It was nearly akin to a Hogwarts tradition.
Beginning around their fourth year or so, the students of Hogwarts would begin to notice a strange phenomenon. The strange behaviour would seem to begin with their closest friends, and then spread to the people in their dorms and across their Houses, and then finally it would come to their notice that everywhere, everyone in Hogwarts above the fourth year was acting a little differently. They themselves would not be spared. They would begin to notice things – people – differently, perhaps to their surprise or disgust.
It was the hormones.
You see, through their first, second and third years of school, intra-house unity went hand-in-hand with inter-house enmity. Blaise Zabini was an evil, no-good Slytherin and Hannah Abbott was a dull, giggly Hufflepuff; it was as simple as that.
Everything was clear and demarcated, and lines were not crossed.
And then – BAM! – in their fourth year that no-good Slytherin suddenly became Tall, Dark and Handsome and that dull, giggly Hufflepuff was now The Leggy Blonde.
Ginny Weasley, now entering her sixth year, was no stranger to the phenomenon, but she really didn’t see what the fuss was all about. It wasn’t that she didn’t have hormones; she just failed to see how people could suddenly become blind to everything else but looks. It couldn’t be borne.
That was, until that little incident with Malfoy last night.
Just thinking about it caused Ginny to burn with shame.
By all standards, Malfoy was considered good looking. All right, she conceded that he was more than good looking. If you got right down to it he could be considered quite gorgeous, if you liked that sort of thing. With his pale grey eyes and Seeker’s build, it was no wonder that he had been nicknamed the Slytherin Sex God. But still, Ginny didn’t see why hoards of girls were forever throwing themselves at him, hoping for something more than a cursory glance. She had interacted with Malfoy countless times, none of which had changed her view of him as a world-class git. Gone were the malice and evil tendencies, but he was still unbelievably conceited and spoiled. Of course, she had made her opinions on this known, which was precisely why it pained Ginny to recall the previous night.
She had had a rough night. After serving detention with Snape, she had been on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when a cackling Peeves had waylaid her by tossing a bucket of soapy water at her. Half-drenched, Ginny had stomped to the nearest bathroom, which happened to be a Prefect’s bathroom. Perhaps her foul mood had clouded her mind, but she didn’t think to knock or listen for sounds of water splashing. Cursing under her breath, she had opened the door only to be rendered entirely silent and utterly speechless.
A man had stood a few metres in front of her, back facing her, the bottom half of his torso wrapped in nothing but a thick white towel. His back was broad and lean, tapering off to a narrow waist. His skin was still glistening from his bath. Although all she had been able to see of him to identify him was matted blonde hair, there had been no doubt in her mind that this was Draco Malfoy.
Oh Merlin, had been Ginny’s only coherent thought. Clearly, she had been missing out.
As he had reached to the side for another towel, his back and shoulder muscles had rippled enticingly, and a soft gasp had escaped Ginny.
In a heartbeat, Malfoy had grabbed his wand, which lay atop a pile of clothes, and spun around, his eyes flashing.
Ginny would have said something in defence, but the sight of Malfoy from the front had been (if that was possible) even better. He boasted a defined chest, surprisingly large biceps for a Seeker and an even more surprising six-pack. His towel was slung low on his hips, and Ginny had to try her hardest not to imagine what it was hiding.
Malfoy had visibly relaxed, lowering his wand when he’d seen that it was her, but now that the shock had worn off he had just stood there in his towel and his wonderfully glorious – damn him! – body, staring at her with those intense grey eyes of his, not saying a word.
Having those eyes directed at her had snapped Ginny back to reality, and as she assessed the situation she realised she didn’t have a defence for why she had been standing there for such a long time. She had waited for Malfoy to say something, but the seconds ticked by and he had just stood there, waiting for an explanation. Feeling extremely unnerved, Ginny had decided to break the ice.
After what had seemed like a century but had in reality only been a few seconds, she had backed away, muttering apologies.
Malfoy’s cool stare had then morphed into a smirk. “I don’t mind actually. Enjoying the view?”
“I, uh, well—that is…” Ginny had clutched at straws for a response that wasn’t an outright lie as her traitorous mind pondered vaguely if his chest was as hard as it looked. Perhaps she could reach out and…
Malfoy had smiled, a feral, calculating smile that reminded Ginny of a cat watching a canary being taken out of its cage. “You know, Weasley, if you wanted a look, all you had to do was ask.”
Malfoy had shifted his weight onto the other hip while talking, and Ginny had to fight the urge to swallow. She wondered how securely he had knotted his towel.
Thankfully, Malfoy seemed to have given up on getting an answer. “Caught in the rain?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow at her attire.
Ginny had been quite mortified. She hadn’t even thought about being half-drenched the moment she’d set eyes on him, and she’d felt rather foolish standing there dripping water onto the floor. “Peeves’ idea of a joke,” was all she’d muttered.
Malfoy had stood there for a few moments, looking amused, before saying, “Planning on watching me change as well?”
“N—no! I’ll be outside.”Ginny had nodded emphatically and stepped outside.
As the door had closed behind her, Ginny had slumped against it for support, bemoaning her lack of good graces. Why, why did she have to discover her hormones now? Why did her brain, which had always been a reliable repository of witty remarks, have to abandon her at this most crucial juncture – in front of Malfoy, no less! And all because of some stupid muscles. She was going to be the laughingstock of Hogwarts as soon as Malfoy ran to his housemates to spread the news that Ginny Weasley had peeped at him when he was half-naked and, yes, she had enjoyed the view very much indeed.
The door had opened, and Ginny had stumbled in, narrowly missing Malfoy. She was surprised when she felt his hand on her arm, steadying her. His touch seemed to burn. “Thanks. Sorry about that.” She’d looked up and had been relieved to see that he was all covered up. Not that it made much of a difference, now that she’d seen what was underneath, could picture it easily…
“Well then, I’d better leave and let you sort yourself out. We wouldn’t want you to be running around all wet and flustered now, would we?” With another smirk, he had gathered his belongings and left. The innuendo in his parting words was unmistakable.
Ginny’s cheeks flushed as she recalled the incident. Merlin, he was arrogant! She was absolute furious with herself for acting the way she had. There was so much that she could have said not to seem like a pervert and a dimwit. But there and then, having had Malfoy’s piercing grey eyes concentrated on her like that, she’d been a goner. If only she had turned away when she had had the opportunity those few moments before he had seen her!
Well, it wouldn’t do to dwell on such things. Right now there was the more pertinent problem of what seemed to be her growing fascination with Draco Malfoy. She refused to be reduced to one of the many, many, many girls who fancied themselves half in love with him. Such girls were bound to get their hearts broken; it was simply a matter of probabilities.
Right, well, Ginny reasoned, it wasn’t really a fascination, and it certainly wasn’t love, but more of a teeny tiny crush. Yes, that was it. She’d give herself a week. That was surely more than enough time to get the image of Malfoy, half-naked and dripping water, out of her head.
~
Draco Malfoy was fully aware of his effect on people. Girls, in particular, were very susceptible to his charms. One snap of his fingers and they’d come running, not that he’d tried. Guys, on the other hand, did not like him very much. ‘Arrogant, smarmy git,’ was a favourite insult of Ron Weasley. But Draco wasn’t in the least arrogant. He rationalised that if everything he thought about himself were true, then how could he be arrogant? He was merely being truthful. Which was why it pained him to admit that his ‘effect’ did not extend to one Ginevra Weasley. Which was why what happened today pleased him more than he cared to admit.
The truth was, Draco had been watching her for some time, this girl. He had not meant to start. In fact, if he could stop watching her, he would. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she was a pretty girl with a lovely slender figure. There was just something magnetic about her. He was always aware when she entered a room, and his eyes were always drawn to her. He noticed all sorts of things about her. That she had laughing eyes. That there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth that she was slightly self-conscious about. That when she narrowed her eyes, she was only pretending to be irritated but when she went still, you’d better apologise right away. That on Saturday mornings she would wake early and have breakfast alone while reading a book. That she hated thunderstorms. It was really quite embarrassing, how much he knew about her.
But of course, he was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley, and countless generations of Malfoys and Weasleys would turn in their graves were anything to happen between them. She was not worth the hell his father would put him through if he found out that Draco was going after her. It didn’t help that she hated him, and made it known him at least three times a week. Despite being the Slytherin Sex God (not entirely true, though he thought it had a nice ring to it), it seemed that Ginny was quite immune. So he told himself it was a mere infatuation, lust, and tried not to think about what it would be like to take her in his arms and give her a good snog. Then a few days ago at the Halloween masquerade they had danced, and she had (not knowing who he was) smiled, a genuine smile that was directed right at him. It had hit him squarely in the gut and knocked the breath right out of his lungs, and Draco had wanted nothing more than for that smile to be directed at him again.
It was downright sappy when you thought about it, but Draco was done thinking. So he decided, screw generations of enmity and discord; he was going to have her. He had been taking a long, lazy bath, in the midst of devising just how to go about doing this. The Fantabulous Trio (not to mention the rest of Gryffindor) would have his head for trying, no doubt. The problem was how to get her alone. She was always surrounded by Gryffindors, or her loopy blonde Ravenclaw friend. Perhaps he could approach her Saturday at breakfast, then. And then what? Draco was no slouch when it came to getting girls, but this one was different.
So when he’d turned around in the bathroom to find her standing there, mouth quite agape, Draco was surprised and more than a little pleased. And she had gone speechless on him, a far cry from her usual spunky self. It pleased him to no end to know that he had some sort of effect on her, and that his training had been put to good use, after all.
The unflappable Ginny Weasley. Finally.
~
At breakfast the next morning, Ginny was scanning the sea of Slytherin faces when she lit on the one she was looking for but trying not to look like she was looking for. She nearly choked on her pumpkin juice when she saw that he was looking right at her, stirring his porridge thoughtfully. She wrenched her gaze away and shovelled cornflakes into her mouth, willing herself not to look up and see if he was still looking at her.
This exchange did not go unnoticed by Luna, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table talking to her friend.
“Oh, so it’s finally happened,” Luna said matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean, finally? What’s finally happened? What are you talking about?” Ginny asked a little snappishly, half-afraid of what the answer might be.
“You and Malfoy, of course,” Luna said, blinking her rather large eyes at Ginny. “I thought it would’ve been obvious.”
“Obvious? Why would anything be obvious? Why would you think there’s anything going on between me and Malfoy?” Ginny knew she needed to shut up right now, but her mouth wasn’t paying heed to her brain.
Luna stared at her. “Are you all right? Have you got a case of Blipperty Tongue? It’s making you speak really quickly.”
“No, I haven’t. It’s just…” Ginny told Luna about the previous night, leaving out the extra naughty bits that had been going on in her mind. “I mean, it’s normal, right? It’s just a hormone thing. I can’t help it.”
“Ginny, you and Malfoy have been flirting with each other for ages. You seek each other out. Of course you find him attractive.”
For the second time that morning, Ginny nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. “What?! We have not! We don’t!”
Luna just smiled at her knowingly.
“That’s not flirting! That’s—that’s arguing! We can’t stand each other!”
They turned to watch as just then, from down the table, Hermione pushed back her chair huffily, glaring at Ron. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, you’re a sorry excuse of a human being! I can’t stand you! I’m going to the library.” She stalked out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron staring at her aghast, his mouth still full of sausage.
Luna turned back to Ginny. “Just like how your brother and Hermione can’t stand each other?”
“Oh, shut up,” Ginny said, growing uneasy at the thought that Luna might just have been right.
~
Beginning around their fourth year or so, the students of Hogwarts would begin to notice a strange phenomenon. The strange behaviour would seem to begin with their closest friends, and then spread to the people in their dorms and across their Houses, and then finally it would come to their notice that everywhere, everyone in Hogwarts above the fourth year was acting a little differently. They themselves would not be spared. They would begin to notice things – people – differently, perhaps to their surprise or disgust.
It was the hormones.
You see, through their first, second and third years of school, intra-house unity went hand-in-hand with inter-house enmity. Blaise Zabini was an evil, no-good Slytherin and Hannah Abbott was a dull, giggly Hufflepuff; it was as simple as that.
Everything was clear and demarcated, and lines were not crossed.
And then – BAM! – in their fourth year that no-good Slytherin suddenly became Tall, Dark and Handsome and that dull, giggly Hufflepuff was now The Leggy Blonde.
Ginny Weasley, now entering her sixth year, was no stranger to the phenomenon, but she really didn’t see what the fuss was all about. It wasn’t that she didn’t have hormones; she just failed to see how people could suddenly become blind to everything else but looks. It couldn’t be borne.
That was, until that little incident with Malfoy last night.
Just thinking about it caused Ginny to burn with shame.
By all standards, Malfoy was considered good looking. All right, she conceded that he was more than good looking. If you got right down to it he could be considered quite gorgeous, if you liked that sort of thing. With his pale grey eyes and Seeker’s build, it was no wonder that he had been nicknamed the Slytherin Sex God. But still, Ginny didn’t see why hoards of girls were forever throwing themselves at him, hoping for something more than a cursory glance. She had interacted with Malfoy countless times, none of which had changed her view of him as a world-class git. Gone were the malice and evil tendencies, but he was still unbelievably conceited and spoiled. Of course, she had made her opinions on this known, which was precisely why it pained Ginny to recall the previous night.
She had had a rough night. After serving detention with Snape, she had been on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when a cackling Peeves had waylaid her by tossing a bucket of soapy water at her. Half-drenched, Ginny had stomped to the nearest bathroom, which happened to be a Prefect’s bathroom. Perhaps her foul mood had clouded her mind, but she didn’t think to knock or listen for sounds of water splashing. Cursing under her breath, she had opened the door only to be rendered entirely silent and utterly speechless.
A man had stood a few metres in front of her, back facing her, the bottom half of his torso wrapped in nothing but a thick white towel. His back was broad and lean, tapering off to a narrow waist. His skin was still glistening from his bath. Although all she had been able to see of him to identify him was matted blonde hair, there had been no doubt in her mind that this was Draco Malfoy.
Oh Merlin, had been Ginny’s only coherent thought. Clearly, she had been missing out.
As he had reached to the side for another towel, his back and shoulder muscles had rippled enticingly, and a soft gasp had escaped Ginny.
In a heartbeat, Malfoy had grabbed his wand, which lay atop a pile of clothes, and spun around, his eyes flashing.
Ginny would have said something in defence, but the sight of Malfoy from the front had been (if that was possible) even better. He boasted a defined chest, surprisingly large biceps for a Seeker and an even more surprising six-pack. His towel was slung low on his hips, and Ginny had to try her hardest not to imagine what it was hiding.
Malfoy had visibly relaxed, lowering his wand when he’d seen that it was her, but now that the shock had worn off he had just stood there in his towel and his wonderfully glorious – damn him! – body, staring at her with those intense grey eyes of his, not saying a word.
Having those eyes directed at her had snapped Ginny back to reality, and as she assessed the situation she realised she didn’t have a defence for why she had been standing there for such a long time. She had waited for Malfoy to say something, but the seconds ticked by and he had just stood there, waiting for an explanation. Feeling extremely unnerved, Ginny had decided to break the ice.
After what had seemed like a century but had in reality only been a few seconds, she had backed away, muttering apologies.
Malfoy’s cool stare had then morphed into a smirk. “I don’t mind actually. Enjoying the view?”
“I, uh, well—that is…” Ginny had clutched at straws for a response that wasn’t an outright lie as her traitorous mind pondered vaguely if his chest was as hard as it looked. Perhaps she could reach out and…
Malfoy had smiled, a feral, calculating smile that reminded Ginny of a cat watching a canary being taken out of its cage. “You know, Weasley, if you wanted a look, all you had to do was ask.”
Malfoy had shifted his weight onto the other hip while talking, and Ginny had to fight the urge to swallow. She wondered how securely he had knotted his towel.
Thankfully, Malfoy seemed to have given up on getting an answer. “Caught in the rain?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow at her attire.
Ginny had been quite mortified. She hadn’t even thought about being half-drenched the moment she’d set eyes on him, and she’d felt rather foolish standing there dripping water onto the floor. “Peeves’ idea of a joke,” was all she’d muttered.
Malfoy had stood there for a few moments, looking amused, before saying, “Planning on watching me change as well?”
“N—no! I’ll be outside.”Ginny had nodded emphatically and stepped outside.
As the door had closed behind her, Ginny had slumped against it for support, bemoaning her lack of good graces. Why, why did she have to discover her hormones now? Why did her brain, which had always been a reliable repository of witty remarks, have to abandon her at this most crucial juncture – in front of Malfoy, no less! And all because of some stupid muscles. She was going to be the laughingstock of Hogwarts as soon as Malfoy ran to his housemates to spread the news that Ginny Weasley had peeped at him when he was half-naked and, yes, she had enjoyed the view very much indeed.
The door had opened, and Ginny had stumbled in, narrowly missing Malfoy. She was surprised when she felt his hand on her arm, steadying her. His touch seemed to burn. “Thanks. Sorry about that.” She’d looked up and had been relieved to see that he was all covered up. Not that it made much of a difference, now that she’d seen what was underneath, could picture it easily…
“Well then, I’d better leave and let you sort yourself out. We wouldn’t want you to be running around all wet and flustered now, would we?” With another smirk, he had gathered his belongings and left. The innuendo in his parting words was unmistakable.
Ginny’s cheeks flushed as she recalled the incident. Merlin, he was arrogant! She was absolute furious with herself for acting the way she had. There was so much that she could have said not to seem like a pervert and a dimwit. But there and then, having had Malfoy’s piercing grey eyes concentrated on her like that, she’d been a goner. If only she had turned away when she had had the opportunity those few moments before he had seen her!
Well, it wouldn’t do to dwell on such things. Right now there was the more pertinent problem of what seemed to be her growing fascination with Draco Malfoy. She refused to be reduced to one of the many, many, many girls who fancied themselves half in love with him. Such girls were bound to get their hearts broken; it was simply a matter of probabilities.
Right, well, Ginny reasoned, it wasn’t really a fascination, and it certainly wasn’t love, but more of a teeny tiny crush. Yes, that was it. She’d give herself a week. That was surely more than enough time to get the image of Malfoy, half-naked and dripping water, out of her head.
~
Draco Malfoy was fully aware of his effect on people. Girls, in particular, were very susceptible to his charms. One snap of his fingers and they’d come running, not that he’d tried. Guys, on the other hand, did not like him very much. ‘Arrogant, smarmy git,’ was a favourite insult of Ron Weasley. But Draco wasn’t in the least arrogant. He rationalised that if everything he thought about himself were true, then how could he be arrogant? He was merely being truthful. Which was why it pained him to admit that his ‘effect’ did not extend to one Ginevra Weasley. Which was why what happened today pleased him more than he cared to admit.
The truth was, Draco had been watching her for some time, this girl. He had not meant to start. In fact, if he could stop watching her, he would. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she was a pretty girl with a lovely slender figure. There was just something magnetic about her. He was always aware when she entered a room, and his eyes were always drawn to her. He noticed all sorts of things about her. That she had laughing eyes. That there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth that she was slightly self-conscious about. That when she narrowed her eyes, she was only pretending to be irritated but when she went still, you’d better apologise right away. That on Saturday mornings she would wake early and have breakfast alone while reading a book. That she hated thunderstorms. It was really quite embarrassing, how much he knew about her.
But of course, he was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley, and countless generations of Malfoys and Weasleys would turn in their graves were anything to happen between them. She was not worth the hell his father would put him through if he found out that Draco was going after her. It didn’t help that she hated him, and made it known him at least three times a week. Despite being the Slytherin Sex God (not entirely true, though he thought it had a nice ring to it), it seemed that Ginny was quite immune. So he told himself it was a mere infatuation, lust, and tried not to think about what it would be like to take her in his arms and give her a good snog. Then a few days ago at the Halloween masquerade they had danced, and she had (not knowing who he was) smiled, a genuine smile that was directed right at him. It had hit him squarely in the gut and knocked the breath right out of his lungs, and Draco had wanted nothing more than for that smile to be directed at him again.
It was downright sappy when you thought about it, but Draco was done thinking. So he decided, screw generations of enmity and discord; he was going to have her. He had been taking a long, lazy bath, in the midst of devising just how to go about doing this. The Fantabulous Trio (not to mention the rest of Gryffindor) would have his head for trying, no doubt. The problem was how to get her alone. She was always surrounded by Gryffindors, or her loopy blonde Ravenclaw friend. Perhaps he could approach her Saturday at breakfast, then. And then what? Draco was no slouch when it came to getting girls, but this one was different.
So when he’d turned around in the bathroom to find her standing there, mouth quite agape, Draco was surprised and more than a little pleased. And she had gone speechless on him, a far cry from her usual spunky self. It pleased him to no end to know that he had some sort of effect on her, and that his training had been put to good use, after all.
The unflappable Ginny Weasley. Finally.
~
At breakfast the next morning, Ginny was scanning the sea of Slytherin faces when she lit on the one she was looking for but trying not to look like she was looking for. She nearly choked on her pumpkin juice when she saw that he was looking right at her, stirring his porridge thoughtfully. She wrenched her gaze away and shovelled cornflakes into her mouth, willing herself not to look up and see if he was still looking at her.
This exchange did not go unnoticed by Luna, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table talking to her friend.
“Oh, so it’s finally happened,” Luna said matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean, finally? What’s finally happened? What are you talking about?” Ginny asked a little snappishly, half-afraid of what the answer might be.
“You and Malfoy, of course,” Luna said, blinking her rather large eyes at Ginny. “I thought it would’ve been obvious.”
“Obvious? Why would anything be obvious? Why would you think there’s anything going on between me and Malfoy?” Ginny knew she needed to shut up right now, but her mouth wasn’t paying heed to her brain.
Luna stared at her. “Are you all right? Have you got a case of Blipperty Tongue? It’s making you speak really quickly.”
“No, I haven’t. It’s just…” Ginny told Luna about the previous night, leaving out the extra naughty bits that had been going on in her mind. “I mean, it’s normal, right? It’s just a hormone thing. I can’t help it.”
“Ginny, you and Malfoy have been flirting with each other for ages. You seek each other out. Of course you find him attractive.”
For the second time that morning, Ginny nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. “What?! We have not! We don’t!”
Luna just smiled at her knowingly.
“That’s not flirting! That’s—that’s arguing! We can’t stand each other!”
They turned to watch as just then, from down the table, Hermione pushed back her chair huffily, glaring at Ron. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, you’re a sorry excuse of a human being! I can’t stand you! I’m going to the library.” She stalked out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron staring at her aghast, his mouth still full of sausage.
Luna turned back to Ginny. “Just like how your brother and Hermione can’t stand each other?”
“Oh, shut up,” Ginny said, growing uneasy at the thought that Luna might just have been right.
~
Author notes: Hope you enjoyed this! I plan to continue with a couple more chapters. :)
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