Disclaimer: JK Rowling created this world. I just wreak havoc in it.

Chapter 3



"Wow, Ginny! That’s so exciting!” Hermione was ecstatic at Ginny's news of being invited to Snape's Advanced Potion class. Apparently, Hermione was planning on taking the class the following year when she could properly fit it into her schedule.

Ron congratulated his younger sister on her accomplishment.

“I still have to study for the Potions OWL on my own though.”

“I can help you study,” Hermione said excitedly.

“Uh, thanks, Hermione. I’ll let you know if I need any help.” Ginny was grateful for the offer, however Hermione’s version of studying didn’t quite suit her. She was sure that Colin would keep her informed of what was going on in Potions so she didn’t have to spend hours on end with Hermione going over completely useless pieces of information.

Colin had just entered the common room at that moment and Ginny excused herself to inform him of the recent news. She wasn’t sure how he would take it, as they had been potions partners since their first year.

“Well,” he sighed after she had informed him of her decision, “it was only a matter of time, I suppose. I really am glad for you, Gin. But I don’t know how I’ll get through Potions this year without you.”

“We can still study together. I’ll still need to know what’s going to be on the Potions OWL.”

He nodded and smiled. “So, has Malfoy come up with any information yet?”

She shook her head. “We only asked him this morning. A little anxious are we?” she grinned and Colin blushed slightly. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Malfoy was the one overseeing my detention and...”

Ginny told Colin about her detention with Malfoy and what she had done to him. She told him about how Malfoy was supposed to meet a Ravenclaw girl (she had mentioned this with a little too much irritation in her voice she realized after she saw the odd look Colin gave her) and how she had dumped the potion on his lap. By the time she finished telling her story she and Colin were in tears again.

“You know, Gin,” Colin said still trying to control his laughter, “if I didn’t know any better I would have thought you did that out of jealousy.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied as her own laughter died down. “Why would I be jealous?”

Colin shrugged and said, “I don’t know,” but something in his eyes told Ginny that he wasn’t telling her something. She decided to let it go for now as she realized that she had felt jealous. Some days Colin knew her a little too well.

As she returned to her dormitory her thoughts lingered on the fact that she had been jealous. There was no reason for her to be jealous. It wasn’t as if she even liked Malfoy. Sure, he was attractive; there was no denying that. He was well aware of it, too. But, really, what else was there to like? He was a pompous, conceited, irritating, self-important, pretentious son-of-a-Death-Eater! There was nothing to like there at all, even if he was gorgeous.


Draco entered the Slytherin common room with the intention of going straight to bed. But when Blaise Zabini spotted him coming through the entrance he changed his mind. He needed to speak with Blaise anyway, though he still wasn’t sure how he was going to bring up the subject.

“Back a bit early, aren’t you? Thought you were meeting up with Marietta this evening.”

“She wasn’t quite as satisfying as I hoped she would be,” Draco answered dismissively. He wasn’ t really in the mood to discuss his rendezvous that had gone terribly wrong.

“I see.”

“Blaise,” Draco started, not even knowing how he should continue. “Can I ask you something?”


“I, uh, was asked by...uh...someone...I mean...someone I know wanted to know if...” Draco was becoming flustered. He had no idea how to even ask Blaise about his preference.

“Are you quite all right?” Blaise looked at him in concern. Draco wondered if it might be easier to ask if he was seeing anyone.

“Yes, fine,” he said regaining his composure. “This person I know wanted to know if you were...uh...seeing anyone in particular.”

Blaise gave him a look of interest. “Really? And who might this person be?”

Draco didn’t know how to tell him Colin Creevey had a crush on him. He was supposed to be discreet about it, but he had already gotten flustered once and it was very unlike him to become so.

“I can’t tell you who. Not right now, anyway.”

“Well, that’s hardly fair, is it?” Blaise looked rather amused.

“Probably not. So are you seeing anyone or not?” Draco was ready to get the information he needed and get this conversation over with.

“If I tell you, will you tell me who wants to know?”

“I told you I couldn’t tell you.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Well, I suppose a hint wouldn’t hurt. Though I doubt you’d figure it out anyway. I never even thought – well, that’s beside the point. So?”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone, yet,” Blaise answered smiling. “I haven’t exactly found anyone who is my, uh, type.”

Draco was disappointed. He had hoped he was seeing someone, at least then he would know if Blaise was gay or not. He decided to work with what he could.

“So, what is your type anyway? I’ve never really seen you with any girls. In all the years we’ve known each other you haven’t really dated.” Draco just realized that he probably answered his own question. Colin Creevey was right. How could he have possibly let this slip past him all these years?

“You really want to know?” Blaise asked him. Draco wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded his head anyway.

“I like blonds,” he said grinning. Then he looked at Draco and frowned slightly.
Remembering that he had promised a hint, Draco decided to tell him the person who wanted to know was blond. At first Blaise appeared to be euphoric over this information and then again he looked and Draco and frowned. He grabbed Draco’s hand.
“When did you know?” he asked gently, looking intently into Draco’s eyes. It was exactly at this point that the potion that was dumped on him had finally worn off. Had he known what Ginny had done earlier he would have realized that all the potion did was create delayed reaction. What he should have been feeling earlier with Marietta he was suddenly feeling now.
This can’t be happening, Draco thought. He was utterly grateful he had decided to lay his books on his lap. Thankfully, there was no one else in the common room.
He yanked his hand away from Blaise to readjust his books feeling highly uncomfortable at what had suddenly happened.
“What do you mean?” he said a little harshly.
“Look, I have to tell you something. I hope it doesn’t ruin our friendship, because I really do value you as a friend, but just as a friend,” he emphasized.
Draco was relieved to hear they were just friends, but was suddenly very confused as to what just happened.
“I hope you don’t take offense to this, Draco, but, frankly, you aren’t my type. But I’m sure there is someone out there for you!”
Draco wanted to run screaming from the room. In fact, he would have done so had it not been for his little problem.
“What are you talking about?” he said a little aggravated now.
“I though that...the way you were going on about Marietta not being satisfying and someone being interested who is blond and - ”
“I’m not gay, Blaise,” Draco said firmly. But a small part of him (or perhaps not so small) didn’t seem in agreement with that statement. And what the hell was it with everyone believing he wasn’t their type?
“Oh,” Blaise said, disappointment evident in his voice, but also a bit of relief.
“What the hell were you going on about?”
“Well, you might as well know. You may not be gay, but I am,” he said resolutely.
“Then why wouldn’t I be your type?” Draco just couldn’t get over the indignity of not being someone’s type. Twice in one day he was told this. Twice! It was insulting. Draco Malfoy was everyone’s type.
Blaise started laughing. “You don’t need to sound so offended. First of all, you aren’t gay. Second of all, well, you’re a bit full of yourself.”
Draco snorted. “Some friend you are.”
“Come on, don’t be that way. But we are still friends, right?” Blaise appeared suddenly unsure of himself.
“Course.” Draco found it odd that hearing the truth wasn’t so bad.
“Wait a tick, if you aren’t gay, then who is this blond that’s interested in me?”
“I’m not supposed to say,” he said frowning.
“So there really is someone?”
“So, is this person my type?” Blaise was smiling again.
“I don’t know,” Draco said testily. “But I’m apparently not his type either so you two are a probably a perfect match.”
Blaise laughed again. Draco snorted in slight irritation.
“I think we need find you someone now. It’s pretty bad when you’re getting jealous of me. It’s getting late, I’m off to bed now,” Blaise said yawning. “Good night.”
“Night,” Draco replied moodily still sitting in the chair with his books on his lap.
“Are you coming up?”
“I’ve got a little more homework to do,” he lied. Blaise nodded and continued to the dorms. Draco was still waiting for his problem to go away. He concentrated on things that would turn him off.
Half an hour later he walked up the stone steps to the dorm rooms wondering why the hell his body reacted the way it did when Blaise grabbed his hand, especially after failing with Marietta. He wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. He was positive he woke up this morning straight. He was going to have to discuss this with his Headhealer.

His thoughts turned to the damned photograph Weasley was blackmailing him with, the one he was sure was fake. Or was it? He tried remembering that night again.
It had been after the start of the term Feast. Several fifth through seventh years had gathered in a series of rooms in the northern tower that appeared to have not been used in several years. It was mostly Slytherin, but there were a few from Ravenclaw as well, but only those expressly invited. A few of the seventh year Slytherins had been able to sneak in several bottles of fire whiskey and various other alcoholic beverages.
Draco had quite a few shots of fire whiskey. He remembered that much. He had gone between being angry with his father for being put in Azkaban to laughing wildly about some stupid joke Goyle had come up with. He had to have been drunk to be laughing at one of Goyle’s jokes. He vaguely remembered finding a smaller room with a couch in it. He couldn’t remember anything else at all.
He wondered how Creevey had gotten into the party, as he was sure that he was the one who had taken the photo. And Weasley had to have been there too. Creevey would never have the bollocks to do something so dastardly on his own. Weasley, however, didn’t seem to be as innocent as everyone thought she was. She must have taken Potter’s invisibility cloak. But how had she managed to get him to kiss Crabbe? He had looked straight at the camera, how had he not known they were there? She had to have altered it somehow. He’d heard such things could be done, but he had no idea how.
Earlier in the day he’d come up with an idea on how to get her back. He planned on getting pictures of her in a compromising position. Give her a dose of her own medicine. He just didn’t know quite how, yet. It was too bad he didn’t have an invisibility cloak and camera of his own. He could only imagine the trouble he could cause. He’d start off in the girl’s showers. Weasley showering, now that would be a compromising photo.
There, he thought happily. Now that was a truly hetero thought, even if it did contain a Weasley.
He drifted off to sleep and was only slightly disconcerted that his thoughts kept drifting back to Ginny Weasley in the shower.

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