During the summer before sixth year, I wasted most of my days away thinking of ways to get the youngest Weasley to talk to me. It wasn't a matter of getting her to notice me; she always noticed me. But I needed to come up with a plan to get her not to hate me so much. That's kind of hard being that I've teased her and her family for years. I know that anyone would find it a bit odd that I've taunted her family for years now, and suddenly I want to make her mind. Odd doesn't even begin to describe it.
And still, to this day, I ask the gods why they chose her for me to fall for. Why not someone else? It's not like I'm complaining about the choices they made, but an explanation would be nice.
-
It was a Thursday, or perhaps a Wednesday, in the late summer when I finally talked to her. And I mean talked, not tossing insults back and forth at each other. It was in Diagon Alley that this happened. Mother and Father figured that because I was such a responsible young man, it would be okay for me to go school supply shopping on my own. Hell, I was sixteen. Why wouldn't I be responsible enough?
Anyway, the first thing I did was got my books in Flourish and Blotts. The gods must have been smiling down on me, because there Ginny Weasley was. She was scanning through pre-owned books on a bookshelf towards the back of the shop. I believe she was school supply shopping also.
I had to make my presence known, so I followed her casually. Quietly. Now, I'm not exactly known for being the stalker type, and I didn't want to frighten her away. So I cleared my throat.
Believe it or not, it is very hard to change someone's opinion of you. It's harder indeed if someone has a rather nasty opinion of you. I didn't expect Ginny's opinion of me to change instantly; it would have to come gradually. And that would work splendidly, if I were the patient type. But I'm not.
Nevertheless, she noticed me. Ginny turned around, eyebrows high with surprise. Her lips then thinned. "Look, Malfoy," I recall her saying. "I'm not in the mood right now. Go away. Go annoy someone else." But I was hardly focused on her words at that moment.
My eyes drank her in. Worn black sneakers, worn jeans that looked a size or two too small, and a plain yellow t-shirt. It was nothing exciting or interesting, to say the least. Then I studied her face. Too many freckles. And when I say too many, I mean that there were so many that some were even on her lips. Whoever heard freckled lips? Not I.
Her hair was tied up with a thin black ribbon. But to me, her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, being that a few delicate strands had escaped the ribbon's grasp.
Ginny back then wasn't exactly stick thin. But she wasn't fat either. I think "curvy" would describe her perfectly. I would later find out that she took most of her features from her father -- especially her height. She must have been, what? A hundred seventy six centimeters, at least. That's pretty tall for a girl in my book.
She must have noticed the fact that I was staring at her for a great length of time. That was when she snapped her fingers right in front of my face, as if I were an animal or something. "Malfoy?"
"Weasley. Why are you so eager to get rid of me? What if I wanted to catch up with an old school chum?"
"I'm not, and will never be your chum. Now off you go," she said, rolling her eyes toward the sky.
"Well, as of now, you are. I have, er.. Plans for you." Okay. That didn't come out as smoothly as intended. 'Plans for you'? Is that the best I could do? Where the hell was my so-called "Malfoy charm"?
"Plans for me? Sounds simply intriguing," she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice. "Now, if you'd just leave me alone, I'd be very happy."
She didn't think much of my 'plans'. "Weasley, if you really wanted me to leave you alone, you'd have walked away by now." I reached over and curled a lock of her hair around my index finger. I could feel her body stiffen. She tensed. I released her hair as if it burned. Her chestnut-coloured eyes widened at me. Shock reflected in each of them. No loathing. Only shock, and perhaps confusion.
"I thought I was nothing more than a Muggle lover to you. Isn't it against your nature to converse with someone 'below you', as you'd put it?" And with that, she turned around and walked away.
I turned to the direction that she went in. I had expected that sort of reaction from her whenever I touched her. Well, actually, I sort of expected her to hex me. Good thing we're not allowed to use magic during the summer.
That day in Diagon Alley was spent with me shopping in a state of absent mindedness.
A/N: I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but this story was inspired by the Bloc Party song "This Modern Love".
And still, to this day, I ask the gods why they chose her for me to fall for. Why not someone else? It's not like I'm complaining about the choices they made, but an explanation would be nice.
-
It was a Thursday, or perhaps a Wednesday, in the late summer when I finally talked to her. And I mean talked, not tossing insults back and forth at each other. It was in Diagon Alley that this happened. Mother and Father figured that because I was such a responsible young man, it would be okay for me to go school supply shopping on my own. Hell, I was sixteen. Why wouldn't I be responsible enough?
Anyway, the first thing I did was got my books in Flourish and Blotts. The gods must have been smiling down on me, because there Ginny Weasley was. She was scanning through pre-owned books on a bookshelf towards the back of the shop. I believe she was school supply shopping also.
I had to make my presence known, so I followed her casually. Quietly. Now, I'm not exactly known for being the stalker type, and I didn't want to frighten her away. So I cleared my throat.
Believe it or not, it is very hard to change someone's opinion of you. It's harder indeed if someone has a rather nasty opinion of you. I didn't expect Ginny's opinion of me to change instantly; it would have to come gradually. And that would work splendidly, if I were the patient type. But I'm not.
Nevertheless, she noticed me. Ginny turned around, eyebrows high with surprise. Her lips then thinned. "Look, Malfoy," I recall her saying. "I'm not in the mood right now. Go away. Go annoy someone else." But I was hardly focused on her words at that moment.
My eyes drank her in. Worn black sneakers, worn jeans that looked a size or two too small, and a plain yellow t-shirt. It was nothing exciting or interesting, to say the least. Then I studied her face. Too many freckles. And when I say too many, I mean that there were so many that some were even on her lips. Whoever heard freckled lips? Not I.
Her hair was tied up with a thin black ribbon. But to me, her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, being that a few delicate strands had escaped the ribbon's grasp.
Ginny back then wasn't exactly stick thin. But she wasn't fat either. I think "curvy" would describe her perfectly. I would later find out that she took most of her features from her father -- especially her height. She must have been, what? A hundred seventy six centimeters, at least. That's pretty tall for a girl in my book.
She must have noticed the fact that I was staring at her for a great length of time. That was when she snapped her fingers right in front of my face, as if I were an animal or something. "Malfoy?"
"Weasley. Why are you so eager to get rid of me? What if I wanted to catch up with an old school chum?"
"I'm not, and will never be your chum. Now off you go," she said, rolling her eyes toward the sky.
"Well, as of now, you are. I have, er.. Plans for you." Okay. That didn't come out as smoothly as intended. 'Plans for you'? Is that the best I could do? Where the hell was my so-called "Malfoy charm"?
"Plans for me? Sounds simply intriguing," she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice. "Now, if you'd just leave me alone, I'd be very happy."
She didn't think much of my 'plans'. "Weasley, if you really wanted me to leave you alone, you'd have walked away by now." I reached over and curled a lock of her hair around my index finger. I could feel her body stiffen. She tensed. I released her hair as if it burned. Her chestnut-coloured eyes widened at me. Shock reflected in each of them. No loathing. Only shock, and perhaps confusion.
"I thought I was nothing more than a Muggle lover to you. Isn't it against your nature to converse with someone 'below you', as you'd put it?" And with that, she turned around and walked away.
I turned to the direction that she went in. I had expected that sort of reaction from her whenever I touched her. Well, actually, I sort of expected her to hex me. Good thing we're not allowed to use magic during the summer.
That day in Diagon Alley was spent with me shopping in a state of absent mindedness.
A/N: I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but this story was inspired by the Bloc Party song "This Modern Love".
To Be Continued.
implausible is the author of 1 other stories.
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