Chapter 1: Old Rivalries

~What is this feeling? Loathing, unadulterated loathing. (Wicked)

* * *

King’s Cross was alive and busy like always with the Muggle men and women hustling to and fro while wizards and witches directed their Hogwarts-bound children to Platform 9 ¾. Right outside the magical doorway Ginny Weasley had rolled her cart to a nearby bench and was sitting cross-legged with her head buried in a novel. For a fleeting second she pondered if others would assume Hermione was having too great an influence on her, and then Ginny proceeded to tell her thoughts to bugger off.

The book fell slack in her hands. She’d been dreading her sixth year ever since she started her fifth, or rather, ever since she had gained some sort of foothold into the iron clad threesome Ron, Harry, and Hermione had formed since day one. She didn't want her friends to leave her. Then again, if she were truly being honest with herself, Ginny was simply dreading facing a whole year with having The Boy Who Lived being her ex.

Damn it all! Letting out a much-too-loud sigh she tried desperately to force her head back into the book she’d been reading: Wicked.

Ironic really...me, Miss Goody-Too-Shoes, Never-Does-A-Thing-Wrong, Mostly-Because-Her-Family’s-Too-Stifling is sitting here reading a book titled “wicked.” I might as well be reading The Dark Lord: How to Follow in the Footsteps of You-Know-Who for all my family cares. Ginny snickered to herself. Ever since her first year she’d found more comfort rattling off pointless conversations in her head than actually trying to talk to those around her. Not...that she was anti-social. She just found the assurance of her own mind more trustworthy than investing in others.

Ginny turned over the book to look at its simple leather book-cover. The story was interesting and complicated, but a bit too tedious for her liking. Then again, she’d rather be forced to read Wicked instead of some boring garbage like Hogwarts: A History or, heaven forbid, Magical Me by Gilderoy Lockheart.

Sighing again she returned to the story of Elphaba. Upon hearing the music from the musical, a strange chord had been plucked in her heart that no other music had given her. Immediately she drove headfirst into finding everything she could about the story, memorizing ever song until she could sing it in her sleep. Then again, when haven’t I learned every song I love until I can sing it in my sleep. Nonetheless, Elphaba’s story of unrequited love and man (or in this case “woman”) verses society seemed strangely familiar to Ginny. Too much so.

“Ginny!” Ron’s voice sailed above the noise of the crowd. Quickly, Ginny shoved a bookmark into the page she was on and stuffed the novel in her bag. Her brother’s lanky figure and fire-engine red hair towered above most of the other Muggles. She couldn’t help but grin.

That was, until she spotted the other two members of the Golden Trio. Her heart sinking, Ginny mustered all the strength she could to plaster on a huge fake smile. No use looking totally distraught and depressed. Besides, we only dated a few weeks, right? Nothing to get so emotionally hung-over about.

She was lying to herself. And she knew it. But no need to face that reality right now. Especially with The Boy Who Lived, the smartest girl in school, and her own brother barreling up to see her with such happy faces. No, definitely not the time.

* * *

Draco Malfoy slumped in the window seat of his abandoned cabin. His mother would be horrified at his posture and his father would sneer at his lack of composure. Bugger it. I frankly don’t care.

Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the others who normally shared his cabin were out terrorizing first-years or some other nonsense. Normally he’d be with them. Right now he just wanted to be dead...or drunk. Yes, being drunk would suffice.

“Why, hello Mr. Happy Feet. How’s the doom and despair going on your side of the universe?” Draco glanced up to see the silhouette of a tall, dark-haired Slytherin. Blaise.

“What do you want, Zabini?” He made it sound more like an accusation than a question.

“Oh, just the usual,” Blaise spoke non-emphatically as he strode into the cabin, “World Domination by Yours Truly, hanging Granger upside down by her pinky toes, humiliating He Who Never Stops Saving The World...”

Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“You don’t want that.”

Blaise looked indignant. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”

“You have the stomach of a first-year Hufflepuff and wouldn’t dare engaging in any activity that would mess up your manicure.” Draco grinned at the horrified look on the other boy’s face. “And I think the only reason your sorry arse is in Slytherin is because none of the other houses would have you. Well, Hufflepuff might have, but they never have been as choosy as they should. Only thing you’ve got in your favor is you’re a pureblood.”

“Alas!” he cried out with much dramatic fanfare, “I am found out.” Blaise flopped down next to Draco, giving the pale-haired boy a look of hurt and desolation. “What ever shall I do?”

“Blaise...you’re pathetic.”

“I know. But if I wasn’t ‘pathetic’ you wouldn’t like me so much now, eh?”

“It’s only because everyone else is even more pathetic than you.” Draco crossed his arms in a huff. Only Zabini could take his rain cloud and transfigure it into daisies, sunshine, and other despicable things. With a sigh, he glared at his friend.

“What!”

“I was enjoying being a depressed teenager with no hope in the world.”

“I’ll say. That was pretty angst-y, even for you.”

“‘Angst-y’? Is that even a word?”

Blaise grinned maliciously. “It is now. Along with depression-ettic, Malfoy-oncy, pathetionous-”

“I get it! And don’t you dare use ‘Malfoy-oncy’. That’s just-”

“Very manly and angst-ish?”

“-wrong.” Draco shook his head in faked despair. “Don’t you ever tire of being so cheerful all the time?”

“Nope.”

“Wipe that grin off your face.”

The boy took on an overly-dramatized arrogant face. “Thank you kindly for the invitation, but I’m quite sorry to say that I must stubbornly decline.” He stole a glance at Draco.

“Zabini?”

Blaise answered with a raised eyebrow.

“You had this coming.” Before he could respond, Draco took the opportunity to land a sound whack! on the back of Blaise’s head. Immediately, the dark-haired boy burst out into a short, but none-the-less definite, stream of curses.

“Finished?”

“You git, that hurt!” Blaise glared at his friend, who just shrugged. “Feel better now?”

“Quite, actually.”

“So you mind telling me what in Merlin’s name are you so depressed about? I swear, I thought I was going to walk in here and have to take a gun out of your mouth or some other stupidly idiotic thing!”

“First of all, it’s not nice to swear. Second, ‘stupidly’ and ‘idiotic’ should never be said consecutively. And third-” Blaise interrupted him with a twin blow to the whack Draco had previously given. Just as the other had done, Draco erupted into a fine stream of ill-bearing words.

“‘Finished’?” Blaise mocked the aristocratic smirk Draco usually wore.

“Dammit Blaise-”

“Ha! You called me by my first name. I always knew you had it in you.”

“Oh, sod off, Zabini.”

Blaise seemed to fully ignore Draco’s comment. “So you going to tell me what’s getting you down now?”

“No.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, yes you are!” he replied, singing the last few words. For a moment, both boys stared at each other, Blaise wearing a goofy smile and Draco glaring profusely back at him.

Draco finally broke the standstill, his voice barely above a hissing whisper. “And I suppose if you were me, you wouldn’t be upset. I mean, really...my life can’t be that bad. I’ve only got my father locked away in Azkaban, rotting away thanks to the horrible Scarface and his two mutts. I’ve only spent my summer being dragged to party after party in a very vain attempt to right the Malfoy name, just to be reminded what a failure I am to my parents, and consequently, any ol’ day big-bad You-Know-Who can waltz right in and sacrifice me with a flick of his wand!”

“You forgot to mention how you humiliated yourself in front of all your friends, not to mention probably your entire house...”

“Blaise!” Something in Draco had snapped. It startled him. Draco hardly ever let down the mask of ‘tough guy’, but right now Blaise could make out every emotion on his face - desperation, hurt, longing, suffering. Draco never let his emotions show so vividly. He’d been taught better long ago by his father. It just wasn’t befitting for a Slytherin, let alone the single heir to the Malfoy name. Whatever Draco had been through was certainly wearing on him, and the fact that it could make his emotions as clear as day on his face...well, that scared the living daylights out of Blaise.

“Look, Draco,” he laid a comforting hand on Draco’s slumped shoulders, “it’s school again. You-Know-Who can’t get you there even if he had all his Death Eaters at full power barreling after you. As much as I hate to admit it, Dumbledore can keep Hogwarts well-warded. And don’t worry about last year. If anyone so much as smirks in your direction, I’ll hex their head off.”

Draco couldn’t help but grin. “I know, Blaise. If you weren’t here...maybe I would jump off a bridge or something equally stupid.”

“Eh, you like yourself way too much to do that.”

“You’re right. Instead I would get totally wasted and stand on the Hufflepuff table stark naked singing ‘God Save the Queen’.”

“Oi. Very bad mental image right now.”

“Tell me about it.” Blaise grinned as his friend clamped him on the back, a gesture the two saved for when they were completely alone.

Or so they thought.

At that very moment some strange ruckus was going on just outside their cabin door. Silhouetted in the frosty pane of the door, a girl was motioning angrily down the hall. Before either boy could think, the door swung open as the girl tumbled inside.

Draco and Blaise sprung apart instantly. Both boys blinked in shock at the intruder. Blaise glanced towards Draco with curiosity, but the pale-haired boy merely stared at the red-headed female who’d fallen into their cabin. Slowly, shock seeped away as revelation lit up his features. Sneering, he positioned himself just right in the corner seat to appear as malicious and arrogant as ever. ‘Draco’ was gone and ‘Mr. Malfoy, Jr.’ had replaced him. And sprawled haphazardly on his cabin floor was none other than Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Ron could be so bloody exasperating at times. The moment she’d met up with the trio, he continually passed hopeful looks between her and Harry. As if looking like a puppy dog to both of us would make things go back to normal. She didn’t want Harry back that was for sure. His quick dumping of her had hurt way too much and taken too long to get over for her heart to be trampled on again.

But...Ron! Ron, of all people, certainly didn’t see why not. Harry loved Ginny, Ginny loved Harry, and in his mind they should get married and live happily ever after. Do I love Harry? I thought I did. She also thought many other things, most of which were terribly wrong or never came true. Five years. Five years I’ve wasted pining after the same emerald-eyed, black-haired, World-saving Wonder Boy. And look, she thought bitterly, where that got me. It wasn’t Ron’s fault Harry had believed breaking up with Ginny would be better for them both. Nor was it Ron’s fault she finally decided enough was enough. But it was Ron’s fault for driving her nuts about getting the two of them back together.

“Ginny...Ginny! C’mon, what’d I do?” Ron was chasing after her as she dodged other students in her haste to practically run down the hall. “Ginny!”

“Shove it, Ron,” she called over her shoulder. Right now she was too mad to deal with his blatant ignorance.

“Ginny, stop being a spoil sport!”

Reaching the end of this car, she turned around furiously. “No, Ron, you stop it.” Students were poking their heads out of cabins to see what the commotion was about.

“I don’t see why you’re being so sore about this.”

“And I don’t see why you’re being so pig-headed about this, either!”

“Just come on back and talk to Hermione.”

“No!” she stomped. “I will not be ‘soothed’ just so it makes your life easier. Much too sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a cabin where I don’t have to look at you for hours at a time!”

If Ron was going to reply, she didn’t care. Not particularly worried about who occupied the cabin, Ginny opened the door and stormed in. Well...she was storming until the panel of the door caught her robe and caused her to land quite un-ladylike on her face.

Blast it! After the initial shock, pain began to sting her hands and face. For a brief moment she hoped the cabin was empty. The fates seemed dead set against her.

Out of the semi-darkness a slow, silky voice picked up her existence.

“Ah, if it isn’t the female portion of the infamous Weasley spawn.” Crap, crap, crap. Anyone but him. Please God, anyone but him! God, however, seemed to be busy today. “And here I thought it was illegal to produce more than two children with abnormally ugly hair. They must have changed it since I last checked...not that the Weasleys would abide by any laws. Tell me, little Weasley, do you pay taxes or does your father consort with the Minister to help bypass that law too?”

Her face turned a burning red. Blasted Malfoy. Just what I need. On one hand, she could keep laying there and pretend to be knocked out. Then again, that would just work in his favor. She could see him gloating with his other friends. ‘Ginny Weasley barged into my cabin and passed out! What an oaf...why do they even let her in this school?’

Slowly she stood to her feet, her eyes dilating to the increased dimness. “Malfoy. What an unexpected pleasure to run into you. I trust you’re doing well?” Ginny smirked seeing the momentary surprise on Malfoy’s face.

“Oh, so your pig of a mother finally taught you manners. A feat, considering she hasn’t any herself.” More than anything Ginny wanted to wipe that smirk off his arrogant face. But she thought better of it. Rather, she pasted an overly-gracious smile and faced her nemesis.

“Tell me, Malfoy, does your mother enjoy sleeping with all the rich men now that your father’s locked away in Azkaban?” Draco went deathly still.

“Leave my mother out of this.”

“Then leave my mother out of this.”

Draco sat up straighter, shooting a burning gaze towards her. “Your mother isn’t worth the oxygen she consumes...just like the rest of your bloody family.” Ginny fought the urge to glare right back.

“Still with the same old taunts Malfoy? Geesh...even I had given you enough credit to come up with something new. I guess all that Malfoy incest really does dull down the genes.” He stood up. Crap.

“Hold. Your. Tongue...you sniveling traitor. Or you’ll make me do something I might later regret.”

“A Malfoy can regret?” Oh why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

Draco stood painfully close to her. Ginny sneered right back at him.

“Oh yes, Weasley, everyone can regret. Tell me, is that ex-boyfriend of yours regretting his decision? The glorious Potter find out he’s made a mistake and come crawling back to you yet?” The stricken look on her face egged Draco on. “Not that I think he will. I happen to give Scarface a bit more credit than crawling back to the likes of you. He probably found out he can hardly stand one Weasley, let alone date a second.”

His words hit her like a slap. Her mind told her Malfoy was just trying to get a rise out of her, but her heart still ached. She wanted love so badly, and when Harry had finally kissed her, she thought her dreams had finally come true. Oh, how far the mighty fall. She wasn’t mighty though. Not one bit. How could she, standing here being played right into Malfoy’s hand?

“You,” she whispered, “have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Then tell me why your face is so red and you’re trying so hard not to cry?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

Draco closed the little space between them and laid his hands on either shoulder. “Play with fire, Weasley, and you’re bound to get burned.”

“Get your hands off me.”

“What’s that?” He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Let go? Nonsense.”

“Release me or else.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Or else what? You’ll stick that hero of yours on me? Or maybe you’ll go crying to that oaf of a brother...that’s a laugh.”

Though he held her in place, Ginny’s arms were still quite free. Not bothering to think in her fury, she curled her fist and delivered a hard punch to his gut. Distracted by the sudden pain, Draco let go of her shoulders, and Ginny quickly crossed the cabin to the door.

“I hate you, Malfoy. I hate you and your whole stinking family. And I hope You-Know-Who has enough cunning to rid the world of you and your miserable parents forever!”

With that, she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

References:

“Wicked” – Music and Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West – Written by Gregory Maguire