The absolute stillness of the dungeons proved oppressive in short fashion, so Draco pulled on his heaviest wool cloak and headed outside. His eyes narrowed as he pushed open the heavy doors and saw all the happy activity taking place. A lively snowball fight between a gaggle of Gryffindors. Ravenclaws building snow forts. And of course the Hufflepuffs were responsible for the small colony of snowmen with stick wands.
Draco belonged to none of these groups – not that he would have participated in any of these ridiculous activities anyway – so he tugged his Slytherin scarf tighter around his neck and walked past them all, grey eyes fixed on a point in the distance.
No one spoke to him, and he did not deign to make eye contact with any of his fellow students, so he failed to notice the pair of big brown eyes that had widened with surprise at his appearance outside. Those eyes followed him as he strode past the group of students and disappeared down a small hill, and those eyes began to glint with mischief as a plan was formulated.
Draco had no destination in mind as he headed away from the castle, but he found it surprisingly pleasant to walk in the snow, feeling it at first resist, then give way under his boots. After he could no longer hear the giggles and yells of other students, he stopped. Standing very still, he realized that he almost felt … peaceful. No Pansy. No distractions. Nothing to bother him.
He was shocked out of his contemplation by a thump, followed immediately by dull pain and a wet trickle down his neck. What? he thought frantically, reaching a gloved hand to the back of his head, where something had struck him. He gingerly probed the area, and when he brought his hand back to see if he was bleeding, his fingers were covered in a moist white substance he was very familiar with. Snow? Now he was furious. Someone had thrown a bloody snowball! At his head!
He whirled around to face the offender and stared at the figure before him.
Ginny Weasley? With a smirk on her face? Draco wondered if perhaps he’d walked farther than he’d realized and had stumbled into an alternate universe, where Weasels had spines, threw snowballs and smirked at him.
He groped frantically for his composure, the unpleasant sensation of snow trickling down his back greatly hampering his efforts, and managed only to stutter, “What the hell are you playing at, Weasel?”
“Hello, Malfoy,” Ginny said calmly, trying to fight the giggle that was threatening to escape. She was sure no one had ever seen Draco Malfoy look like this before, dumbstruck, completely out of his element, with an enormous chunk of snow sticking to the back of his head, silvery blond hair plastered crazily to his scalp.
The dumbstruck look was fading fast, though, and she could tell that he would momentarily regain himself and get all Malfoy-ish on her. In the next second, she saw a furious glare appear on his face and a pale hand dipped inside his cloak.
She had to act quickly, or he was going to hex her. Lightning-fast, Ginny reached into her own cloak, pulled out an object, and whipped it straight at Draco’s face.
He pulled his wand out of his robes and opened his mouth to curse her just as the snowball hit him. And instead of the “Rictusempra!” he had planned, what came out of Draco’s mouth instead was “Mmph!” (And a lot of snow.)
This time, Ginny couldn’t hold in her giggles. Snow was dripping down his forehead, clumped in his eyelashes, and he was spitting it out in clumps, having had the misfortune to open his mouth at just the wrong moment. The giggles turned into a belly laugh, and while Draco reached into his cloak again, this time withdrawing a monogrammed handkerchief with which to wipe his face, she sank down to the ground, laughing hysterically.
Before, Draco had been surprised that the little girl Weasel had dared to throw a snowball at him. He was very nearly shocked that she was not afraid when he whirled around to confront her. But he was absolutely flabbergasted that not only were her reflexes quick enough to react before he could draw his wand, but that she had the absolute gall to throw another snowball. At his face.
And now she was laughing at him. He finished cleaning the wet mess from his face and leveled a glare in her direction. She managed to bring her fit of laughter to a choking halt and meet his eyes, which had become a stormy gray as his expression darkened.
“Why did you do that?” he hissed. He had no intention of cursing her now – he just wanted an answer, had to know what the thought process was that had led to her actions. He expected her to tell him it was because of his repeated insults to her brother and the rest of her poor, redheaded family. Draco could have understood an answer like that. He would have sneered at her foolish, misplaced Gryffindor bravery, but he would have understood.
“Well?” His tone was impatient now. The little wench would answer him.
Ginny stood up, not bothering to brush the snow from her cloak, never taking her eyes from his face. She chose her words carefully; after all, this was an important moment. This was the opportunity she had waited for, and there might not be another. After an infinitesimal pause that seemed to last for an hour, she answered him, her tone soft and sure.
“I did that,” she said, “because I wanted you to see me.”
His mouth opened again, but Draco Malfoy had nothing to say. He simply stared at the snowy figure who had surprised him yet again. She brushed her fiery hair behind her ears as she watched him, steadily meeting his startled gaze.
He might have found words, but the silence was broken by Ginny’s name being called.
Her head whipped around toward the sound and she uttered a muffled curse. She looked back at Draco quickly, shot him a quick smile and ran back toward the hill.
As she walked quickly up the short incline, Draco saw another figure appear.
“There you are.” It was the same voice that had called her a moment ago, and Draco’s eyes narrowed as he recognized it.
Potter.
***
Ginny’s face was flushed red as she scrambled up the hill toward Harry. Damn, damn, damn, she thought furiously. Of all the moments for Harry to interrupt, not that one! What might Draco have said, if given time?
She hadn’t known what she was going to do when she’d separated from the other Gryffindors and followed him. And when he’d stopped so suddenly, just standing there, he’d looked so sad. It wouldn’t do to just talk to him – he’d sneer at her and issue one of his scathing taunts. She had to do something unexpected.
And then she’d remembered the snowballs in her pocket. A secret smile spread over her face as she mentally replayed the event … and then she realized Harry was talking to her.
“… doing out here, Gin?”
“Huh? Oh.” Stupid, stupid. Pay attention! Answer him, or he’ll know something’s up. Did he see Draco? “We were having a snowball fight, and I, um, I wanted to find a hiding place. You know, so I could have the element of surprise.” Did he see me with Draco?
Harry was smiling down at her, and she quickly deduced that he hadn’t seen anything. Change the subject, Ginny!
“So how was your meeting with Professor McGonagall?”
The smile slipped from his face and his eyes lost their sparkle. “Fine,” he said, his words clipped.
Ginny arched an eyebrow. “Sorry I asked.”
He turned to her then, and his face was stricken. “I’m sorry, Ginny, I didn’t mean …”
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s none of my business, anyway.” And she didn’t care. She’d just needed to distract him so she could gather her thoughts. But the pretense was too much to keep up, and Ginny found that she didn’t much care if she was being rude.
She veered away from his side with a sudden movement, quickening her pace as she hurried toward the steps of the castle.
Harry watched her go, much like Draco had, but she didn’t smile back at him.
Draco belonged to none of these groups – not that he would have participated in any of these ridiculous activities anyway – so he tugged his Slytherin scarf tighter around his neck and walked past them all, grey eyes fixed on a point in the distance.
No one spoke to him, and he did not deign to make eye contact with any of his fellow students, so he failed to notice the pair of big brown eyes that had widened with surprise at his appearance outside. Those eyes followed him as he strode past the group of students and disappeared down a small hill, and those eyes began to glint with mischief as a plan was formulated.
Draco had no destination in mind as he headed away from the castle, but he found it surprisingly pleasant to walk in the snow, feeling it at first resist, then give way under his boots. After he could no longer hear the giggles and yells of other students, he stopped. Standing very still, he realized that he almost felt … peaceful. No Pansy. No distractions. Nothing to bother him.
He was shocked out of his contemplation by a thump, followed immediately by dull pain and a wet trickle down his neck. What? he thought frantically, reaching a gloved hand to the back of his head, where something had struck him. He gingerly probed the area, and when he brought his hand back to see if he was bleeding, his fingers were covered in a moist white substance he was very familiar with. Snow? Now he was furious. Someone had thrown a bloody snowball! At his head!
He whirled around to face the offender and stared at the figure before him.
Ginny Weasley? With a smirk on her face? Draco wondered if perhaps he’d walked farther than he’d realized and had stumbled into an alternate universe, where Weasels had spines, threw snowballs and smirked at him.
He groped frantically for his composure, the unpleasant sensation of snow trickling down his back greatly hampering his efforts, and managed only to stutter, “What the hell are you playing at, Weasel?”
“Hello, Malfoy,” Ginny said calmly, trying to fight the giggle that was threatening to escape. She was sure no one had ever seen Draco Malfoy look like this before, dumbstruck, completely out of his element, with an enormous chunk of snow sticking to the back of his head, silvery blond hair plastered crazily to his scalp.
The dumbstruck look was fading fast, though, and she could tell that he would momentarily regain himself and get all Malfoy-ish on her. In the next second, she saw a furious glare appear on his face and a pale hand dipped inside his cloak.
She had to act quickly, or he was going to hex her. Lightning-fast, Ginny reached into her own cloak, pulled out an object, and whipped it straight at Draco’s face.
He pulled his wand out of his robes and opened his mouth to curse her just as the snowball hit him. And instead of the “Rictusempra!” he had planned, what came out of Draco’s mouth instead was “Mmph!” (And a lot of snow.)
This time, Ginny couldn’t hold in her giggles. Snow was dripping down his forehead, clumped in his eyelashes, and he was spitting it out in clumps, having had the misfortune to open his mouth at just the wrong moment. The giggles turned into a belly laugh, and while Draco reached into his cloak again, this time withdrawing a monogrammed handkerchief with which to wipe his face, she sank down to the ground, laughing hysterically.
Before, Draco had been surprised that the little girl Weasel had dared to throw a snowball at him. He was very nearly shocked that she was not afraid when he whirled around to confront her. But he was absolutely flabbergasted that not only were her reflexes quick enough to react before he could draw his wand, but that she had the absolute gall to throw another snowball. At his face.
And now she was laughing at him. He finished cleaning the wet mess from his face and leveled a glare in her direction. She managed to bring her fit of laughter to a choking halt and meet his eyes, which had become a stormy gray as his expression darkened.
“Why did you do that?” he hissed. He had no intention of cursing her now – he just wanted an answer, had to know what the thought process was that had led to her actions. He expected her to tell him it was because of his repeated insults to her brother and the rest of her poor, redheaded family. Draco could have understood an answer like that. He would have sneered at her foolish, misplaced Gryffindor bravery, but he would have understood.
“Well?” His tone was impatient now. The little wench would answer him.
Ginny stood up, not bothering to brush the snow from her cloak, never taking her eyes from his face. She chose her words carefully; after all, this was an important moment. This was the opportunity she had waited for, and there might not be another. After an infinitesimal pause that seemed to last for an hour, she answered him, her tone soft and sure.
“I did that,” she said, “because I wanted you to see me.”
His mouth opened again, but Draco Malfoy had nothing to say. He simply stared at the snowy figure who had surprised him yet again. She brushed her fiery hair behind her ears as she watched him, steadily meeting his startled gaze.
He might have found words, but the silence was broken by Ginny’s name being called.
Her head whipped around toward the sound and she uttered a muffled curse. She looked back at Draco quickly, shot him a quick smile and ran back toward the hill.
As she walked quickly up the short incline, Draco saw another figure appear.
“There you are.” It was the same voice that had called her a moment ago, and Draco’s eyes narrowed as he recognized it.
Potter.
***
Ginny’s face was flushed red as she scrambled up the hill toward Harry. Damn, damn, damn, she thought furiously. Of all the moments for Harry to interrupt, not that one! What might Draco have said, if given time?
She hadn’t known what she was going to do when she’d separated from the other Gryffindors and followed him. And when he’d stopped so suddenly, just standing there, he’d looked so sad. It wouldn’t do to just talk to him – he’d sneer at her and issue one of his scathing taunts. She had to do something unexpected.
And then she’d remembered the snowballs in her pocket. A secret smile spread over her face as she mentally replayed the event … and then she realized Harry was talking to her.
“… doing out here, Gin?”
“Huh? Oh.” Stupid, stupid. Pay attention! Answer him, or he’ll know something’s up. Did he see Draco? “We were having a snowball fight, and I, um, I wanted to find a hiding place. You know, so I could have the element of surprise.” Did he see me with Draco?
Harry was smiling down at her, and she quickly deduced that he hadn’t seen anything. Change the subject, Ginny!
“So how was your meeting with Professor McGonagall?”
The smile slipped from his face and his eyes lost their sparkle. “Fine,” he said, his words clipped.
Ginny arched an eyebrow. “Sorry I asked.”
He turned to her then, and his face was stricken. “I’m sorry, Ginny, I didn’t mean …”
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s none of my business, anyway.” And she didn’t care. She’d just needed to distract him so she could gather her thoughts. But the pretense was too much to keep up, and Ginny found that she didn’t much care if she was being rude.
She veered away from his side with a sudden movement, quickening her pace as she hurried toward the steps of the castle.
Harry watched her go, much like Draco had, but she didn’t smile back at him.
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