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Time Can Change Everything
Disclaimer: Everything except the plot belongs to J.K. Rowling. The plot is all mine.
--
She had always thought of him as an enemy, since he was Ron’s and Harry’s arch-nemesis. His father coerced her into the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago. She nearly died at the hands of his kin when she was but eleven years old.
But yet, through so many years at Hogwarts, she kept on watching him. It may have been the fact that he was off-limits that only made her want to learn more about him, to want him more. His silver eyes sent shivering sensations down her spine every time they met her soft brown ones.
Forbidden thoughts entered her mind of those long fingers touching her in her most intimate places, of their sweaty bodies rubbing against each other.
Yes, Ginny Weasley did believe that she had become infatuated with Draco Malfoy.
--
After much celebrating and cheer, the seventh years finally graduated. Ginny congratulated Harry, Ron, and Hermione while all the time watching Draco through hooded eyes. She recognized his mother, Narcissa, from the Quidditch World Cup three years ago, talking in hushed voices with him. She wondered what Hogwarts would be like next year without Harry, without Ron and Hermione, and without Draco. Sadly, she didn’t have much time to ponder that thought, since a drunk-off-his-arse Ron crashed into her, laughing tipsily.
On the train ride home, she quietly immersed herself in a novel she had borrowed from Hermione, while her friends chattered raucously around her. They were concocting this grand theory about what would happen next year at Hogwarts, and while Ginny occasionally added her input, she wasn’t really listening.
A flash of silver-blond hair caught her attention, and Ginny noticed that Draco-sodding-Malfoy himself was sitting in the compartment right across from hers. He was moodily staring out of the window, hands thrust in his hair. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up, exposing his lean forearms. Ginny noted with interest that his left arm did not bear the signature mark of a Death Eater.
But then again, she wasn’t really surprised at that. She had known since her third year that Draco Malfoy was very different from Lucius Malfoy. Just because they resembled each other and were father and son did not mean that they had the same interests and that Draco would grow up to be exactly like his father.
When Draco turned his face back around, Ginny quickly delved back into her book, her head spinning with thoughts.
--
Ginny possessed many secret talents nobody knew of, but the two that she was most proud of were her abilities to observe and eavesdrop without the subject of her attention knowing it. This had earned her valuable information in the past that she always filed away in her mind for later use.
Ginny reached into the bag nestled at her feet and drew out her precious journal with the leather cover, her ratty old quill, and an inkpot of emerald ink. Ginny hadn’t trusted journals for a long time after the Chamber of Secrets incident, but she had learned in her fifth year that a journal with a good many spells on it proved a good place to write down her observations and thoughts.
And yes, Ron nearly had an apoplexy when Ginny returned from a day at Hogsmeade with the emerald ink and started writing with it. He had accused Ginny of being a “traitor” simply for writing in “Slytherin colours”. Ginny didn’t know what compelled her to go inside the shop and purchase the green ink, but deep inside, a tiny voice told her that it made her feel closer to Draco, since she knew for a fact that Draco always wrote in green ink. As for Ron, Ginny simply told him that she liked the colour and it reminded her of Harry’s eyes.
Smiling at the memory, she dipped the quill in the ink, and started to write.
June 5
It’s the last train ride home of the year. This may be the last time I ever get to see Malfoy—or Draco, as I now secretly call him. So what if I think he is the sexiest male in the whole population of Hogwarts? So what if I can tell exactly how he peels an orange (sadly, I can). Yet, we have not spoken more than a few words between each other, and they were mostly insults.
It’s amazing that I still remember that Ministry party back when I was five.
Suddenly, the words that she had been writing blurred and she was transported back to a memory of happier times.
Mum dressed me up in bright yellow party dress, with frills, ribbons, and all those inconsequential things little girls like me loved.
She had felt like a princess, proudly walking in with her mum and dad to the giant Ministry ballroom. Her dad had told her to “sit tight” in a chair off to the side, and he told her that they would be right back. Of course, little Ginny, being as agreeable as she was, sat tight and watched her mum and dad walk off to greet loads of people who all smiled and had loud voices.
I remember that there were barely any other children in the room.
Ginny scanned the room with her young eyes, and her face fell when she saw that there were mostly adults. However, a little boy with blond hair sat just a few chairs down from her, engrossed in trying to get his tie off.
Happy at finally finding a potential friend to play with, Ginny paid no heed to her father’s words and hopped off the chair to go over to the little boy.
“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Ginevra Weasley, or Ginny for short. I’m five years old. Would you like help getting that tie off?”
The boy regarded her with sullen eyes before saying, “Yes.”
Ginny easily slipped the tie through the knot and pulled it off his neck before handing him the tie. “What’s your name?”
“Draco Malfoy, and I’m six years old.”
I was young back then. My parents didn’t tell me anything of enemies and families that I was not to associate with. I just knew that he was a boy named Draco, and we got along really well.
The two children sat on the chairs and talked about everything from what their favourite Quidditch teams were (“The Falcons!” Draco said confidently. “But the Cannons have won every game this season!” Ginny pointed out defensively) to what house they were going to be sorted into at Hogwarts (“Everyone in my family went to Gryffindor, and my big brother’s in Gryffindor right now,” Ginny said. “All my relatives were in Slytherin,” Draco replied).
Soon, a couple with blonde hair approached the chairs, and Draco jumped off his chair. “There are my parents. And um, thanks for helping me get my tie off.”
Ginny smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said and ran off to her parents.
I held onto that memory for over a decade. However, I doubt Draco even remembers.
I wish we could just have some time to talk. But then again, we’re so different.
I guess opposites…don’t attract.
Ending her entry, Ginny sketched a small yin-yang sign at the bottom of her page before closing her journal.
--
Glancing over at Draco, Ginny saw that he had already changed into his Muggle clothes and was again staring out of the window.
Ginny decided that it was high time to go and get changed.
--
The Hogwarts Express slowly slid to a halt outside Platform 9 ¾. Ginny smiled as she saw a clan of red heads clustered near the edge.
Students streamed out of the compartments, but Ginny purposely stayed, telling her friends to go on without her, until the train was at last silent. Looking around, she was startled to see that Draco was still there, closing the lock on his trunk. Hoping to avoid talking to him, she pulled down her trunk and slid the compartment door open—at the same time Draco opened his.
Silence reigned, the only sound being the trunk wheels softly rolling along behind them.
At last, Draco broke the silence. “Weasley,” he acknowledged, nodding.
Ginny schooled her face to show no emotion. “Malfoy,” she coolly replied, giving a short nod of her own.
They arrived at the end of the train, and Ginny was about to get off. Thoughts rushed through her head. Did she really want to get off now?
Ginny looked away, before she drew breath to speak. But just as she turned her head to look up at Draco, soft lips met her own.
Emotions surged through her body, and for once, Ginny let everything go. She forgot about hating him, she forgot about his father, and she forgot about all the little facts about him that she had accumulated through the years.
Just for those brief moments, Ginny Weasley only concentrated on how everything felt so perfect.
-fin-
Disclaimer: Everything except the plot belongs to J.K. Rowling. The plot is all mine.
--
She had always thought of him as an enemy, since he was Ron’s and Harry’s arch-nemesis. His father coerced her into the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago. She nearly died at the hands of his kin when she was but eleven years old.
But yet, through so many years at Hogwarts, she kept on watching him. It may have been the fact that he was off-limits that only made her want to learn more about him, to want him more. His silver eyes sent shivering sensations down her spine every time they met her soft brown ones.
Forbidden thoughts entered her mind of those long fingers touching her in her most intimate places, of their sweaty bodies rubbing against each other.
Yes, Ginny Weasley did believe that she had become infatuated with Draco Malfoy.
--
After much celebrating and cheer, the seventh years finally graduated. Ginny congratulated Harry, Ron, and Hermione while all the time watching Draco through hooded eyes. She recognized his mother, Narcissa, from the Quidditch World Cup three years ago, talking in hushed voices with him. She wondered what Hogwarts would be like next year without Harry, without Ron and Hermione, and without Draco. Sadly, she didn’t have much time to ponder that thought, since a drunk-off-his-arse Ron crashed into her, laughing tipsily.
On the train ride home, she quietly immersed herself in a novel she had borrowed from Hermione, while her friends chattered raucously around her. They were concocting this grand theory about what would happen next year at Hogwarts, and while Ginny occasionally added her input, she wasn’t really listening.
A flash of silver-blond hair caught her attention, and Ginny noticed that Draco-sodding-Malfoy himself was sitting in the compartment right across from hers. He was moodily staring out of the window, hands thrust in his hair. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up, exposing his lean forearms. Ginny noted with interest that his left arm did not bear the signature mark of a Death Eater.
But then again, she wasn’t really surprised at that. She had known since her third year that Draco Malfoy was very different from Lucius Malfoy. Just because they resembled each other and were father and son did not mean that they had the same interests and that Draco would grow up to be exactly like his father.
When Draco turned his face back around, Ginny quickly delved back into her book, her head spinning with thoughts.
--
Ginny possessed many secret talents nobody knew of, but the two that she was most proud of were her abilities to observe and eavesdrop without the subject of her attention knowing it. This had earned her valuable information in the past that she always filed away in her mind for later use.
Ginny reached into the bag nestled at her feet and drew out her precious journal with the leather cover, her ratty old quill, and an inkpot of emerald ink. Ginny hadn’t trusted journals for a long time after the Chamber of Secrets incident, but she had learned in her fifth year that a journal with a good many spells on it proved a good place to write down her observations and thoughts.
And yes, Ron nearly had an apoplexy when Ginny returned from a day at Hogsmeade with the emerald ink and started writing with it. He had accused Ginny of being a “traitor” simply for writing in “Slytherin colours”. Ginny didn’t know what compelled her to go inside the shop and purchase the green ink, but deep inside, a tiny voice told her that it made her feel closer to Draco, since she knew for a fact that Draco always wrote in green ink. As for Ron, Ginny simply told him that she liked the colour and it reminded her of Harry’s eyes.
Smiling at the memory, she dipped the quill in the ink, and started to write.
June 5
It’s the last train ride home of the year. This may be the last time I ever get to see Malfoy—or Draco, as I now secretly call him. So what if I think he is the sexiest male in the whole population of Hogwarts? So what if I can tell exactly how he peels an orange (sadly, I can). Yet, we have not spoken more than a few words between each other, and they were mostly insults.
It’s amazing that I still remember that Ministry party back when I was five.
Suddenly, the words that she had been writing blurred and she was transported back to a memory of happier times.
Mum dressed me up in bright yellow party dress, with frills, ribbons, and all those inconsequential things little girls like me loved.
She had felt like a princess, proudly walking in with her mum and dad to the giant Ministry ballroom. Her dad had told her to “sit tight” in a chair off to the side, and he told her that they would be right back. Of course, little Ginny, being as agreeable as she was, sat tight and watched her mum and dad walk off to greet loads of people who all smiled and had loud voices.
I remember that there were barely any other children in the room.
Ginny scanned the room with her young eyes, and her face fell when she saw that there were mostly adults. However, a little boy with blond hair sat just a few chairs down from her, engrossed in trying to get his tie off.
Happy at finally finding a potential friend to play with, Ginny paid no heed to her father’s words and hopped off the chair to go over to the little boy.
“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Ginevra Weasley, or Ginny for short. I’m five years old. Would you like help getting that tie off?”
The boy regarded her with sullen eyes before saying, “Yes.”
Ginny easily slipped the tie through the knot and pulled it off his neck before handing him the tie. “What’s your name?”
“Draco Malfoy, and I’m six years old.”
I was young back then. My parents didn’t tell me anything of enemies and families that I was not to associate with. I just knew that he was a boy named Draco, and we got along really well.
The two children sat on the chairs and talked about everything from what their favourite Quidditch teams were (“The Falcons!” Draco said confidently. “But the Cannons have won every game this season!” Ginny pointed out defensively) to what house they were going to be sorted into at Hogwarts (“Everyone in my family went to Gryffindor, and my big brother’s in Gryffindor right now,” Ginny said. “All my relatives were in Slytherin,” Draco replied).
Soon, a couple with blonde hair approached the chairs, and Draco jumped off his chair. “There are my parents. And um, thanks for helping me get my tie off.”
Ginny smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said and ran off to her parents.
I held onto that memory for over a decade. However, I doubt Draco even remembers.
I wish we could just have some time to talk. But then again, we’re so different.
I guess opposites…don’t attract.
Ending her entry, Ginny sketched a small yin-yang sign at the bottom of her page before closing her journal.
--
Glancing over at Draco, Ginny saw that he had already changed into his Muggle clothes and was again staring out of the window.
Ginny decided that it was high time to go and get changed.
--
The Hogwarts Express slowly slid to a halt outside Platform 9 ¾. Ginny smiled as she saw a clan of red heads clustered near the edge.
Students streamed out of the compartments, but Ginny purposely stayed, telling her friends to go on without her, until the train was at last silent. Looking around, she was startled to see that Draco was still there, closing the lock on his trunk. Hoping to avoid talking to him, she pulled down her trunk and slid the compartment door open—at the same time Draco opened his.
Silence reigned, the only sound being the trunk wheels softly rolling along behind them.
At last, Draco broke the silence. “Weasley,” he acknowledged, nodding.
Ginny schooled her face to show no emotion. “Malfoy,” she coolly replied, giving a short nod of her own.
They arrived at the end of the train, and Ginny was about to get off. Thoughts rushed through her head. Did she really want to get off now?
Ginny looked away, before she drew breath to speak. But just as she turned her head to look up at Draco, soft lips met her own.
Emotions surged through her body, and for once, Ginny let everything go. She forgot about hating him, she forgot about his father, and she forgot about all the little facts about him that she had accumulated through the years.
Just for those brief moments, Ginny Weasley only concentrated on how everything felt so perfect.
-fin-
The End.
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