyone in the castle, including and most especially Draco. Or something along those lines, anyway.

She chanced a look at him.

Draco seemed equally stunned, though quite pleased. Too pleased. Quite smug, in fact. Was that a smirk lurking at the corner of his mouth? “Actually, it seems you know exactly the right way to do it. If I had known that some candy was all it’d take, I’d have gotten you some sooner.”

Realisation dawned.

“You planned this all along!” she accused. If the whole day had just been an elaborate hoax on his part, now would be the time to come out.

Draco shrugged. “Indeed I did.”

Her heart sank. So this was it. He had planned it. He had not even bothered to hide it. He had intended to string her along and then humiliate her, and he didn’t even look the least bit guilty. “I see,” she said tightly. It surprised her that the reigning emotion in her was not anger but disappointment. She had enjoyed spending time with him. She truly had. Why did she have to go and fall for someone when it was all but a lost cause? She tried not to let her feelings run amok on her face, but she had never been good at that. Her curiosity got the better of her. “Why?”

“Well, Ginny Weasley…” Draco ran a finger down her cheek and lifted her chin so that she was looking straight up at him. “I happen to like you very much.”

The frankness of his answer surprised her. He was not playing, his voice neither taunting nor sarcastic. He sounded fully serious, and he had just said he liked her. That was not what she had been expecting at all. Ginny was flabbergasted, panicked, and had the insane urge to burst into song. It amazed her, how a few uttered words could change her feelings so quickly and entirely.

“That hard to believe, eh?”

Ginny was still speechless. “Wha—I mean, how— you can’t!” There was a distinct possibility that she was dreaming. Perhaps the Minotaurs had come, but instead of Gillyweed juice, fresh Flobberworm blood had gone into the mixture instead, and the castle had been permeated with a Dreaming Perfume.

“I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

As he spoke, thoughts of the kiss came flooding back. She had to admit that it had been A Very Good Kiss. And he had definitely done some kissing back. But… “You’re a guy,” she retorted. “You’d kiss Moaning Myrtle.”

Draco heaved a sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Weasel, I’m not exactly pleased about this myself. But I’m not the type of person to deny what’s staring me in the face. In the past couple of months, it’s become pretty clear to me that for some reason, I like you. Very much in fact. And, well, there’s no nice way of saying this but since it’s come to my attention that you’re lusting over me, I thought that I could take this opportunity to… persuade you.” He said this nonchalantly, as if he were talking about Quidditch or the weather, but his shoulders were tensed.

This was not in the least a romantic speech – Ginny had never pegged him as one for the romance of storybooks anyway – but on hearing his words Ginny felt a rush of affection for him. For Draco Malfoy, this was basically handing her his heart on a platter. And he’d liked her for months? “So that’s why you’ve been, um, seducing seduce me?”

“Rather.”

“Oh.” Why he thought he’d have to make an effort to seduce her, Ginny had no idea. He was getting quite close now, and Ginny struggled to get her thoughts into words. She needed to know. “Not so you can make fun of me? Or add to your, um, collection?”

“Not at all,” he said seriously. He paused, and seemed to be having some internal battle, and when he looked at her his grey eyes were searching. “Did it work?”

And she knew that he wasn’t just referring to the seduction and her overworked hormones. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, and the thoughts that flashed through her mind told her what her answer was going to be. The way his eyes crinkled with he laughed, and how lovely a sight it was to behold, even when he had been Glamoured. The way, when she saw something amusing or strange, he would catch her eye, even before she pointed it out. Not forgetting, of course, his devastatingly good looks and delectable body. “Absolutely.”

And, without a moment’s pause, she launched herself at him again.



~