"I refuse to believe it," Hermione Granger said scathingly as she dumped her books down on the table and accidentally upset Ginny's inkpot in the process. "How on earth can a ghost suddenly learn to tell the future? It's impossible, even in the magical world."

"That's what I thought, too," Ron admitted, also taking a seat at the table and completely ignoring his sister's scowl, "but it seems that when Myrtle last got flushed down the toilet into the Black Lake, she got caught in some magical force that somehow gave her the power of divination – or so she claims."

Ginny, who was trying to remove the spilt ink from her homework, looked up at this disclosure and stared at her brother in some interest. "Are you telling me that Moaning Myrtle has learnt to predict the future?"

"Apparently."

"What a load of rubbish," Ginny laughed. "Moaning Myrtle, a Seer? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, pleased that someone else shared her view. "The whole idea is preposterous. Besides, I've heard some of these so-called predictions, and they're completely ridiculous."

"Well, she was right about Neville Longbottom making it on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"I refuse to believe that Moaning Myrtle's supposedly occult powers were the reason that Neville got on the team," Hermione retorted stubbornly. "He must have just been practising without us knowing."

Ron shrugged. "Think what you will, but that doesn't change the fact that Neville actually did get on the team after Myrtle said he would."

Hermione remained sceptical. This was not surprising, for she was a girl who thrived on logic and facts. She had also been rather contemptuous of the art of divination ever since it was revealed she had no aptitude for the subject. Ginny, however, was not so biased, and though she still found it hard to believe that a ghost could predict the future, she did find it very odd that Myrtle's prediction of Neville becoming Chaser had actually come true. After all, anyone who knew Neville would know that the dumpy boy had never enjoyed flying, nor had he been particularly good at it.

Ginny rested her chin on her hand. "I wonder if Myrtle really can predict the future?"

"Oh, Ginny, not you too!" the brunette cried, looking as if her friend had somehow committed some heinous crime for even daring to believe such improbable gossip.

"Well, you do have to admit that it is all rather strange," the redhead pointed out.

"Strange?" Hermione scoffed. "The only thing strange about it is that people are gullible enough to believe this rubbish."

"You're probably right," Ginny agreed. "Still, it would be pretty funny if it were true."

Hermione sniffed haughtily. "I don't think so. We have enough Seer-wannabes in this castle without adding a depressed ghost to the bunch."

Ron, who was growing bored of the subject, leaned backwards on his chair so that he was resting precariously on two of its legs. "Anyway," he interposed while throwing an expectant look at the bushy-haired girl beside him, "shall we get started on that essay?"

The brunette glanced distractedly at him, and then her eyes widened in sudden outrage. "Ronald Weasley!" she screeched, causing him to give a startled jump and nearly topple off his seat. "Don't you have any respect for school property?"

"What?"

"You'll ruin the chair if you swing on it like that!" she elaborated, and looked so priggish doing so that Ginny was forcibly reminded of her brother Percy.

"It's just a chair, Hermione," Ron muttered, though he obliged her and placed the seat back down on all four legs.

"What may be just a chair to you is another person's property."

"I hardly think that Dumbledore will care if a few chair legs are broken. He can just fix them with magic, you know."

"That's beside the point. You shouldn't swing on chairs anyway. It's bad manners."

Ron's cheeks flushed a dull pink. "What are you, my mother? It's just a chair! It's not the end of the world!"

Ginny snorted at the bickering couple. "I think I'll leave you two to it. I've given up on finishing this essay anyway."

Hermione gave her a distracted goodbye and then rounded back on Ron, who was now very red in the face. He reminded Ginny of a boiling kettle in that moment, and she half expected to see steam come out of his ears or perhaps to hear him start whistling shrilly. Now that would be something.

The argument increased in volume, and Ginny, not wanting to be caught up in the ridiculous affair when Madam Pince inevitably came to reprimand the two, decided to make her escape while she could. She stuffed her ink-stained homework into her satchel, muttered a final goodbye, and then exited the library just as the vulture-like librarian made her descent on the table.

Ginny wasn't really sure what she was going to do now. She had been hoping to work on her essay in some peace and quiet, but the arrival of her brother and his bushy-haired friend had ruined that plan. She supposed she could try to find her friends from her own year, but, truth be told, she was not overly fond of the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls, nor were they overly fond of her. There was a mutual agreement of toleration between them, which suited Ginny just fine. She had always enjoyed the company of males more, anyway.

She glanced out the window and caught sight of the Quidditch pitch, which seemed to shine like a beacon to her. There was an idea: she could go practise her Seeker skills for a while – Merlin knew she needed it. She used to play as Chaser, but since Harry had decided to go and get himself irreparably hurt last year – he had fallen down the stairs in his Muggle home and had hit his head so hard that it was now too dangerous for him to play a rough sport like Quidditch – Ginny had been forced to take his position as Seeker, since she was the only one good enough to do it. Harry, of course, had kept his position as Captain of the team.

Ginny sighed. What she wouldn't give to be a Chaser again. It wasn't that she was a bad Seeker; in fact, most people agreed that she was very good in her new position, for she was fast on a broom, naturally abetted by her petite build, and she had a good eye. No, the problem was not her flying skills – it was Draco Malfoy. The smarmy Slytherin had proven to be the bane of her existence when it came to Quidditch, and it had not taken long for the two to become rivals. Unfortunately, he actually was a better Seeker than her – which was not surprising when one considered he had been playing in that position for almost six years now – so, more often than not, it was Ginny who was left scowling after a match while he celebrated another victory with his teammates.

Even now, she scowled at the thought, and her hands clenched into tight fists as the image of that smirking blond presented itself to her fuming mind's eye. If there was one thing she was determined to do that year, it was to beat him at every game of Quidditch they played together. The other Seekers were nothing to her, but Draco Malfoy had taunted her with his victories long enough. This time she was going to be the one who flashed that golden ball under his nose with victorious satisfaction; she would make sure of it.

Cheered by this gratifying image, Ginny wasted no time in taking herself off to the pitch, where she planned to practice until she turned numb with cold in order to be ready for when she next faced her Slytherin rival. Alas, she had no sooner reached her destination and got her broom ready when said rival appeared in physical form before her stunned gaze, hovering lazily on his Firebolt with a Snitch in hand and an insolent expression on his face.

"Well, well," the blond remarked, smirk firmly in place. "Thinking of getting some practise in, Weasley? You know it won't help."

Ginny's temper, which was never the best, even on her good days, snapped at the mere sight of that infernal little smirk. "You just wait, Malfoy!" she retorted heatedly. "Next game that Snitch is going to be mine!"

His eyebrow lifted a fraction. "An admirable threat, but one that hardly constitutes much when you're flying a—" he examined her battered Cleansweep with open disdain. "Can you even call that thing a broom? I'd call it more a relic, myself."

Ginny's cheeks flushed brilliantly in the evening sun, but it was more from rage than embarrassment.

"I guess that doesn't say much for your flying, does it, Malfoy, considering it was this relic that helped me catch the Snitch before you even though you were flying a Firebolt." She flashed her teeth in vicious smile. "Guess all that speed means nothing when compared with real talent."

"That was only a practise game that you won," he reminded her with unruffled composure, "but if you want to call your pathetic attempt at flying 'talent', be my guest. I'm not one to break an impoverished girl's delusions. You probably can't afford to own anything but dreams, anyway."

She clenched her hands into fists. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"Do you really need me to answer that?" he responded with his oh-so-annoying smirk.

Ginny glowered at him. "Smirk all you want, Malfoy, but you won't be for long. I will get that Snitch before you, just you watch!"

"You keep telling yourself that, Weasley. Perhaps it might even come true – in your dreams, that is."

Ginny gave a strangled sort of shriek and reached blindly for her wand, but the blond was already sauntering off towards the changing rooms – if one could be said to saunter while on a broom. She glowered darkly at him as he left her to fume alone, thwarted in her violent intentions.

That was another thing she hated about him: he always got the last say. True, this was mostly due to the fact that he was the only one left calm enough during their arguments to actually do the dismissing, but that was beside the point. Something about him just made her blood boil. She longed to steal his fancy broom and hit him over the head with it until he resembled nothing more than a bloody pulp. Unfortunately, the world did not take kindly to murder – even if the murdered one was a slimy, Slytherin git – so Ginny had no choice but to quench her bloodthirsty urges. That didn't stop her from despising everything about him, though.

She turned her face from the offensive sight of his retreating figure and clambered onto her broom before she kicked off hard into the air. The wind rippled through her hair, pulling it out of the loose knot she had tied it up in, and allowed the red tresses to stream behind her like a cloak of rich silk. It was a liberating feeling, and she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as she felt that caressing force surround her like an intangible cocoon, her taut muscles relaxing as she gradually began to calm down after her short but frustrating argument with the detestable Malfoy.

One good thing about her temper was that while it was quick to rise, it was also quick to fall. Indeed, she was feeling quite mellow by the time the blond left the pitch once he had showered and changed. She didn't even dive-bomb him as she had contemplated doing when she had first taken to the air.

Ginny swooped down on her broom and closed her hand around the Snitch that she had been practising with. She smiled in triumph, knowing that she had caught that one a whole five minutes faster than the last. A shadow fell across her, and she stared up at the sky and realised for the first time just how dark it was. She knew that soon she would not be able to see the tiny golden ball even if she wanted to, and since she did not want to get in trouble for losing said ball, she decided to call it a night and return to the castle.

It could not be said that Ginny had completely forgotten about her recent dispute with Draco Malfoy. In fact, the blond had an infuriating habit of sticking in her mind like a foul stench long after she had come in contact with him. He was just so insufferable and so impossible to ignore, and she longed for the days when he had simply used to ignore her like one insignificant piece of dust among many. True, he had always teased her if the moment had arisen, such as that dreadful fiasco with the Valentine card, but he had never actually gone out of his way to taunt her like he had her brother. Now, however, he seemed to delight in doing just that.

"Ugh, I just can't stand him!" Ginny growled passionately to herself.

His little smirks and his arrogant airs may make other girls swoon over their feet for him, but the only thing that so-called Malfoy Charm inspired in her was a firm desire to slap his stupid, pointy face. Of course, since he very rarely turned that charm upon her except to mock her, this was not so surprising.

Ginny huffed irritably to herself as she stalked through the doors to the castle and began making her way up the grand staircase. If he just left alone, she would not care about him. Well, maybe that wasn't exactly true. It had become almost an obsession with her to best him on the pitch, but that was only because he was such an arrogant jerk and loved to parade his fancy broom and victories in front of her face like a whore on the sidewalk flaunting her wares. Really, the way he behaved sometimes was quite indecent.

"You're not supposed to be down here," a rather sulky voice announced. "It's past curfew."

Ginny jumped in fright and turned to see none other than Hogwart's supposedly newest seer, Moaning Myrtle, watching her through mournful eyes while idly picking at a spot on her chin. It was quite disgusting, really. One would think that the ghost would realise that nothing could be achieved by such an act except the open declaration of her own vulgarity.

"Shouldn't you be in your toilet?" Ginny retorted, stung by the accusing tones in the ghost's statement.

"Just because I died in the girl's bathroom doesn't mean I always have to stay in there!" Myrtle cried, glaring at the redhead through ghostly tears. "Of course, I should have known how it would be. No one ever wanted me around when I was alive either, so why should I expect any respect in death? You're lucky I can't kill myself or else I would!"

Myrtle gave a convulsive sob after this speech, and Ginny hastily tried to reassure the nigh hysterical ghost that she hadn't meant it in that way.

"Don't lie to me!" Myrtle shrieked. "You think I don't know what everyone says about me?"

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," Ginny said as nicely as she could. "It's just that, well, you don't really leave your toilet, do you?"

"Would you want to live in a toilet?" Myrtle demanded, her misty eyes flashing behind her glasses. "You have no idea what it's like to live day to day in the U-bend, knowing that you're never going to exist as anything other than ugly, moping, moaning Myrtle."

"But you were given the power to see the future, weren't you?" Ginny asked in the hopes of directing the ghost's thoughts to more cheerful matters. "That has to be something?"

Myrtle drew herself up proudly. "Yes, I did. No one believed me at first, but you see how my predictions are all coming true."

"How did it happen?"

"I'm not really sure," Myrtle admitted. "I believe I went unconscious."

"But you're—"

"Dead! Yes, I know. You don't need to remind me!"

"Sorry," Ginny muttered, "I just don't see how a ghost can go unconscious."

"Well, I don't know," Myrtle replied irritably. "Why don't you tell me how it happened then, if you think you're the expert?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't there."

"No, you weren't," Myrtle retorted with a smug smile, as if being flushed down the toilet and into the Black Lake was something to be immensely proud of.

Before Ginny could respond, Mrs Norris suddenly strolled out from behind a tapestry and started hissing and yowling loudly at the two girls, clearly unimpressed with their loitering behaviour. Myrtle shrieked in fright (or perhaps she took personal offence at the unintelligible remonstrance) and drifted off through a wall, presumably back to her toilet. Ginny stared down at the cat, which was still making its dreadful caterwauling. She heaved an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently. "I'm leaving. You don't need to continue hissing at me."

Mrs Norris sat on her haunches and began to lick her tail.

"Right," Ginny murmured, not quite sure what to make of that.

She knew that Filch was bound to be along any minute, drawn by the mysterious powers that linked him to his cat, so she once more began the arduous climb to her dormitory. It was while she was thus engaged that she saw a familiar blond making his way towards her.

For a moment, Ginny could not believe her eyes. Surely Fate could not be so cruel as to give her a double-dosage of Draco Malfoy in one day, but so it seemed to be true. He smirked when he noticed her, and she let out an irritated huff.

"What, are you stalking me now?" she snarled as he drew closer.

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley," he retorted with all his usual cool arrogance. "Besides, if we're to talk of stalking, need I remind you that you're the one who keeps following me."

"For your information, Malfoy, I'm returning to my dormitory, which just happens to be this way."

"Well then, why don't you spare me the dramatics and run off to your tower like a good girl."

"Why, you arrogant, pompous—"

"I'm sure you have a long list of insults to throw at me," interjected Draco in a bored voice, "but I really can't be bothered arguing with you right now." He swept her a mock bow as he gestured up the stairs with his hand. "Your tower is that way."

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"Actually, I can." He tapped the shiny badge pinned to his chest. "Privilege of being Head Boy."

She scowled and folded her arms. "Well then, Mr 'I'm Head Boy', what are you doing out of bed? I know it's not your night to patrol, so you have no right to be wandering around the castle either."

"Now, Weasley," he drawled with unnerving sweetness, "you know that's really none of your business."

"Ha! So you were up to something!"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I wasn't, but if you makes you sleep better at night to think that I'm plotting something nefarious, by all means, think away to your heart's content."

Ginny glowered at him. "You just love rubbing against me the wrong way, don't you?"

He laughed in genuine amusement. "Believe me, Weasley, if I ever do decide to rub against you, it would not be in the wrong way, and you would definitely not be complaining."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and her cheeks flushed a light pink. Draco smirked at her in response.

"What's the matter?" he taunted. "Cat got your tongue?"

Her cheeks still burned, but she swallowed back any impulsive retorts she might have made and lifted her chin. "You disgust me."

The blond seemed delighted by this response, but Ginny did not wait for him to speak and swept past him up the staircase in a shroud of offended dignity. She heard him call out a mocking good night to her, but apart from stiffening slightly and clenching her hands into fists, she showed no sign of acknowledging his call and merely continued to stomp up the staircase to her dormitory.

Little did either of them know that a certain bespectacled ghost had watched the whole scene from within the wall and was now stroking her spotty chin with a rather gleeful smile on her lips for one so melancholic.

"I see," Myrtle mused to herself as she watched the blond head back to his own dormitory. "I see, indeed."

oOo

Ginny was still in a bad mood when she took her seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next day. She could see Draco keeping his fellow Slytherins thoroughly entertained on the table opposite. She clenched her spoon tightly in her fingers and looked so murderous that Neville Longbottom actually shuffled two seats down from her.

"Look at him," Ginny announced to no one in particular. "He thinks he's so wonderful."

"Who?" Harry asked, quite perplexed by this vehement and rather random statement.

"Malfoy!"

"Oh." Harry glanced towards the blond. "Well, yeah, everyone knows he is full of himself."

"I hate him," Ginny muttered fervently.

Harry's eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't know you, er, felt so strongly about the matter," he said, taken aback by the intensity of her declaration.

Ginny said nothing and continued to glower darkly at the object of her frustration. She was still fuming over everything that had happened during their last encounter. It was not that he had been particularly cruel to her; it was the simple fact that he had had the gall, the sheer arrogance, to use her sex against her as if she were one of those silly tramps who would just fall at his feet, and she, oh, shameful as it was to admit, she actually had been flustered.

But she didn't like him. No, there was certainly no danger of her finding him in any way agreeable or attractive; in fact, the whole encounter had only strengthened her resolve to despise him for all eternity. The arrogance he had displayed towards her was enough to make her sick. It was just humiliating to think that he might actually assume she did fancy him because of her blushes. He was certainly conceited enough to do so.

Ginny was still ruminating over this unpleasant thought and how to remedy it when Luna Lovegood presented herself in front of their table, complete with butterbeer cork necklace, and her wand tucked behind her ear for 'safe keeping'.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said dreamily while bestowing an equally whimsical smile on the raven-haired boy.

"Luna," Harry greeted. "What brings you to our table?"

"I wanted to talk to Ginny, actually."

Ginny glanced up at the dotty blonde. "What is it?"

"Would you like to be my partner for Potions?"

Ginny blinked in momentary surprise. Of course, she already knew Luna from their days together in Dumbledore's Army, as well as from the classes they shared, but the redhead hardly considered the Ravenclaw her best friend. However, since Ginny was well aware that Luna had no friends within her own house or year, which certainly did make it awkward for the blonde when it came to partnering up for assignments, and since Ginny did genuinely like the eccentric girl, she decided there was no harm in working with her for Potions.

"Sure thing, Luna," Ginny said with a smile.

Luna thanked her, if a little exuberantly, and then she started babbling about some new potion she had been trying to develop that would prevent the effects of Wrackspurts. Ginny had already lost track of all the many creatures Luna believed in, so it was no surprise that she merely listened to this anecdote with an expression of complete bewilderment on her face.

"Well, I'm quite hungry, so I'm going to eat my breakfast now," Luna declared, abruptly shifting from the whimsical girl she often personified to her more practical self. "I'll see you in class, Ginny."

"Yeah," Ginny replied with an easy grin. "See you then."

Luna smiled once more at Harry and then made her dreamy way back to the Ravenclaw table. Ginny had quite forgotten about her eternal loathing for Draco Malfoy by this point, so she was able to resume her breakfast in a much more peaceful frame of mind. Even Neville dared to wish her a good morning. She responded so cheerfully to him that he took courage and moved back to his old seat beside her so that he could chat to her about being a Chaser. He asked her whether she had any tips that could help him improve his technique. Ginny was more than happy to oblige him with this knowledge, and she spent the rest of her breakfast talking about such mysteries as the 'Backwards Quaffle Shuffle' and the 'Rolling Barrel'.

Once she had finished eating, Ginny followed the throng of students up to the third floor for Charms with her mind still absently lost in thoughts of Quidditch. It was just as she was about to enter the classroom that she heard an unmistakable 'Psst' come from somewhere close to her head. She let out a yelp of fright and turned to see Moaning Myrtle beckoning for her to follow through the wall.

The redhead rolled her eyes. "You know, Myrtle, it may be easy for you to walk through solid stone, but it is quite impossible for me to do so."

"Come to my toilet," Myrtle ordered. "I have something to tell you."

Ginny threw a longing look at the Charms classroom. She did not particularly like Myrtle, but then it was not every day that the ghost demanded an audience with her. She supposed it couldn't hurt if she just went to hear whatever it was that Myrtle had to say.

"Fine," sighed Ginny, "but you have to be quick. I have class soon."

"It will only take a moment," Myrtle replied, and then she gave a small gurgle of laughter that quite unnerved the redhead.

"Right," Ginny murmured, eyeing the ghost with one eyebrow raised.

She followed Myrtle back down the stairs and into the girls' bathroom, which looked as gloomy and unwelcoming as ever. The bespectacled ghost checked to make sure no girls were hiding in the cubicles, and, satisfied that they were alone, turned back to face Ginny.

"Last night I had a vision about you," Myrtle disclosed with all the manner of one making a very grand statement.

"A vision about me?" Ginny repeated, quite perplexed.

"That is what I said."

Ginny's first instinct was to laugh, but she was curious about this supposed prediction. What if Myrtle really had seen a vision about her?

"Well, what did you see?" Ginny enquired.

"I saw," Myrtle began dramatically in a voice that would have given even Sybill Trelawney a run for her money.

There was a pause.

"Yes?" Ginny prompted.

"I saw your future. Your very destiny, in fact."

The redhead repressed an exasperated sigh. "And?"

"Your destiny is to be with Draco Malfoy."

There was a very long pause. Ginny suddenly let out a peal of laughter.

"Oh, that's rich," she exclaimed, still chuckling. "No, really, Myrtle, what did you see?"

"But that's the truth," the ghost replied rather petulantly. "I saw you fall in love with Draco Malfoy, and then the two of you got married and had lots of babies."

Ginny's smile froze in place. "You've got to be joking."

"Why would I joke about something like this?" Myrtle snapped, looking quite offended. "I'm telling you that is what I saw!"

"You're lying," Ginny said firmly. "You have to be lying. I've never heard such rubbish in my life. I hate Draco Malfoy! I'd rather kill him than snog him!"

"So you say now," Myrtle responded slyly.

Ginny's eyes flashed. "You're lucky you're a ghost, Myrtle, otherwise I would make you regret this prank of yours. Did you really think I would be taken in by such a hoax? Hermione told me you were a fraud, but now I know it after hearing your ridiculous prediction. Draco Malfoy and I, in love? Even the Quibbler wouldn't believe such trite!"

Myrtle drew herself up haughtily. "Laugh if you want, but you're only living in denial. You will fall in love with Draco Malfoy. He is your destiny."

"Stop saying that!" Ginny shrieked, clapping her hands over her ears to block out the horrendous words. "He's not my destiny! He's not! And you're a nasty, horrible ghost for making up such lies, and I hope you die—I mean, I hope you—" Ginny fumbled for some fate horrible enough for the ghost and, upon finding none, let out an exasperated scream. "Oh, just shut up!"

Not even waiting for Myrtle to respond, Ginny stormed out of the bathroom and made her way back to the Charms classroom in a whirlwind of rage. She could not believe that ghostly fraud had dared to make up such lies about her. As if she would ever love Draco Malfoy of all people, let alone want to marry him. She detested the very sight of him.

"Destiny," Ginny muttered scornfully. "As if!"

There was no way in hell that she was going to be joined with that arrogant pillock! She didn't care if a hundred seers told her that the blond was her destiny, she would still refuse to believe it.

This was one prophecy that would never come true.

The Potions classroom was not famed for its uplifting qualities. The walls were cold and grey, and the teacher was cold and, well, not grey, but his habitual black garb and acerbic nature were enough to dampen even the most cheerful of spirits. It was therefore no surprise that Ginny Weasley was not in a good mood. However much she may have scoffed at Myrtle's prophecy, there was no denying that it had still managed to disturb her equanimity for the simple fact that Draco Malfoy was involved. If it had been any other boy, she would have laughed it off and that would have been the end of it. But the fact that it was Malfoy! It was enough to make her sick.

"That's the twenty-sixth time you've huffed to yourself," Luna commented, much in the manner of how one says that the sky is blue or that Professor Trelawney likes to get drunk on cooking sherry.

"What?" Ginny asked, startled.

"You keep huffing to yourself," Luna elaborated while chopping off a caterpillar's head. "I'm assuming you have a reason for doing so; otherwise it would be very odd of you."

That was rich coming from Loony Luna Lovegood.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders with feigned indifference. "It's nothing, really. Moaning Myrtle just made a prediction about my future."

"I've heard about Myrtle's predictions. They're quite interesting, aren't they? Neville couldn't believe it when she told him that he would be a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but I said to him that there was no harm in trying out for the position, and now he really is on the team." Luna idly played with her butterbeer cork necklace. "I wonder if she will make a prophecy about me."

"You wouldn't want her to," Ginny muttered with a scowl. "She says nothing but lies."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because she told me that Draco Malfoy is my destiny."

"Well, perhaps he is."

Ginny met those protuberant blue eyes that stared at her so seriously, and she had to remind herself that this was the same girl who believed the rubbish printed in the Quibbler, and who liked to dance in circles to ward off Glubemicks – whatever those were.

"Luna, I know you pride yourself on being very open-minded, but you must see that there is no way such a prophecy can be real," Ginny stated firmly. "I hate Malfoy! I'm not about to fall in love with him!"

"There's a thin line between love and hate."

"Oh, Merlin, don't you start your philosophical rubbish on me. You can talk like a fortune cookie all you want, but it won't make me listen to you or your silly proverbs. I know what I feel for Draco Malfoy, and no stupid prophecy is going to change that!"

Luna smiled serenely, quite unfazed by this less than gracious response. "It sounds to me like someone is in denial."

"What?" Ginny cried, red-faced. "I am not in denial, thank you."

"Then why are you getting so defensive?"

"I'm not! I'm just stating a fact. I don't like Draco Malfoy, and I never will. End of story."

"Not according to Myrtle," Luna responded dreamily.

The redhead shot her friend a suspicious look. Sometimes she wondered if Luna's displays of aloofness were just an act to irritate her further. Right now, it certainly seemed so.

"Luna," Ginny began in a voice that trembled with poorly concealed rage, "please shut up."

The blonde stared at her innocently. "Why, Ginny, are you angry with me?"

"Oh, no, I'm just dandy. I mean, why should I care that you think that I would—that I would—"

"Fall in love with Draco Malfoy?" Luna suggested helpfully.

"Don't say that!" Ginny cried, shuddering at the thought.

"Miss Weasley," a cold voice interrupted.

A dark figure suddenly loomed over her. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut in silent dread, knowing already to whom that ominous shadow belonged. She opened her eyes, half-hoping that the man before her would magically disappear. Alas, the sallow-faced professor continued to regard her down his hooked nose through obsidian eyes that were just as cold as the stone they resembled. She also noted that a smile was playing on his thin lips – something that never boded well for any student, particularly a Gryffindor.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked in a small voice, not able to keep up her usual belligerent attitude when under the full effect of that ironic smile.

"Where are you?"

Ginny blinked at the odd question. "Uh, I'm in your classroom, sir."

"And does one shout in my classroom?"

The redhead was aware of a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. "No, sir," she mumbled, hanging her head.

"What was that, Miss Weasley?" Snape asked calmly.

"I said no, sir," Ginny repeated more loudly, and her cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

His thin lips curled into a sneer. "Then why, may I ask, were you shouting at Miss Lovegood as if you were on a Quidditch pitch and not sitting beside her in my classroom? Do you think yourself so above your peers that you need not follow the rules I have set?"

"I didn't mean to do it!" Ginny cried hotly, stung into a retort.

"Of course you didn't," he replied with a mocking little smile, "it's a habit of yours not to think before you speak. Nevertheless, I would ask you to remember that my classroom is not the Quidditch pitch, nor is it the place for social gossip. Perhaps if you focussed your attention less on your petty adolescent problems and more on the potion you are concocting, you would not suffer these impulsive outbursts."

Ginny's bosom swelled with indignation. "Well, perhaps if you actually learnt to wash your hair more and not be so mean, people wouldn't call you a greasy-haired git!"

A deadly hush pervaded the room. Even Ginny knew that she had gone too far, and she quickly lowered her gaze, mortification ripening the blush on her cheeks to a rich plum. She could still feel his cold eyes fixed upon her, and she chanced a glance at his face, already shrinking into herself as she waited for the severe trimming that she was sure to receive from the Potions Master.

Snape placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward so that she could see the deep pores etched into his hooked nose and the almost translucent quality of his sallow skin. He did not appear angry, but then neither was he amused; rather, there was something triumphant about the odd glitter in the obsidian that stared so calmly back at her. He knew he had her right where he wanted her.

"That will be thirty points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley," Snape said silkily, "and you will also be serving detention with me tonight. It is high time someone taught you to control that unsavoury temper of yours."

Ginny bit down on her lip, holding back the hasty retort that longed to escape. Somehow, she felt like he had purposely goaded her just so he could punish her.

Snape stepped back from her table and then made his way to his desk where he sat down, still looking very pleased with himself. No doubt it was the highlight of his day to give a student detention, horrible man that he was. Still, considering everything that she had said, losing thirty points and getting one detention wasn't so bad. It could have been a lot worse.

Ginny suddenly remembered that Harry wanted to have a team practise on the pitch that night. She groaned and placed her head in her hands. He was going to be furious with her for missing yet another of their practises because of a detention. There was no point asking Snape to let her go early, either. No doubt the professor would take great satisfaction in knowing that he was keeping her from her Quidditch duties.

"What's wrong?" Luna asked while stirring their cauldron.

"I'm going to miss practise tonight because of that stupid detention," Ginny grumbled into her hands.

"Well, you did bring it on yourself, you know," Luna responded frankly. "You're lucky you only got the one detention."

"I know," Ginny sighed. "I shouldn't have said it, but he was rude to me, too!"

Really, she thought it would have been a pure miracle had she not said anything. Even a saint wouldn't have been able to swallow the insults he threw at her. But what did Snape care? He just delighted in stripping down a person's dignity and confidence one sarcastic barb at a time, and today he had ruthlessly attacked hers.

"I think all that grease in his hair gets to his brain," Luna mused as she threw her caterpillar heads into the cauldron. "There must be some special quality in the natural oils that makes people bitter when too much of it is produced. I have noticed that most greasy-haired people tend to be very grumpy. Haven't you?"

Ginny could only stare in open disbelief at the blonde beside her. If Luna had been joking, such a comment would not be so incredible. However, since the redhead knew that her friend was perfectly serious, it only made her wonder just what went on in that eccentric girl's head.

"You are honestly so strange sometimes, Luna," Ginny said fervently.

Luna seemed to take this as a compliment, which was perhaps a good thing. One never knew when the girl would get offended, but she was just so odd that it was difficult to keep one's observations to oneself sometimes. Still, life would be very boring without Luna. Whatever her oddities, she certainly made things interesting.

Speaking of oddities…

"Luna, you don't really think that Myrtle is a Seer, do you?" Ginny asked anxiously. "I mean, she's a ghost. Surely she should not have any magical powers."

"Does it really take magic to read the stars?"

"She said she saw a vision about me," Ginny responded dryly. "It wasn't like she went stargazing and decided the position of Jupiter and Mars means that a certain Slytherin git will become my fated husband-to-be."

"To see a vision is a unique talent, but where does that vision come from? It is guided by what one sees in the stars. I don't see why Myrtle could not have learnt to tap into that power. Perhaps she has always had it but just didn't know."

"You actually believe she is a Seer, then?" Ginny demanded incredulously.

"Does it really matter if she is or not?"

"It matters when she's telling me that Draco Malfoy is my destiny."

Luna smiled. "So you are afraid of falling in love with him."

"What?" Ginny spluttered in revulsion. "No!"

"Then why are you so worried?"

"I'm not worried, I'm just—"

Ginny floundered for words to explain her rather convoluted feelings and realised that she had no idea why it did bother her so much, short of the fact that she hated him with a passion so intense it was bordering manic.

"Well?" Luna prompted.

"Draco Malfoy is a git," Ginny declared loftily. "That's all there is to it."

Luna chuckled and would have said more, but Snape called the class to order for chattering. Both the blonde and redhead reluctantly set to work on finishing their potion before they could get in more trouble. Thanks to their combined ingenuity, the potion was a success (Ginny knew this because Snape merely curled his lip at them but made no scathing remark when they took it to the front for him to collect), and both girls parted ways feeling very pleased with themselves and their joint efforts. Unfortunately, Ginny's elation did not last long.

She stared at the hooked-nose professor with a half-defiant, half-sheepish expression on her face as she awaited her sentence after class. His lip curled ever so slightly in turn, and she felt her stomach sink several notches. Perhaps he was not going to be lenient on her after all.

"I need not tell you that your behaviour was unacceptable today, Miss Weasley," Snape said coolly as he towered over like a black fortress of doom.

"I know, sir," she replied stiffly.

"I wonder if you do."

Ginny gritted her teeth. In her mind she was sternly telling herself not to make a retort, but it was just so impossible to stay calm when he was smirking at her like that. And what was it with Slytherins and smirking, anyway? Was it some part of their code of honour?

To be a true Slytherin, one has to perfect the Slytherin smirk or else one will simply be another lackey.

Crabbe and Goyle must have failed that one, then. The only expression they had perfected was how to look like a greedy troll.

"Is something funny, Miss Weasley?" Snape asked dryly as he saw her lips twitch into a smile.

"No, sir."

His eyes narrowed. Ginny though it prudent not to push her luck any further and decided to change the subject.

"What will I be doing for detention?"

"My inventory needs to be re-catalogued." He smiled maliciously, showing a glimpse of his rather yellow teeth. "I hope you know your alphabet, Miss Weasley."

Ginny inwardly groaned. She was going to spend the night cataloguing. What a nightmare!

oOo

The room was silent except for the monotonous scratching of a quill and the slight rustle of parchment. Ginny stared longingly at the clock. She had been cataloguing the inventory for hours and now she could barely hold the quill in her hand, let alone write with it. To make matters worse, Snape had refused to let her have anything to eat for dinner except a few measly sandwiches. She supposed it shouldn't have come as a shock to her that he was just as stingy with his food as he was with his manners. The man really was evil.

The door to the Potions classroom opened, and she glanced up to see an all-too-familiar blond stride with arrogant grace past her to where Snape was sitting behind his desk. Of course, it just had to be him. The gods were clearly twisted.

Ginny suddenly blanched. No! This had nothing to do with fate! It was merely a coincidence that Draco Malfoy should intrude on her detention with Snape. There was nothing preordained about it.

Draco murmured something to his Head of House, who nodded with an exasperated sigh. Both then glanced towards Ginny, and she saw a small smirk flitter across the blond's lips as recognition dawned in his eyes. She scowled and clenched her hands into fists.

Snape stood up from his chair. "You will continue with the inventory while I am gone, Miss Weasley. Draco will supervise you until I return."

Ginny's first instinct was to declare that she wouldn't remain a second longer in Draco Malfoy's presence, but she swallowed back the hasty retort and simply nodded her head. Really, there was nothing else she could do unless she wanted another detention.

Snape left without a further word, leaving the two students alone together. The redhead never thought she would see the day that she would wish for the cantankerous professor's company, but so she did. Anyone had to be better than Draco Malfoy – even Snape.

Said Malfoy leaned back casually against one of the desks and considered her through dispassionate grey eyes.

"So what did you do to end up in here, Weasley?"

Ginny said nothing.

"Shall I guess?"

Again, she said nothing.

"You know, love," he drawled mockingly, "the silent treatment act really doesn't suit you."

"Don't call me 'love'!" Ginny exclaimed, swinging around on her chair and glaring at him with perhaps more heat than necessary.

"That's better," he observed with his infuriating little smirk.

Ginny closed her eyes and tried counting to ten. Unfortunately, calming rituals had never really worked for her, and she just ended up throwing her quill at him. He stared down at the quill lying near his foot and then raised amused eyes back to her face.

"Is this some sort of Weasley mating ritual? You shout and throw things, and hope that the male will find your fishwife qualities attractive so that he will become helplessly infatuated with you?"

"As if I would ever want to impress you!" Ginny retorted waspishly. "You're nothing but an arrogant pig!"

"Temper, temper. Really, Weasley, it's no wonder no guys will come near you."

"Perhaps you should take the hint, then, and follow their example."

He raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Who said I wanted to come near you?"

Ginny glared at him, her cheeks burning crimson as they always did when she got flustered. "You know I didn't mean it like that!"

"Didn't you?"

"Just what are you implying?" she growled threateningly.

"I don't know, Weasley. You do have a habit of blushing so admirably whenever we meet. It's beginning to make me a bit suspicious."

The smirk that followed this remark was enough to make her already fragile temper snap. She abruptly stood up from her chair and stalked towards him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy," Ginny spat, poking him hard in the chest with her finger. "I do not like you! In fact, I hate you, and if you even think to try your stupid games with me, I swear I'll make you wish that the only thing I had done was throw my quill at you!"

Draco calmly removed her finger from his chest, and she was surprised by the sudden shock of energy that went through her at the contact of his skin. It was then that she became aware of how close they were; so close, in fact, that she could see the different flecks of grey that made up his (she was astonished to realise) rather beautiful eyes. She had always known that he was good-looking, of course (though she only admitted this fact on her benevolent days), but Draco Malfoy from far away was nothing to the sheer masculine beauty of the blond close-up.

She was stunned, and she was infuriated. It was not fair that he should be so handsome. It was not fair that his silvery-blond locks should look far silkier than hers, and yet still manage to look so arrogantly uncared for. It was not fair that his storm-cloud eyes, set under regally arched brows, should so easily captivate and intrigue because of their darkness against a backdrop of ethereal paleness and moonlight silver. And it was not fair that despite this overt prettiness, he would never be considered effeminate. His lips were too firm, his face structure too angular and defined, and his lean, graceful body could not be described as anything but masculine. He was a boy about to become a man, and he was, she realised with some disgust, an exceedingly attractive one.

Some of her thoughts must have registered on her face, for those perfectly sculpted lips lifted into that frustrating little smirk of his, and his grey eyes glimmered with knowing amusement. He leaned forward, and she could actually feel his breath brush against her lips like the softest of kisses.

"Never gape, Weasley," he murmured, gently lifting her chin to close her mouth. "It's not flattering."

Ginny's cheeks burned, and she knew that she would be blushing terribly. She wrenched herself away from him, mortified that he had caught her gawking at him and had teased her about it, and furious with herself for even thinking him good-looking. If only he had a hunchback and a squinty eye. She would find him completely hideous if he had that. But no, he had to be perfect.

That decided it: the gods really were cruel.

It was in that moment that Snape entered the room and stopped what was becoming a humiliating tête-à-tête. Ginny could not have been more grateful for the intervention. She had not known how to respond to Draco, torn between wanting to scream at him, hex him, or simply run away and hide in her shame. It was a horrible thing to know that she found her arch-nemesis attractive, but she refused to believe that this meant Myrtle's prediction had a chance of coming true. Just because she thought Draco good-looking didn't mean that she liked him. There were plenty of boys that she found attractive at Hogwarts, and it wasn't as if she was falling over her feet for them.

Cheered by this logic, Ginny retrieved her quill and sat back down on her seat to continue working on the inventory. She couldn't help but give one last look at the blond, and immediately wished that she hadn't. He had smirked at her before he left, and now she would be stuck with that smug image for the rest of the night.

Ginny scowled. She really hated Draco Malfoy.

oOo

Harry Potter watched the Gryffindor Quidditch team practising that night with all the pride of a young man who knew his team was brilliant. Ever since his accident, he had found a new zeal for the game, though it was a passion tinged with regret. He knew he was living vicariously through his team mates' success, and that it would be months, maybe even years before he would be allowed to play again himself. It was a depressing thought, yet he could take some comfort that he was captaining the best Quidditch team in the school. If Ginny could catch the Snitch before Malfoy in the next Gryffindor versus Slytherin game, they were bound to win the House Cup.

He frowned as he realised that Ginny had still not turned up for practise. This was the third time in a row that she had done this, and he could not say that he was very happy about it. She was a good flyer, but she would need a lot more than natural aptitude to beat Malfoy.

"Where are you, Ginny?" Harry growled to himself.

"She's in detention," a dreamy voice replied, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Harry let out a yelp and turned around to see Luna Lovegood standing before him with all her usual cloud of whimsicality surrounding her.

"Luna!" he exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I did say hello," she responded with a shrug.

"Did you?"

She nodded.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled awkwardly. "I guess I didn't hear you."

"That's okay."

She turned her attention to the Gryffindors practising above them. Harry noticed that she was wearing eagle earrings that looked unnervingly alive. He was half-expecting them to start making bird noises, but the earrings stayed thankfully silent. The blonde caught him staring fixedly at the jewellery and smiled, apparently unaware of the odd appearance she made.

"They're nice, aren't they? Daddy bought them for me in my first year when I got sorted into Ravenclaw."

"That was, uh, good of him."

Luna let out a gurgle of laughter. "You think I'm strange, don't you?"

"Of course not," Harry lied bravely.

"Yes, you do," she said with another of her indefinable smiles. "I don't mind, though. I think you're strange, too."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, and she soon joined in and laughed so hard that she had to actually lean on him for support. He steadied her with his hands and smiled down into her tear-streaked face as she continued to giggle uncontrollably against him.

"You alright there?" he asked, amused.

She nodded as she finally caught her breath. "I'm fine."

A soft breeze slipped between them, and he caught the scent of apricots and sunflowers. He realised with some surprise that it must be coming from the blonde leaning against him. He wondered why it should astonish him that she should smell so pleasant, but then he supposed he had just never thought about it before. Somehow, the mixture suited Luna. It was unassuming and unique, just like her.

"You can let go of me now, Harry," Luna said with a small smile.

Harry obediently released her and stepped back to give her some room. She thanked him and turned her gaze back to the players zooming around above them in the sky. He followed her line of vision to where Neville was practising throwing the Quaffle into the three hoops while Ron tried to block them. It was so strange to think that Neville had actually proven to be quite a good Quidditch player. He still fumbled now and then when he got flustered, but he definitely had potential. Still, it was difficult to believe that Neville's amateur career as a Chaser had all started because of Myrtle's improbable prediction.

"Do you believe in destiny, Harry?" Luna asked curiously.

"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "I like to think that I have the choice to do what I like, but maybe that choice was destined to be before I even made it. I try not to think about it. I just end up in circles." He glanced down at her enquiringly. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering."

He nodded, and for a moment they both said nothing. She went back to staring contemplatively at Neville, and he just stood there with his hands in his pockets. The silence between them might have been awkward had it been any other girl, but with Luna it just seemed so natural and comfortable. It occurred to him that she was a very peaceful person. Hermione always had something to say, and being around Ginny was like walking on eggshells, but Luna always seemed so serene. He wondered if anything fazed her.

There was a shout from the players above them, and Harry glanced up to see one of his Chasers barely miss a Bludger and then score a goal past Ron. The team gave a small cheer for her success, except Ron, of course, who looked rather disappointed that he had missed the Quaffle. Harry smiled, knowing that the red-haired boy would probably complain to him later about how the Quaffle had been 'this close'.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Harry turned to see Ginny running towards them, broom in hand, while awkwardly trying to pull a jumper over her head. He couldn't help but laugh. She was so ridiculous sometimes.

"I thought you were in detention," he called.

"I think Snape got sick of me and decided to let me out early," Ginny confided with a triumphant grin as she came to a halt in front of them. "He had to go and meet some parents anyway. It seems like a bunch of Slytherin third years decided it would be funny to steal some firewhisky from Hogsmeade and get drunk. One of them was still vomiting when I left."

"Well, that wasn't very clever of them," Harry chuckled.

"I know, but then they are Slytherin. They seem to think they're above every rule and can do what they like, and that every person should just fall on their knees and worship them."

"Speaking from experience, Ginny?" Luna asked slyly.

Ginny glowered at her. "Don't you start on that, Luna! I'm not in the mood!"

"What's this?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Ginny has declared an eternal loathing for Draco Malfoy," Luna explained in her dreamy voice, "but Myrtle made a prediction that the two of them would fall in love and are destined to be together."

"Ginny and Malfoy? That's impossible!" Harry exclaimed, half laughing.

"Well, at least someone realises how ridiculous this whole thing is," Ginny muttered, still scowling at the Ravenclaw.

"Ah, but Harry hasn't seen the two of you together," Luna rejoined with a rather wicked smile for one so whimsical. "I believe that prophecy has a very good chance of coming true. It's not like you aren't attracted to him, Ginny."

Ginny went bright red in the face and wondered for a moment if Luna somehow knew Legilimency. How else could the Ravenclaw girl have possibly known that she thought the blond sinfully good-looking? Then a more horrible thought presented itself to Ginny: what if she had always been attracted to him but had just refused to accept it before?

She saw the smug look Luna was giving her, and scowled.

"Shut up, Luna," Ginny snapped, and then she turned to face Harry, who was looking rather bewildered. "How long have we got left?"

"Only about five minutes," he responded. "I don't think there's much point in practising tonight, Ginny. You'll have to catch up in your own time during the week."

She sighed. "Fine."

"Wait a minute," Harry said before she could leave. "Do you really fancy Malfoy?"

Ginny flushed. "I—"

"Wow."

"Hey! I never said anything!"

"No, but your crimson cheeks said enough," Luna interposed with frustrating helpfulness.

"That's not—I never—UGH!" Ginny glared furiously at them. "I do not like Malfoy! I never will like Malfoy, and I most certainly do not find him attractive!"

She swung around on her heel before they could say a further word and stormed back towards the castle. Some friends she had. They were supposed to be supporting her and trying to comfort her, not infuriating her by actually suggesting that she liked the stupid Slytherin boy. Which she didn't.

Ginny sucked in a deep breath. She would not dwell on it. She would continue life as normal and forget everything that had happened. Those other idiots could believe in Myrtle's ridiculous prediction, but Ginny knew that the prophecy was no more likely to be fulfilled than Goyle was of getting the top marks in a Charms test.

She entered the common room and spotted Hermione staring at the fire, looking obviously distraught. Lavender Brown, on the other hand, appeared as if she were trying desperately not to laugh.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked in concern.

"Goyle got the top marks on the Charms test," Lavender confided gleefully. "And guess what? It was Myrtle that predicted he would!"

Ginny's face drained of all colour. Now what was she going to do?

Ginny clutched her arms closer to herself as she hurried down the shadowy corridor. She wished that she had brought a cloak to wear now. It was easy to forget how cold a draughty castle could be when sitting beside a fire in the Gryffindor common room, but, chilled or not, she was determined to see Myrtle. She had to know if Draco Malfoy really was supposed to be her destiny.

An odd scuffling sound suddenly started from further up the hallway. Ginny quickly retreated into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall in an attempt to blend with the stone. She gasped in surprise as she found herself not colliding with hard concrete as she had expected, but slipping right through the wall and into a pair of strong arms. A hand quickly clamped over her mouth before she could make a noise.

"Don't move," a male voice whispered from somewhere close to her ear.

Though her first instinct was to lash out, something told her not to struggle. She relaxed as best as she could in the boy's arms and listened intently as the scuffling noise drew closer. It occurred to her that the sound was actually footsteps, and that what she thought had been a wall had in fact been a rather faded tapestry.

"Where are they, my sweet?" Mr Filch's unwelcome voice murmured from behind the material hiding the two students.

Ginny instinctively pressed herself back against the boy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by Filch. Her companion seemed to have the same idea, and he drew them both back further into the secret passage. She made no complaint and was quite content to remain in the security of his arms as she waited in tense silence for her fate. For once, Fortune seemed to be on her side, and the caretaker mumbled something about sardines and then continued his shuffling progress down the corridor.

The redhead let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The boy also relaxed, and she suddenly became aware of his arm still wrapped around her waist and the hand he had pressed against her mouth. She would be lying if she said she was not affected by his proximity, but the more rational part of her brain reminded her that she still had no idea who this person was or if he was someone whom she wanted to snuggle against, even if the cool, masculine scent he wore was heavenly. Ginny turned in his arms to face him only to stop short in horror as she took in his grey eyes and silvery-blond hair, which were unmistakable even in the dim light. She abruptly tugged his hand away from her mouth.

"Malfoy!" she growled.

"Weasley," he responded in what was almost a purr.

Her treacherous knees threatened to give out on her at the sound of that velvety voice, but she resisted the impulse to melt into a puddle at his feet. That would just be too degrading.

"You can let go of me now," she ordered sharply.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I said so, idiot!"

"And what if I don't?"

Her heart gave a funny stutter in her chest. "Well, that's just—I mean—"

Draco forced her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him, and his grey eyes gleamed wickedly. "You talk too much, Weasley."

Before she could even make a retort, his lips were suddenly pressed against hers. Ginny was too stunned to protest, and he took advantage of her submissiveness and deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. She instinctively closed her eyes, and somehow her hands found their way to his hair, and she was kissing him back with wanton abandon. There was no restraint, no hesitation – nothing but raw, unadulterated passion.

"No!" Ginny screamed in her head. "I don't want this!"

"There's no point in fighting it, Ginevra," a voice which sounded uncannily like Myrtle's told her. "This is your destiny."

"It's not! I refuse to let it be!"

Draco, who had apparently learnt to hear other people's thoughts, stepped back from her and stared at her through serious grey eyes. "But what about the children?"

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, momentarily diverted from her tirade.

"Our children, love," he said solemnly. "You can't forget the children."

"Children?" she repeated stupidly.

A small boy and girl, who looked remarkably like miniature versions of Draco and herself, suddenly appeared in front of her. Both hailed her lovingly by the name of 'Mamma' and threw their arms around her legs, hugging her tightly. She looked down into their adoring faces, her own sickeningly pale, and then her gaze drifted to the handsome blond by her side who was watching her with a sappy smile.

That was when Ginny awoke screaming in her four-poster bed.

There was much scuffling and murmurs, and then the crimson curtains were wrenched back from around her. Four faces peered down at her with a mixture of concern and frustration. Ginny immediately stopped screaming as she realised that she had been dreaming, though she still felt considerably shaken. It had all been so vivid.

"What's wrong?" one of the girls asked, taking a seat on the edge of the redhead's bed. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"Was it about the war?" a curly-haired blonde asked sympathetically.

"Worse," Ginny mumbled into her knees. "Draco Malfoy was smiling at me, and I had children!"

The Gryffindor girls exchanged startled glances.

"Oh," a short, raven-haired girl commented blankly. "How awful."

"It was horrible," Ginny continued, quite oblivious to her dorm-mates' lack of empathy. "The children were even wearing matching outfits!"

"Well, that's certainly something to scream about," the blonde muttered, rolling her eyes.

The other girls giggled at this rather sarcastic response, but Ginny ignored them. She was too consumed with horror to really pay attention to what her dorm mates were doing. This nightmare had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, and she was terrified lest it should come true because of Myrtle's prediction. No matter how much she may have reluctantly admitted that she found Draco Malfoy attractive, she had no desire to snog the blond, let alone bear his children.

There must be a way to stop the prophecy from coming true, Ginny thought desperately.

Hadn't people always said that one's future was what one made it? Why couldn't she make her own destiny, then? If Draco Malfoy really was fated to be with her, there should be no reason why she couldn't make him not want to do so through her own conscious actions. It wasn't like it was written in stone that they should be together. She still despised everything about him, and he, as far as she knew, was not particularly smitten with her. Myrtle's prediction was still just that – a prediction. If Ginny had her way that was what it would remain, too.

Ginny smiled grimly to herself. It was time destiny learnt why it was not wise to mess with an irate redhead.

oOo

Five days had passed since Ginny had suffered the dreaded nightmare. True to her word, she had gone out of her way to be particularly vicious to Draco Malfoy in the hopes of revoking the prophecy, but the infuriating blond seemed to not care in the slightest that she was being nasty to him; in fact, most of the time he just laughed at her. She couldn't understand it. Her brother could get the blond riled up so easily, yet her efforts, which were much cleverer in her opinion, only seemed to be a source of amusement to the Slytherin. He should be wishing her dead by now, but the only thing she appeared to have achieved with him was an increase in those horrible, smug smiles of his. She was quite certain that if she went crazy, it would be because of those smirks.

"If you keep clenching your quill like that, you're going to break it," Hermione commented from behind the cover of the fat tome she called 'light reading'.

Ginny resisted the urge to make a snappy retort and placed her quill with forced calm back on the table. Unfortunately, that did nothing to soothe her irritated nerves or make her forget how much she loathed Draco Malfoy. She sighed heavily and rested her chin on her hand as she stared absently at the rows of bookshelves surrounding her. She wished she could get the blond out of her head, but he and his horrible smirks refused to fade from her mind. It was like having a constant itch that she could not scratch.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, lowering the tome to reveal a pair of concerned brown eyes.

"I don't want to talk about," Ginny muttered sourly.

She knew that Hermione was the last person who she could talk to about her destiny problems. Hermione didn't believe in Myrtle's prophecies, but Ginny was uncomfortably aware of the fact that those ridiculous predictions were all coming true. No doubt the bushy-haired brunette would claim it was simply coincidence, but how many times could one make that excuse? Ginny had thought that Goyle getting top marks in the Charms test was the icing on the cake, but that was before she discovered that it had been predicted that Colin Creevey and Pansy Parkinson would become boyfriend and girlfriend – which they had.

Things were getting dangerously out of hand here, and Ginny didn't like it one bit.

A laugh from the neighbouring table caught Ginny's attention, and she glanced up to see the blond who had caused her so many sleepless nights take a seat with the group of Slytherins. She had been so caught up with her brooding that she hadn't even noticed that he had entered the library.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists and her mouth levelled into a grim line. The urge to throw something at him or just hex him with a really good curse was almost overwhelming. It infuriated her to see him lounging completely at his ease, looking as handsome and arrogant as ever, while she was continuously plagued with dread. He didn't have to worry about evil prophecies or the treacherous thoughts of his own mind. He could be happy and relaxed with not a care in the world, and she—she felt like she was on the brink of insanity.

"Ginny!" Luna exclaimed, dancing towards the redhead with her radish earrings swinging madly. "Guess what I discovered!"

"What?" Ginny muttered absently, her attention still fixed on the Slytherin sitting only a few seats away.

"If you and Malfoy have babies, they'll have pink hair!"

Ginny froze in her seat and then turned horrified eyes on the cheerfully oblivious blonde. She could see in her mind the image of those two children from her nightmare, matching clothes and all, and she suddenly felt very ill. Her wild gaze darted to Draco as the realisation of what she would have to do to get those children suddenly occurred to her, and then her thoughts strayed to those other parts of her dream – the parts that she had refused to let herself dwell on. She could feel his hand on her waist, pulling her closer, and then his handsome face was swimming before her as he lowered his lips to hers...

"NO!" Ginny screamed, standing abruptly up from her chair.

Luna blinked in shock, but the redhead was already pushing past her and levelled her blazing eyes on the Slytherin. Without even thinking of the consequences, Ginny launched herself at him, knocking them both to the ground as his chair toppled over from the impact. They struggled together for a moment, and then he managed to flip her over and pin her down underneath him.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded, all signs of amusement gone from his face.

Ginny breathed heavily as she scowled up at him, and her eyes burned with unrestrained fury. All she wanted was to make him feel her frustration, but he was making that quite impossible when he was holding her down so firmly. She struggled to break free, but this only had the unhappy effect of making him tighten his grip.

"You're hurting me," she complained while still trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

"It's no more than you deserve," he retorted coldly, but he relaxed his hold on her all the same. "Be thankful that I'm a gentleman, or I'd show you what I think of your psychotic behaviour."

She snorted. "Why don't you show me what a real gentleman you are and get off me!"

His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. "And here I thought you wanted to be close."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Just let me go, Malfoy."

"Why?" he asked with his evil little smirk.

A horrible sense of déjà vu stole over her, and her face drained of all colour as she realised that his dream-self had said the exact same thing to her before he kissed her.

"Oh, don't!" Ginny wailed in obvious distress, and she started twisting about even more desperately underneath him to break free from his hold.

Draco looked stunned by her behaviour, but before he could say anything there was a loud shriek of outrage.

"What's going on here?" Madam Pince demanded, placing her hands on her nonexistent hips and glowering down at them like a snorting rhinoceros.

The blond glanced up at the stick-like librarian in surprise, and Ginny took advantage of his distracted state and shoved him hard, sending him sprawling backwards with a groan. She quickly scrambled away from him and then made a run for it, completely ignoring Madam Pince's shouts and Luna and Hermione's shocked faces. Tears of pure frustration streamed down her cheeks as she sprinted down the hallway, and she only stopped when she was a safe distance from the library.

Ginny leant back against the wall with her eyes screwed up tight to hold back the tears that continued to flow. She wasn't even sure why she was crying, only that she was just so angry. All she had wanted was to make Draco despise her so that the prophecy couldn't come true, but then Luna had to go and say that her and Draco's babies would have pink hair, and Ginny hadn't been able to contain herself. Her only thought was to stop the prophecy, even if it meant hurting the blond to the point where he couldn't procreate if he wanted to. Of course, then he had to go and trap her underneath him and say those horrible words, which had put all kinds of treacherous thoughts in her mind. So she had panicked, and she had fled, and now she was quite certain that she would never be able to face the blond again.

"Why?" she groaned to herself, banging her head back against the wall. "Why did I have to lose my temper?"

If she had just kept her cool, none of this would have happened. Unfortunately, Ginny had not been able to restrain herself, and the prophecy that she had been trying so hard to stop now seemed even likelier to come true.

"No!" Ginny growled to herself. "I won't have it!"

She grimly wiped the tears from her cheeks and then made her way through the castle until she got to Myrtle's bathroom. Ginny thrust open the door and stormed inside with a determined expression on her face. She spotted Myrtle hovering above her favourite cubicle, droning morosely. The redhead's eyes narrowed to thin slits.

"I need you to make a new prophecy for me," Ginny demanded.

"What for?"

"Because I refuse to have Draco Malfoy as my destiny!"

"Fate doesn't work that way, Ginevra," Myrtle responded loftily. "I'm afraid you're stuck with him."

"Rubbish! I'm sure you can make a new prediction about me and put me with someone else."

"I don't see what good it would do even if I could."

"Well, obviously it would mean that I can't fall in love with Draco Malfoy because I'll be destined to be with another boy."

Myrtle gave an annoying titter. "I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this. Don't you like Draco?"

"NO!"

"Well, there's no need to shout at me," the ghost responded, drawing herself up to her full height. "And I don't see why I should do anything for you at all when you're being so rude and ungrateful."

Ginny bit back the admittedly rude retort that sprang to her lips and decided to try a different approach.

"Please, Myrtle," she begged, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture, "please make a new prediction for me. I can't bear to be with Malfoy. I'll even be happy with Crabbe or Goyle, just please not Malfoy."

"I already told you that I can't help you. You'll just have to accept it."

"Please!" Ginny cried desperately. "I'll do anything! I'll come spend every day with you to keep you company if you like, just please make a new prophecy for me."

"Do you think I can be bargained with?" Myrtle retorted with a haughty sniff. "I'm a Seer, not some cheap fortune teller to be bought!"

"Oh, Merlin, now she's putting on her airs," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Ginny said hastily. "I was, er, just saying that, um—" She gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Myrtle, why can't you just make a new prophecy for me? I'm telling you that I can't be with Draco Malfoy!"

Myrtle folded her arms and an uncannily Slytherin-like smirk spread across her features. "Is that so? Because it seems to me that the reason you're so desperate for me to make a new prophecy is because you are falling for him. You're just scared," she finished triumphantly.

"I am not scared!"

"Then prove it."

Ginny stuck her chin out defiantly. "I don't need to prove anything to you!"

Myrtle shrugged her shoulders. "Then don't. It really makes no difference to me. My prediction will still come true. They always do."

"Well, this one won't."

"I'm a Seer. Of course it will come true."

Ginny stamped her foot. "You're not a Seer! You're nothing but a stupid ghost who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are so you make horrible prophecies about them! But I won't play your game, Myrtle! Draco Malfoy is not my destiny! And I won't fall in love with him! I'd sooner fall in love with a troll!"

"I don't think very much of your taste, then."

The redhead clutched her hair and gave a strangled sort of scream. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you to deserve Draco Malfoy?"

"But don't you see, Ginevra? It's got nothing to do with me. You were the one who chose Draco Malfoy for your destiny."

Ginny pinched herself just to make sure that she wasn't having another nightmare, but the sharp sting of pain told her the sad truth. This was really happening, and Myrtle was indeed telling her that it was her own fault that Draco Malfoy was destined to be with her.

"Face it, Ginevra," Myrtle continued. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Ginny's eyes flashed. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Myrtle only cackled and then swooped down into her toilet, leaving the redhead seething alone in the bathroom. Ginny glowered at the floor where she could hear the ghost still gurgling with laughter from within the pipes. Stupid Moaning Myrtle. What did she know, anyway?

The image of Draco leaning over her in the library suddenly flashed before her eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat as she remembered how it had felt to have her body pressed up against every inch of his. He certainly wasn't a runt under those thick robes of his, though he was more slender than muscular. Not that it was a bad thing.

"Oh, my gosh!" Ginny cried in disgust. "I'm assessing Draco Malfoy's body!" She clutched her hands to her head and gave it a small shake as if to jolt the thoughts out of her head. "Don't think about it, Ginny! Think of Hagrid wearing a pink thong. Hagrid wearing a pink thong." She pulled a face. "Okay, don't think of that."

"Uh, Ginny?"

Ginny swung around and blushed fierily as she saw Hermione and Luna staring at her in some concern, though it must be noted that Luna's concern was a lot less judgemental. No doubt she enjoyed talking to herself as well.

"I thought you would be here," Luna said triumphantly. "It's about the prophecy, isn't it?"

"What prophecy?" Hermione asked, frowning. "And were you just imagining Hagrid in a pink thong?"

Ginny's blush deepened. "Uh, yeah, but that doesn't matter now. I was just trying to distract my thoughts."

"Distract your thoughts from what?" Luna asked slyly.

"I don't want to hear another word from you, Luna," Ginny snapped irritably. "Especially if it has something to do with pink-haired babies."

"Sorry," Luna replied, genuinely remorseful. "I didn't know it would have such an effect on you. You'll be pleased to know that Draco doesn't seem to be holding it against you, though. He seemed quite amused, actually."

"Amused?" Ginny cried in despair. "Does nothing bother him?"

"Well, you did run away after tackling him. I don't think anyone could take that seriously."

"Yes, about that," Hermione interposed gravely. "What on earth is wrong with you, Ginny? Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny placed her head in her hands with a groan. "Can we not talk about this now? Maybe it hasn't occurred to you, but I'm having a bit of a mid-life crisis here and would like to be left alone!"

"You can't have a mid-life crisis when you're only sixteen," Hermione argued, always a stickler for particulars.

"I don't care!" Ginny cried exasperatedly. "Just go away, Hermione!"

"Well, there's no need to be like that," Hermione responded stiffly. "I was only trying to help."

"Yeah, well, you're not helping!"

"Come on, Hermione," Luna said, taking the brunette's arm. "Let's leave Ginny to have her tantrum alone. I'm sure she'll get over it in her own time."

Ginny scowled at Luna and then glanced the other way as the two girls left without a further word. Now that she was alone again, though, she suddenly realised that she did not want to be. There was nothing to distract her thoughts now, and all she could think of was that frustratingly attractive blond who had taken such deep root in her mind.

"That's it!" Ginny declared to no one in particular. "I can't take this anymore."

And so she did what she had always done when she needed to let off some steam; she went to the Quidditch pitch and flew on her broom until she could fly no more. Everyone who saw the redhead knew to stay clear of her. It was obvious that Ginny Weasley was in one of her moods, and that to speak to her would be to incur her wrath upon them. However, Harry Potter was not afraid of said Weasley's temper and had no qualms in interrupting her solitary venting session, though it must be noted that his sense for self-preservation was decidedly under par.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted as he stared up at her from the ground. "Come down! I need to talk to you!"

Ginny glanced down to see the Gryffindor boy waving at her. She sighed and landed on the ground next to him.

"What?" she said shortly.

"Did you attack Malfoy today?"

"Don't tell me the gossip is already spreading around the castle?"

"Well, actually, it was Snape who approached me. The Slytherins in the library who saw you attack Malfoy thought you were purposely trying to sabotage their Seeker and requested you not be allowed to play on Friday."

"And what did Snape say?"

"He said—" and here Harry put on Snape's deep, acerbic voice "—Miss Weasley was more likely just having another of her tantrums. Kindly ask her to control that ridiculous temper of hers before I do decide to ban her from playing Quidditch."

"What a git!"

"But at least he's still letting you play," Harry pointed out. "Seriously though, Ginny, can you please try not to lose your temper again. I know you hate Malfoy, but we can't risk this. The game between Gryffindor and Slytherin is on Friday and if you're banned from playing, we'll have to forfeit."

"I know," she said, hanging her head. "I'm sorry, and I promise it won't happen again."

"Good," Harry replied with a relieved sigh. "Oh, and don't forget that we have a practise tomorrow evening."

"I won't forget."

"Right." He stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I don't suppose you've seen Luna around, have you?"

"Luna?" Ginny repeated, puzzled. "Why do you want to talk to her?"

"N-nothing," Harry stammered, going a bit pink in the face. "I was just wondering."

"Okay..."

Harry muttered something undistinguishable and then he quickly turned away from her and walked back towards the castle. Ginny stared at his retreating figure in some perplexity. Was it possible that Harry had a thing for Loony Luna Lovegood?

"Well, I guess stranger things have happened," Ginny mumbled, thinking of Pansy and Colin's odd relationship, which, to her at least, seemed to defy all logic.

That, of course, got her thinking about her own 'destined' love-match made by Myrtle. She sighed heavily to herself. She didn't know what to do about that, but right now she had more important things to worry about. The game that would decide the House Cup was on Friday, and to win she knew that she had to get the Snitch before Draco Malfoy. She couldn't afford to let her own feelings for the blond (which were not romantic!) distract her.

Ginny sighed again and decided to call it a night. She would just go to bed and hope that tomorrow would bring some miraculous answer to her problems. After all, she didn't exactly like the blond, and there was still the off-chance that Myrtle's prophecy might not come true. It was just a prediction. It wasn't like it had the power to make her fall in love with him. At least, she hoped it didn't.

She glanced up at the afternoon sky with a desperate expression on her face. "Please," she begged to whatever deities were listening. "Please let me find a way to get out of this. I'll do anything, just please let me find a way to stop the prophecy!"

Ginny joined her team for Quidditch practise the next evening with a heavy heart. The day had brought no new inspiration for her to escape from the fate Myrtle had predicted. Obviously, the gods were not interested in her bargains, and her sense of helplessness had not been aided by any of her friends either. Hermione thought that she was ridiculous for even feeling worried about a prophecy made by Myrtle, while Luna couldn't understand why she was so upset by the thought of having Draco Malfoy for her destiny in the first place. Harry found the whole situation amusing, and Ron had declared, though not very seriously, that if she did fall in love with Draco Malfoy, he would no longer consider her a member of his family.

Really, it was no wonder she was beginning to feel depressed. Her friends were supposed to be her support, yet they had all abandoned her to her fate and refused to see the seriousness of the situation. It was easy for them – they weren't the ones supposedly destined to bear Draco Malfoy's pink-haired children.

"What the hell are you doing, Ginny?" Harry yelled. "The Snitch just flew right past you!"

Ginny snapped out of her reverie and frantically tried to search for the glint of gold, but it had already vanished. She sighed, not even needing to be a Seer to know that she was about to receive an earful from Harry for her lapse. Just as she had predicted, Harry did indeed rant at her for daydreaming.

"It doesn't matter if this is just a practise," he cried fervently. "You have to act like this is the real thing! What if you start getting lost in your thoughts on Friday and Malfoy catches the Snitch before you?"

"I guess Slytherin will win the House Cup," Ginny replied dully.

She immediately regretted her choice of words as Harry went bright red with anger and started raving even more loudly at her. It was then that she saw the Slytherin Quidditch team stroll onto the pitch headed by the arrogant blond who was increasingly becoming the bane of her existence.

"Jerk alert!" one of the Gryffindor Beaters said loudly as he spotted the group of green-clad boys.

Ron landed beside Ginny and Harry. "Want us to get rid of them?"

"It's okay, Ron," Harry muttered. "I'll handle this."

Ginny watched as Harry walked forward to meet the blond, who was leaning casually on his broom and looking quite at home amongst the scowling Gryffindors.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Harry demanded with a decided edge to his voice. "Gryffindor has the pitch booked for this evening."

Draco smiled pleasantly. "I'm sure there's enough room for the both of us. We could even have a practise game together. What do you say?"

"Don't do it, Harry!" Ginny blurted out.

The blond shifted his attention to her, and Ginny felt her cheeks burn under his amused stare. There was a quality in his grey eyes that she did not like. He looked almost too knowing, as if he had stripped her soul completely bare and was now making himself master of its contents.

"What's the matter, Weasley?" Draco asked in a low, taunting voice. "Scared that you might lose?"

"Hardly," she scoffed.

"Then you won't mind if we join you."

"Now hold on just a minute," Harry interposed, stepping forward. "You just can't invite yourself to our practise. How do I know you're not just doing this to learn our moves?"

Draco gave a weary sigh. "Look, Potter, my team needs the practise, and obviously yours does too. Besides, I already know all your players' moves."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me," Ginny commented acidly. "I suppose you sent your little spies to watch our practises."

"Naturally, Weasley. A Slytherin has to be prepared for everything."

Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust.

"You might as well just let them play with us," Ron muttered aside to Harry. "You know they'll never leave if you don't."

"I suppose you're right," Harry agreed, if a little reluctantly. "Fine, you can share the pitch with us, Malfoy."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed angrily.

"Excellent," Draco said with a smirk. "I'll go tell my team."

Ginny turned on Harry as soon as the blond had left. "What are you doing, Harry?" she hissed. "You can't let them join our practise!"

"It's not like we haven't done it before," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, and they spent the whole time trying to hurt our Chasers so that we wouldn't be able to play properly for the real game."

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Ginny," Ron snapped. "You're only complaining because you don't like Malfoy. This is why girls should not be allowed to play Quidditch."

"What did you say?" Ginny demanded, clenching her hands into fists and taking a step towards her brother.

"Ron," Harry interposed with a frown, "don't provoke your sister, please." He turned to Ginny. "But Ron is right. If you can't get over your dislike of Malfoy and play the game, you might as well just leave the pitch now."

Ginny swallowed back her hurt and frustration. "Fine," she said in a small voice, "I'll play."

Harry took pity on her and bestowed her with a kind smile. "You'll be alright, Ginny. Just don't let him get to you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Come on, Potter," Draco called impatiently. "We haven't got all day."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment and then took his position as referee while Ginny went to stand in hers as Seeker. He blew the whistle to signal the start of the practise game, and the players immediately took to the sky. Slytherin got first possession of the Quaffle, but their triumph didn't last long as Dean Thomas snatched the ball from the Chaser's hands and flew towards the Slytherin goalposts. He managed to score, but Ginny stopped paying attention to what the other players were doing after that. Her sole mission was to capture the Snitch, and that was what she would focus on.

She could see Draco flying on his broom not too far from her, also searching for the golden ball. His eyes met hers, and the smallest of smirks flittered across his lips before he drifted closer towards her. Ginny repressed a sigh. It was just typical of him to come and pester her during a Quidditch match, even if just a practise one.

"I've been thinking, Weasley," Draco drawled as he hovered beside her, quite at his leisure.

"Really, Malfoy?" she responded with some impatience. "You surprise me. I was certain that such an act was quite beyond your mental capabilities."

He laughed. "You do have quite the waspish tongue, don't you?"

She glared at him.

"Anyway," he continued, as if she had not just been trying to turn him to stone with her eyes, "I've been thinking about your behaviour of late towards me, and I've come to the conclusion that you either must be insane or you fancy me. Though, to be fair, it could be a mixture of both."

"Is there a point to this, Malfoy?" Ginny growled, barely managing to keep her temper in check.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

He leaned forward on his broom and met her eyes steadily, his face just inches from hers. Ginny once again found herself stunned by how devastatingly beautiful he was up close. She licked her lips nervously, wondering what he would do. A slow smile curved his mouth, and he reached out as if to stroke her cheek, but then his hand closed around something near her ear.

"I do believe my team just won," Draco said smoothly.

Ginny realised with a surge of rage that he was clutching the Snitch, and that everything he had just done had been his way of distracting her so that he could grab the ball without her noticing. An overwhelming sense of humiliation swept over her.

"You jerk!" she cried furiously.

Draco laughed at her outrage, which only set her back up even more. She clenched her hands into fists, and then the blond was suddenly clutching his nose and groaning in pain.

"You punched me!" he accused thickly, looking half-astonished, half-enraged.

The redhead rubbed her knuckles with grim satisfaction. "You deserved it."

"Why you little—"

The shrill sound of a whistle caused both to glance down to where Harry was standing and looking very displeased.

"Damn," Ginny muttered.

"Looks like you're in trouble, Weasley," Draco observed, still managing to smirk even with a bleeding nose.

"Shut up!" she snapped.

He chuckled and then immediately winced in pain. Ginny couldn't help but smile at her handiwork, rather pleased that she had finally managed to put him out of joint and win the argument. She was not smiling, however, when Harry explained to her later that day that she would not be allowed to play as Seeker for the Friday match.

"But why?" Ginny whined, looking quite distressed.

"I told you that if you attacked Malfoy again you would be banned from playing."

"Oh, come on, I didn't even hit him that hard."

"It doesn't matter. You still punched him."

"No! You can't do this to me, Harry!"

"It's not up to me, it's up to Snape and McGonagall, and they both decided you should not be allowed to play."

"But this is just ridiculous! Slytherin attack us all the time before matches!"

"I know they do, but this is what the professors decided, and, to be honest, I think they have a point."

"What?"

"Everyone has noticed it, Ginny! Your behaviour towards Malfoy is completely irrational, and you're frankly too dangerous to be allowed near him."

"But I—"

"Enough, Ginny, I don't want to hear it!"

Her lip trembled, but she swallowed back the pathetic urge to cry. "Who will be replacing me?" she asked in a strained voice.

"I will be, obviously."

"You?" she exclaimed, wide-eyed. "No! You can't! What if you get hurt?"

"Well, that's a risk I'll just have to take. We don't have any more Seekers, and I won't have Gryffindor losing the House Cup over this. This is my last year at Hogwarts. I won't have my team lose."

Ginny felt guiltier than ever and could only hang her head in shame. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Are you? Because it seems to me that all you ever think about lately are Malfoy and that stupid prophecy. Honestly, Ginny, when are you going to grow up?"

Her eyes started to sting and she gave a small sniff. Harry's cold expression immediately changed to dismay, and he placed an awkward hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, Ginny," he mumbled uncomfortably. "Don't cry. You know I didn't mean it."

She shook her head as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. "No, Harry, you're right. I've been stupid, and now I've ruined things for everyone."

"I wouldn't say that."

"But I have! And now you have to play as Seeker, and you might get hit by a Bludger and turn into a vegetable or something."

"Not the most optimistic one, are you?"

She gave a weak chuckle. "Sorry. I know you probably didn't want to hear that."

"Not really."

Ginny sighed and wiped the tears away from her face. "Oh, Harry, what are we going to do? You can't play Quidditch, you know you can't, and now I can't play at all!"

"Well, maybe we can work something out with the professors. They may change their minds, you know."

But Ginny knew by the forced smile on his lips that he didn't really believe that. He knew that Snape and McGonagall were never going to let her play for the Friday match, and the worst part was that she knew it really was her fault. She had let Draco Malfoy get the better of her, and now her team would have to suffer the consequences.

"I want to be alone for a while, if that's okay," Ginny said quietly.

"Sure," Harry replied, giving her an understanding look. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

She watched him leave and then slumped back against her chair, placing her head in her hands. What a mess she had got herself into. The Gryffindors were never going to forgive her for this one, as she doubted they would appreciate why it had been imperative for her to punch Draco Malfoy in the nose.

"Well done, Ginny," she sighed. "You've successfully ruined Gryffindors chances of winning the House Cup, and it's all because you allowed Draco Malfoy to dazzle you with his stupid good looks."

Nothing could be more pathetic, and Ginny wished more than ever that she had never heard about Myrtle's prophecy. It seemed that the more she fought against it, the more her life turned to custard.

"Well, aren't you a sorry sight."

Ginny quickly removed her hands from her face and could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Draco Malfoy standing before her. The nerve of him! She was appalled to note that Madam Pomfrey had already healed his nose as well, so she couldn't even take satisfaction in admiring the bruises she was sure would have blossomed on that perfect face of his.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, rubbing away the traitor tears from her cheeks.

"I heard you're not allowed to play as Seeker for the Friday match."

"If you've come here to gloat, you might as well leave now. I'm not in the mood, and since I've already been banned from the team, it really doesn't matter anymore whether I lose my temper with you or not."

"My, my, we are touchy tonight."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You have five seconds to walk away before I hex you, Malfoy."

He held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Relax, Weasley, I have no intention of picking a fight with you. Though, you know, it really is your fault you were banned from the team."

"My fault?" Ginny exploded, standing up. "You were the one who—"

She broke off, realising the embarrassing implications of explaining just what he had done to provoke her.

"Yes?" Draco prompted, barely concealing his amusement. "I was the one who did what?"

She flushed. "You know damn well what you did."

"It's not my fault you're so easily distracted."

Ginny gritted her teeth. He was enjoying himself far too much.

"I wouldn't look so smug if I were you," she retorted waspishly. "I punched you in the nose before; I can easily do it again."

"Such violent threats. It makes me wonder just what that mother of yours taught you during your etiquette classes as a child."

"Probably a lot more than what your mother taught you."

"Oh, really?" he queried, raising an eyebrow. "Do enlighten me."

"Well, for starters, I'm not the one trying to seduce innocent girls during Quidditch practise so I can catch the Snitch."

"Seducing?" A wicked smile curled his lips. "And here I thought we were just having a friendly conversation."

Her blush deepened to a rich plum. "You know very well what I mean."

"Oh, I do," he purred, and she wondered how it was that he was suddenly so very close to her. "I'm just curious: did you punch me because I caught the Snitch before you or because you didn't get something else?"

"I—what?"

His eyes glinted with amusement as he stared down into her flushed face. "It's a simple question, Weasley. Even you should be able to answer this one."

She had been aware of a thick fog closing around her mind, but something about the smug tone of his voice jolted her back to her senses. Clarity sprang back to her with the snap of a rubber band, and she suddenly realised that she was once again being manoeuvred into a potentially humiliating situation by Draco Malfoy.

"Stop it!" she snapped, taking a step back from him.

"Stop what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Whatever it is you're doing! I want you to stop."

"Weasley, what on earth are you babbling about?"

Ginny stared at him, noting the perplexed frown on his lips. That was when it suddenly occurred to her that he was still standing exactly where he had been when she had first pulled her hands away and seen him. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes. Had she just imagined his close proximity and seductively smooth voice?

"I think I'm going insane," Ginny breathed, covering her face with her hands.

"Yes, I think you are," Draco said bluntly.

She sighed and sat back down on the seat. The power of the prophecy was clearly warping her ability to think straight when around Draco Malfoy – either that or the blond had somehow discovered the ability to move at the speed of light.

"Are you alright, Weasley?"

Ginny vaguely registered in some unbiased part of her brain that he actually sounded concerned, but hearing the question so artlessly put to her after everything that had happened that day – and by him no less – caused what little hold she had over her temper to abruptly disintegrate. She rounded on him, her eyes blazing with the wild look of an animal pushed too far.

"Am I alright?" she repeated, looking just a little unhinged. "Why the hell would I be alright? I've been banned from playing Quidditch on Friday because you decided it would be funny to provoke me with your stupid tricks, and now Harry will have to take my place and will probably be hit in the head by a Bludger or something, which will reduce him into having the cognitive powers of a cauliflower. And then everyone will hate me because I would have effectively killed Harry Potter – not that they don't hate me already because everyone knows I've ruined Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup. But that would be nothing if I could just figure out a way to stop my horrid fate from happening, but I can't. I just make it worse; I make everything worse, and you're not bloody helping by always being everywhere!"

Draco stared at her, looking rather shell-shocked by her long and impassioned rant. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

"Just go away, Malfoy," Ginny said tiredly, feeling too upset and drained to argue with him any longer. "I really don't want to deal with this right now."

His brow furrowed slightly, and she thought she saw a hint of worry creep into his eyes, but then the expression was gone and his usual smirk was back on his lips.

"Very well, Weasley. I'll leave you to brood. I only came here to see if the rumours were true anyway."

She watched him leave the library, then put her head back in her hands with a deep groan. Today was clearly not her day. Not only had she managed to get herself banned from the team, but she had practically screamed at Draco Malfoy that she was attracted to him. It was all very distressing, particularly since no amount of denial could revoke the fact that she was indeed helplessly and irrevocably attracted to the blond.

"Oh, isn't there anything I can do to stop this prophecy?" Ginny asked of the library at large.

Perhaps there was a small part of her which hoped that the books containing such ready stores of knowledge might impart some of their wisdom to her, but it was not to be. Instead, Madam Pince told her to stop making such a racket or she could leave the library.

Ginny sighed and collected her belongings. Maybe she would just go to bed. Hopefully, when she woke up this would all be a horrible dream and everything would go back to normal. There would be no prophecies, no Myrtle, and no Draco Malfoy. More importantly, she would still be playing as Seeker for the Friday Quidditch game.

"Please let something work out," she thought desperately. "I can't bear the thought of Harry getting hurt because of my stupid temper."

oOo

"I thought I would find you out here."

Harry turned and spotted Luna walking towards him. "Hi, Luna," he greeted, thrusting his hands in his pockets to keep his hands warm.

She stopped beside him and gazed out into the empty stands. "It looks so sad without all the people, don't you think?"

"What?"

"The pitch," she explained, smiling at his confusion. "Don't you think it looks sad when it's empty like this?"

"Uh . . . sure."

In truth, he'd never really thought about it before. It was just a stadium.

They both fell silent. Luna swayed gently from side-to-side, as if dancing to her own inner music. He didn't bother to question her odd behaviour; in a way, it was almost relaxing to watch her move so serenely beside him, as if she had retreated into her own calm world and was allowing him to share in that too, even if just as a spectator.

"You're going to play as Seeker on Friday, aren't you?" she asked after a moment, staring up at the starry night.

"I don't have a choice," he answered. "Our team will have to forfeit if I don't."

Luna didn't say that he was an idiot to take such a risk or claim that it was just a game as Hermione had done. Nor did she fret and get worked up about his decision like Ginny had. She simply stopped swaying and looked at him with a disconcertingly direct gaze.

"Are you scared?" she asked calmly.

"A little," he admitted.

Normally he would not have confessed to such a weakness – he was Harry Potter, after all; he wasn't supposed to get scared – but Luna had a way of making him speak the truth, even when he was too embarrassed to do so.

She nodded her head. "I see."

Harry stared at his feet. "You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

"No." He glanced up in surprise, meeting her large, smiling eyes. "I think you're just being you."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not."

Luna laughed, freely and openly as she always did. "You do amuse me, Harry."

His brow creased into a frown. Was she laughing at him?

"Don't look so troubled," Luna said with a smile, clearly deciding to take pity on him. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reached into her pocket and held out what was unmistakably an onion. "Here, this is for you."

"What's this?" Harry asked, taking the onion from her.

"It's an onion, of course," Luna responded with another laugh.

"Well, I know that, but what's it for?"

"For luck," Luna explained, as if this should have been obvious. "It'll protect you from the Bludgers."

"I, er, didn't know that onions were lucky."

"Oh, they are," Luna said airily. "Most people just prefer rat tails because of the smell that comes with onions."

Harry privately thought that he wouldn't want either the rat tail or the onion. He much preferred the Muggle tradition of using a horseshoe for luck.

"Um, thanks, I guess," Harry said, pocketing the onion and wondering where on earth he was supposed to keep it on him while he flied on Friday.

That he wanted to keep it was surprising, but the thought never even crossed his brain to throw it away. Luna may do and say some strange things, but he had come to understand that there was a purpose to her odd behaviour – even if the explanation itself was sometimes unbelievable. She was wise in her own way, and if she believed the onion would protect him, then why not try it? He had nothing to lose.

"I'd much prefer you not play, of course," Luna continued, still in her usual placid voice, "but since you must, the onion should help you. Just promise me one thing, Harry."

"What?"

"Don't try and be too brave." Her eyes, so large and enquiring, softened into a warm, silvery blue. "No one will think any less of you if you don't catch the Snitch."

"Worried about me, Lovegood?" Harry teased.

"Of course I am," Luna responded frankly. "How am I supposed to get you to kiss me if you're stuck in St Mungos with a permanent head injury for the rest of your life?"

Harry felt the skin on the back of his neck pulse with heat, which then spread to inflame his cheeks so that he was veritably glowing. He had never had a girl behave so forward with him.

The blonde smiled at his embarrassment and took a step towards him, placing one hand against his burning cheek. Their eyes met, and then her face was coming closer – so close he could discern the tiny flecks of grey that were normally imperceptible in her blue irises. His eyes slid shut, and then their lips touched and it seemed to Harry that he had never felt so alive.

Luna pulled back after a moment, a shy smile curving her lips. "I've always wanted to do that."

Harry stared at her with a stunned look on his face, hardly daring to believe that Luna – the same Loony Lovegood whom he had once thought so bizarre – had just kissed him. However, what he did know for certain was that he had enjoyed it, and he was not against repeating the performance.

He trailed his thumb down her cheek, then leaned forward and kissed her again. Luna wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss, pressing herself closer so that the warmth of her body seeped through into his. The onion in his pocket pressed uncomfortably into both of them, but neither seemed to mind.

It was a long time before Harry returned to his common room that night.

It was the day of the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Ginny had skipped breakfast that morning and gone alone to the pitch, where she now sat on the grass, hugging her knees close to her chest as she stared broodingly up at the sky. She would not be playing as Seeker, but, oddly enough, that was the least of her worries. She was far more concerned with the prophecy that had got her into this mess in the first place.

Almost two weeks had passed since she had first heard Myrtle's prediction. In that time, several of Myrtle's prophecies had been confirmed true. Pansy and Colin had started dating, Goyle had got top marks in the Charms test, Hufflepuff had won the Gobstones tournament, and Hagrid had shaved his beard and got a haircut – something Ginny was still trying to get used to. All that was left now was for her to fall in love with Draco Malfoy.

Once, this thought would have made the redhead shudder in horror, but now she felt nothing but a depressing sense of inevitably. She had tried to fight against her fate: she had denied the probability of the prediction, attempted to change its course in her anger, and she had made bargains with Myrtle and every deity that she could think of in the hopes of having it revoked. None of it had worked. The only thing that she had achieved was to get banned from playing as Seeker against Draco Malfoy.

Ginny sighed and buried her face into her knees. So much for happy endings. Her 'destiny' had caused her nothing but trouble, and the supposed prince of her fairy tale romance seemed more like a villain in her eyes, albeit a remarkably good-looking one. She didn't even have a romance, really. All she had was a silly prophecy that stated Draco Malfoy was fated to be with her, not to mention a number of humiliating encounters to go with it. If this was what falling in love was like, she didn't think much of it.

"I thought I would find you here."

Ginny looked up to see Harry standing in front of her. "What do you want?" she muttered, glancing back down at her knees.

"I have some good news for you."

"There's no such thing as good news," the redhead responded with a depressed sigh.

"Well, this is. You're allowed to play on the team again."

Ginny's eyes dated back to his in surprise. "What? But I talked to McGonagall this morning and she said—"

"They changed their minds," Harry interposed with a grin. "You're back to being Seeker."

"Why? I thought you all agreed that I was too dangerous to play against Malfoy," she said sarcastically.

"Well, it was Malfoy who got them to change their minds, actually. He went and talked to Snape and asked for you to be pardoned. He said that he had goaded you into punching him and that it wouldn't be fair to punish you for it – or something to that effect."

"He did?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"Yep. I heard it all from Neville. He was in the room serving detention at the time."

Ginny frowned and agitatedly played with her hands. "Why would Malfoy do that for me? He must have known that his team had a better chance of winning if I didn't play. No offence, Harry, but you are pretty out of practise."

"Who cares why he did it?" Harry exclaimed with a laugh. "All that matters is that you can play again, and I don't have to worry about becoming a vegetable on the off-chance that someone hits me in the head with a Bludger."

She gave a weak chuckle at his joke, knowing that he expected it of her, but inside she felt deeply confused. She could not understand why Draco would have stood up for her like that. He certainly had no reason to do so. She had tackled him, punched him, called him names and, all in all, behaved like a complete cow to him. If he was the nice type like Harry and was known for having a strong sense of justice then maybe she could understand it, but Draco was not nice, and he certainly didn't care about justice. She knew that he never bothered to go out of his way for anyone unless there was something in it for him, so why had he helped her?

"Where are you going, Ginny?" Harry exclaimed as she stood up and started walking away.

"I'm going to find Draco Malfoy!"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Harry said with a frown. "If you hit him again you'll—Hey, Ginny, are you even listening to me? Ginny!"

Ginny ignored his shouts and ran back to the castle, desperate to find the Slytherin before he headed to his team meeting. She was lucky enough to come across the blond just as he was leaving the Great Hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual.

"Malfoy!" she called, striding determinedly towards him.

Draco signalled for his friends to go on without him and then turned to face Ginny. "Hello, Weasley," he greeted her pleasantly.

"Don't you 'hello, Weasley' me," she growled, folding her arms crossly. "Why did you stick up for me like that?"

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. Harry told me that you went and got me put back on the team for the match today. Why?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters! I know what you're like! I know you never go out of your way for anyone, so why would you do that for me?"

Draco's eyes gleamed with silent laughter. "I, uh, hate to break it to you, Weasley, but I didn't actually do it for you."

Her cheeks flushed with pink. "Oh."

"You see," he continued, "I really have no desire to see Harry Potter join the permanently damaged ward at St Mungo's because one of my Beaters happened to hit him with a Bludger. Someone would be bound to blame it on me, and then I would have to deal with all the tedious consequences."

Ginny suddenly felt very stupid and wished that she was far, far away or, better yet, that the floor would simply swallow her whole. Anything had to be better than standing there in front of the handsome blond, unable to escape the humiliation of knowing that she had accused him of doing something nice for her when he hadn't even done so.

"O-of course," she stammered, blushing more deeply. "I mean, why else would you get me put back on the team? Of course it would be something selfish like that. I knew that. I was just, you know, making sure."

A ghost of a smile came to his lips, and he gently tilted her chin towards him. "Don't fret, Weasley. You're still allowed to play, aren't you?"

She looked up into his captivating grey eyes, and she could hear the alarm bells start ringing in her mind. There was something about the situation that was far too intimate for her liking, yet she found that she didn't have the strength to pull away. He slowly trailed his thumb up her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath, completely helpless to the effect he was having over her. Something flickered in those grey irises that watched her so pensively, and he abruptly dropped his hand from her face and stepped back.

"Well, I guess I'll see you on the pitch, Weasley," he said curtly.

Draco turned on his heel and walked away, and Ginny could only watch breathlessly, still lost in the tide of emotions that she had so inexplicably found herself swept up in. She wasn't sure what had just happened then, only that she felt strangely disappointed. She touched her cheek where she could still feel the warmth of his caress burning into her skin, and a small frown tugged at her lips.

"There you are!"

Ginny jumped in fright and turned to see her brother stomping towards her.

"Why weren't you at breakfast this morning?" Ron demanded. "Don't you know it's bad to play Quidditch on an empty stomach?"

"When did you become such a mother hen?" she retorted. "And, anyway, I didn't even know I was going to be playing this morning, did I?"

"Well, it's too late for you to eat anything now. The game will be starting soon."

"I know, Ron. I'm not stupid. I can read a clock."

"Right."

He stood there watching her expectantly. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Let's go then, Mother," she said dryly. "I can see that you're not going to leave me alone."

"Of course I'm not. I'm under strict orders not to let you anywhere near Malfoy."

Ginny froze in her steps and then rounded on him, brown eyes flashing dangerously. "What did you say?"

Ron paled. "I mean, uh—forget that."

"Did Harry get you to do this?"

"He may have."

"I can't believe him!" Ginny growled, clenching her hands into fists. "How dare he set you onto me like some watch dog! What did he think I was going to do?"

"Probably attack Malfoy and get yourself banned from playing again."

"For your information, Ronald, I was just speaking to Malfoy and I was very civil to him."

She didn't care to mention that Draco had also caressed her cheek, or how her heart had pounded erratically in her chest at his touch.

Ron clapped his hands with mock enthusiasm. "That's great, Ginny. Would you like a gold star for your efforts?"

"Shut up."

He grinned.

"I wouldn't look so smug if I were you," she said loftily. "I'm still not happy with you."

"Well, let's just forget about that for now. We've got a game to play, and I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to kicking some Slytherin butt."

"Now that I can agree to," she laughed, and followed him out of the castle.

oOo

Ginny was quite certain that this was the dirtiest game of Quidditch she had ever witnessed. Naturally, the students loved it. The screaming and cheers were so loud that it was almost deafening, and as Neville scored another goal for Gryffindor, the cheers became all the louder. She could practically feel the excitement in the air, but there was desperation too. For many of the players this would be their last Quidditch game at Hogwarts; it was obvious by the many fouls that were being called that they would stop at nothing to win.

"The score is eighty to sixty to Slytherin," Luna's dreamy voice echoed around the pitch. "If Gryffindor doesn't catch the Snitch now, Slytherin will win the Quidditch Cup."

Ginny glanced anxiously at the score-board and realised that Luna was right. If she didn't catch the Snitch before Slytherin scored again, Gryffindor would automatically lose the Quidditch House Cup, even if they didn't lose the game itself. She frantically searched the pitch for a sign of the little golden ball, but she could see nothing but the other Quidditch players and the violent Bludgers that buzzed through the air like rampaging bumblebees. Draco was on the other side of the pitch, watching the scene before him like a hawk. It was clear that he was not going to take any chances this time. He wanted that Snitch just as much as she did.

"Come on," Ginny muttered, still looking desperately around the pitch. "Where are you, you stupid Snitch?"

And then Ginny saw it – the sight that she had been dreading to see. Draco Malfoy was diving towards the ground, and before him was that flashing ball of gold that she had been so earnestly searching for.

She cursed under her breath and urged her broom after him, inwardly bemoaning its slow speed compared to the blond's Firebolt. She knew that there was no way that she would make it in time. Draco was already closing in on the Snitch, but then a Bludger came out of nowhere and nearly hit him in the face, making him pull back abruptly. Ginny suddenly found herself beside him, and then they were neck-and-neck, elbows bumping against each other as they chased after the Snitch. Draco had the advantage of being on the faster broom, but Ginny's petite build and quick manoeuvrability came in handy when the little golden ball decided to sharply change directions. It was a close match.

The cheering of the crowd grew louder as the two rivals drew closer to the Snitch. Draco stretched out his hand, and Ginny knew in that split-second that there was no way she would be able to get it before him with her stumpy little arms. So Ginny did something very stupid indeed; she let go off her broom and threw herself towards the Snitch, just managing to close her hands around the walnut-sized ball before the blond did. However, since she was no longer on her broom, she also started to fall. Very quickly.

Ginny let out a panicked scream, and then strong arms suddenly encircled her waist, and she and her rescuer both lurched dangerously forward as he struggled to pull her onto his broom. There was a loud gasp of horror from the crowd, and then he finally managed to yank her up beside him, much to the relief of the redhead. She had no desire to become a Gryffindor pancake.

"Why, I believe that Ginny Weasley has caught the Snitch, and Draco Malfoy has caught her!" Luna's magically magnified voice announced in astonishment.

Draco and Ginny stared at each other, both breathing heavily after their recent exertions. The Snitch fluttered out of Ginny's open hand and flew past her face, though she paid no attention to it. Even the noise of the crowd seemed to have dimmed.

"You're a real idiot, you know that?" Draco muttered, glowering down at her.

"Well, it worked didn't it!" she retorted defensively, not wanting to admit that he was right. "I did get the Snitch before you!"

"Yeah, and if I hadn't caught you, you'd be decorating the pitch with your dead body right now."

"Like the teachers would have really let me die," she scoffed. "Someone would have stopped my fall even if you didn't."

"I see," he said coolly. "Well, perhaps I should let you go right now then, since you obviously don't need my help."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

She met him glare for glare, and then she gave a short laugh. "Oh, I see what this is. You're just angry because I got the Snitch before you!"

"No, you stupid girl, I'm angry because you're so thick in the head that you almost got yourself killed over a Quidditch game! What kind of mental throws herself off a broom while twenty feet in the air?"

"So it was a dumb thing to do – big deal! I don't see why you care so much anyway!"

"I care because—"

He broke off abruptly and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

"Because of what?" she demanded.

"Forget it," he muttered. "I'm taking you back."

"Oh, no you don't!"

Draco ignored her and set his broom into motion, making her nearly topple off again. Ginny quickly clutched at his robe to steady herself, and then he landed them safely back on the ground. He dismounted and waited in silence for her to get off the broom. She stepped off with a huff, but she was in no mood to let him get away with saying nothing, and was all ready to continue pestering him about his unspoken words when the Gryffindor team suddenly came bounding up to her and swept her up into their arms. It was impossible to make herself heard over her teammates' shouts of elation, so she had no choice but to let herself be carried away from the blond.

She turned her head to look back at Draco, who was still standing by his broom and watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Their eyes met, and she again wondered what he had been about to say, but then the crowd thickened around her and she lost sight of the Slytherin boy.

He had gone by the time she got another look.

oOo

The Gryffindor common room was very rowdy that night. Everyone was celebrating their victory over Slytherin and winning the Quidditch House Cup – everyone, that is, except Ginny. She could not get her conversation with Draco out of her head, and she wished she knew what he had been going to say. It just didn't make sense. He didn't make sense. Why had he got so angry at her, and why did she even care if he had?

Someone thrust a bottle of butterbeer in her face, and she glanced up to see her brother grinning down at her.

"Come on, Ginny, you can't keep brooding to yourself in the corner like this. You should be celebrating! You won us the Quidditch House Cup."

"I am celebrating," Ginny said defensively.

"No you're not. You look about as cheerful as Moaning Myrtle, and I haven't seen you say so much as two words to anyone. Now what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"Then why are you sulking in the corner?"

"I'm not sulking!"

"Yes you are."

"Oh, just go away, Ron," Ginny snapped tiredly. "I don't want to have this conversation with you right now."

"Fine. Enjoy your corner."

"I will."

He rolled his eyes and left her to join the rest of the celebrating Gryffindors. Ginny scowled at his retreating figure. Her stupid brother never did know when to mind his own business, though she didn't care to admit that the real reason she was so annoyed was because he had been right. She was sulking, and she knew it, but that didn't mean he had to call her out on it.

Ginny sighed and stared down at the bottle of butterbeer in her hands. By rights she should be happy. She had finally caught the Snitch before Draco just as she said she would, but the victory seemed rather empty now. All she could think of was how furious the blond had looked after he had rescued her. Even when she had punched him in the face and called him horrible names, he had never looked at her with such open rage. It was unnerving, for she was used to him being so controlled and amused around her, yet there had been none of that then. He hadn't even smirked at her.

She shook her head in exasperation, wondering for what seemed the hundredth time why it should matter to her anyway. She hated his horrible smirks; she should be happy that she had finally succeeded in getting him to stop with them. But she wasn't. In fact, at that moment she would have given anything to have seen him walk towards her in all his smirking glory. It was a very unsettling realisation, especially since she knew that there was no rational reason for her to be upset that he had got angry at her in the first place. After all, wasn't it this same anger that she had been hoping to inspire when she had tried to stop the prophecy?

"Sweet Merlin," Ginny breathed as certain things fell into place in her mind. "That's it!"

She abruptly stood up from her chair and made her way to the portrait hole, completely ignoring the Gryffindors who tried to congratulate her again for catching the Snitch. Hermione was not so easily dismissed, however, and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Where are you going, Ginny?"

"I need to speak to Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Hermione repeated. "What on earth for?"

"I think I'm in love with him."

Ginny didn't wait to see what reaction her words would create and exited the common room before anyone else could try to stop her. It wasn't quite past curfew yet, so she knew she had a good chance of finding the blond, and find him she knew she must. She decided to try the dungeons first, since she knew his common room was situated somewhere down there, but it proved to be a lot more difficult than she had initially thought. The place was like a maze.

She let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against the stone wall, hugging her arms close to herself as she fought back the cold that seemed to constantly reside in the draughty dungeons. Suddenly the stone wall moved from behind her, and she jumped backwards in fright to see Gregory Goyle staring at her in blank astonishment with a half-eaten muffin in his hand.

"You!" Ginny exclaimed latching onto his arm with a delighted smile. "You can help me!"

He swallowed his food and looked at her a little nervously. "What do you want?"

"I need you to get Draco Malfoy for me. Can you do that?"

Goyle blinked stupidly. "You want Draco?"

"Yes!"

"Uh, okay."

He went back into what she assumed was the Slytherin common room. She tried to peep in to get a glimpse of what their common room looked like, but the wall slid shut as soon as he had passed through the doorway. Ginny scowled and resigned herself to waiting outside. When the seconds turned to minutes, she started pacing up and down and threw anxious glances at the stone, which still refused to move. She hoped that Goyle hadn't forgotten to tell Draco that she was waiting. Or what if he had told and the blond simply didn't want to see her?

A new wave of anxiety swept over her. She was half tempted to flee back to her own dormitory and forget all about her determination to see the Slytherin boy when the wall suddenly opened and she found herself meeting a pair of questioning grey eyes.

"Weasley," Draco said coolly. "You wanted to see me?"

Ginny swallowed against the sudden lump that blocked her throat. "Um, yes?"

She hadn't meant it to come out like a question, but it was becoming increasingly hard to be bold when she was feeling so nervous.

"Well?" Draco prompted as the wall slid shut again behind him. "What is it?"

She shifted awkwardly on her feet and stared down at her hands as her cheeks began to glow with embarrassment. It had suddenly occurred to her how impossible it was for her to tell Draco Malfoy that she thought she was in love with him, especially after everything that had happened between them. He would probably think she was crazy, and he would be right.

Draco sighed and took a step towards her. "Ginevra."

She glanced up in surprise. He had never called her by her first name before.

"I am not going to stand here freezing my arse off for you while you try to decide what it is you want to say to me." She saw his eyes soften just a fraction, and the faint traces of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Just spit it out, why don't you?"

"I—"

"Yes?" he murmured, taking another step towards her.

"Today, on the broom, what were you going to say to me?"

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her with just a hint of impatience. "Does it really matter?"

"It matters to me."

Draco sighed again. "Always so stubborn."

"You said that you cared if I was hurt," Ginny persisted, ignoring his comment. "Why? Why should you care about anything that happens to me?"

He considered her for a moment, and then he closed the distance between them and placed his hands on either side of her face as he looked gravely down into her eyes.

"I care because even though I'm quite certain that you're the most psychotic wench I've ever met, I can't bear the thought of not having you near me."

"O-oh," she stammered, flushing a light pink.

"Yes, love," he murmured as he tilted her face up more towards his, "and now I am going to do something that I have been wanting to do for weeks."

She stared breathlessly into his intense gaze, her heart pounding erratically in her chest, and then he was lowering his face to hers and her eyes slid shut. Their lips touched, soft at first, and then the kiss grew more insistent as each discovered the need to express the passion they felt for each other. It was so deep and intimate that it almost made Ginny's heart ache with the beauty of it all. She knew that this was more than just a kiss: this was love.

Draco slowly pulled his lips away and smiled down into her still closed eyes. "Our ancestors would be rolling in their graves right now."

"Why do you say that?"

"A Malfoy and a Weasley in love? It's unheard of."

Ginny thought of Myrtle's prophecy and a small smile came to her lips. "No, not unheard of. Just fate."

He looked a bit puzzled by her comment, but he said nothing and simply held her in his arms. Ginny sighed contentedly and closed her eyes as she leant against him. Neither of them noticed the ghost who watched them with a satisfied grin on her face.

oOo

A week had passed since the final Quidditch game between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Most of the students were used to seeing Draco and Ginny together now, though Ron still had difficulty breathing whenever he saw the blond touch his sister. However, considering his over-protective behaviour with her previous boyfriends, most agreed that there had been a definite improvement. Even Ginny was impressed that he hadn't made any threats of castration yet.

Harry and Luna sat together in the library and watched the red-haired boy walk towards them, followed by a very smug looking Hermione.

"Have you heard?" Ron demanded by way of greeting.

"Heard what?" Luna responded, staring interestedly up at him.

"Myrtle's predictions were all bollocks. Just heard it from Nearly Headless Nick. Apparently, she was tired of being overlooked by everyone so she pretended to be a Seer to give herself a bit of importance. Of course, Dumbledore eventually found out what she was doing and took her to task. That's why she hasn't been speaking to anyone. She's too busy sulking."

"I told you!" Hermione declared triumphantly. "I told you she wasn't a real Seer!"

"But then why did all her predictions come true?" Harry asked with a frown. "I mean, they weren't exactly the most probable of events."

"People will believe what they want to believe," Hermione stated in her usual know-it-all way. "Take Neville, for example. He heard that Myrtle predicted he would get on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Chaser, so he naturally believed that he would. The prophecy essentially gave him the confidence he needed."

"And what about Ginny?" Harry responded. "I don't think she wanted to believe that Malfoy was her destiny."

Hermione shrugged. "I expect she was so concerned with not falling in love with him that she inevitably did."

"Do you think we should tell her?" Ron asked, glancing across the room where Ginny and Draco where chatting together. "I mean, since Myrtle is a fraud and all, she doesn't have to be with Malfoy now."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Luna said in her dreamy way. "Myrtle may have made up her predictions, but who's to say they weren't still destined to happen? I don't think we should say anything to Ginny. She's happy with Draco."

Since the redhead in question chose this moment to start ranting at her boyfriend, the irony of this statement was not lost on the three Gryffindors.

"Well, she normally is," Luna amended with a laugh.

Ron sighed in resignation. "I suppose you're right." He looked back at Ginny and shook his head. "I just wish it wasn't Malfoy."

"Ah, but that's the thing. You can't choose who you'll fall in love with. It just happens." Luna smiled dreamily up at the raven-haired boy beside her. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Of course," Harry replied, taking her hand in his and returning her smile.

It may not be written in the stars, but even he knew there were some things that were just meant to be.