Every morning when she entered the Great Hall, Ginny would brace herself for what must surely be the derisive, knowing smirks from the Slytherins, to whom Malfoy must surely have related the incident. But every morning, there were none. Strangely enough, whenever they encountered each other between classes – a situation Ginny had strenuously been trying to avoid – although they still argued, he never alluded to The Night Her Hormones Said Hi. But every morning she would see grey eyes pinning her over a glass of pumpkin juice, and a twisted smile that reminded her of the cat that ate the canary. It was driving her mad. He had to be planning something! Ginny decided to ignore him. If anything, she would deny everything.
She was never one for plans, though.
On the fourth day, Ginny snapped. She accosted him as he was leaving the library late one night. “What are you playing at, Malfoy?”
“What are you talking about?” He was watching her with a lazy grin that plainly said he knew intimately what she was talking about.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“What’s to tell?”
“You know…” Ginny stopped herself. Perhaps Malfoy hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary after all! Perhaps she’d been less transparent than she’d thought! “Nothing,” she amended hastily. “Well, I’ll be off,” she said, giving him a big fake grin and trying to side-step him.
No such luck. He stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “I notice you’re no longer mute.”
Damn. So he had noticed. “Go away, Malfoy.”
“You didn’t seem that eager for me to leave a few nights ago.”
Ginny sputtered. “That sounded wrong.” It registered that the fingers he had around her wrist were now lightly grazing her pulse. Ginny tried not to shiver. Control, Ginny. Control. Think of McGonagall and Snape making out—Eurgh. Right. That was helpful. Finally gaining control over her bodily functions – really, was that too much to ask for? –, she shook off his hand.
“Oh, that was exactly how I intended it to sound. And don’t think I failed to notice that you haven’t denied a word.”
“I refuse to allow your head to get bigger than it already is,” Ginny replied loftily, then mentally cursed herself for implying what she had.
“So you did enjoy the view,” Draco mused. He toyed with the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, and Ginny could hear the warning bells going off in her head. Do not undo the cuffs! I repeat, do not undo the cuffs! While this would not have had any effect a few days earlier, knowing what lay under the shirt caused this simple action to be elevated into a strip tease of sorts.
Malfoy languidly undid a cuff, and then another. Damn him and his sneaky, underhanded Slytherin ways! He had to know the effect he was having on her! How absolutely infuriating.
“It’s all hormones, Malfoy,” Ginny told him hotly, trying to convince herself of the fact. “It’s a simple biological response!”
“Nevertheless, it’s a response, isn’t it? Makes you want to… lose control, doesn’t it?” He raked his eyes over her, slowly rolling up his sleeves, exposing nicely muscled forearms.
Ginny swallowed. Images from The Night Her Hormones Ran Wild were already playing in her mind. Malfoy with nothing but a towel on. Malfoy with water trickling down his chest. Malfoy unwrapping his towel and… STOP! She had to get away from him as quickly as possible. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had something for this.
“Why are you undressing in front of me?” Ginny demanded, trying her darnedest not to sound hysterical. Damn she was going nuts. Undone by a pair of forearms!
“Undressing, Weasley? I was under the impression that that was the part you liked watching best.”
“I—that was only—why, you—” A thousand retorts should have risen to her tongue then, but somehow Ginny’s mind was a blank. “Next time, lock the door when you’re taking a bath!” she snapped. And then she did the only thing that could save her in the situation. She turned and fled.
~
Luna was, as always, incredibly unhelpful. She pointed out that Ginny had been the one to seek Malfoy out, and not vice versa, and suggested that she actually enjoyed these encounters, flustered as they left her. She also maintained that they were flirting and, when Ginny had gotten up to leave in an indignant huff, told her to let her (Luna) know when she finally realised that she was half in love with Draco Malfoy.
Pfft. In love! With Draco Malfoy! Ginny supposed there was a reason they called her Loony Lovegood after all.
But as Ginny lay in bed that night, she considered what Luna had said. Did she really seek Malfoy out? Did they – Merlin forbid – flirt? During their daily hallway encounters she would feel a thrill of excitement course through her, and afterwards it would be a few minutes before her heart rate returned to normal, but wasn’t that just the adrenaline that resulted from verbal sparring? And, all right, she conceded that Malfoy was rather witty and made her laugh in spite of his meanness sometimes, and he was really quite good looking – this she couldn’t deny after The Night Her Hormones Took Over Her Brain – but she couldn’t possibly like him, could she? He was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! Although it had been established that he wasn’t going down the Death Eater route, and she didn’t really hate him anymore, he was still rude and obnoxious and fully convinced of his own superiority.
And he had been the biggest prat that day! Undressing in the hallway like some—like some—scarlet man! The more rational part of her brain interjected that you couldn’t really consider rolling up one’s sleeves undressing. But it was more the way he had done it! With such deliberate, slow movements! The anticipation of it had made her hold her breath. He had to have known the effect it’d have on her.
Well, clearly her mind hadn’t fully erased the image of a half-naked Malfoy from its archives just yet. Ginny reasoned that it had only been a couple of days. Give it a few more and Malfoy would be just another pretty boy, no longer to occupy her waking (and sleeping) thoughts.
~
Fat lot of good one week did, Ginny thought uncharitably as she got up early as usual on Saturday morning and went to the Great Hall alone. She liked her Saturday mornings; during the week she was much too tired to get up early but on Saturdays she would bounce out of bed, buoyed by the thought of the weekend. She would sit at the table alone – Gryffindors were generally not early risers – and enjoy her eggs and tea in relative quiet, a book open in front of her. But this week her mood was ruined by the thought of one Draco Malfoy, and the fact that one week had proved insufficient to get him out of her system. Besides the conviction that he was plotting her downfall in some way or another, he featured strongly in her mind in… other ways. Ginny couldn’t help the blush that crept up her neck at the thought.
As Ginny sipped on her tea her eyes traversed the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws were disgustingly early risers; the table was nearly filled. The Hufflepuff table was half-filled with chirpy students, gathered in one large group. And the Slytherin table was empty save for a couple of small groups, here and there, and… Draco Malfoy, who was sitting across Blaise Zabini, another seventh year Slytherin.
Merlin. Would the nightmare never end? Ginny watched as he bit into a scone, apparently unaware that he was under scrutiny. It wasn’t as if she had never seen him sans robes before (school robes were not mandatory outside of classes), but now that she had witnessed firsthand what lay under those robes, his clothes took on a whole other dimension. The light grey sweater he was wearing hugged what she knew to be his broad shoulders and defined chest. Ginny tried not to drool into her porridge.
Suddenly Malfoy straightened up and looked her way. Their eyes locked, and his mouth slowly curved into a smile. Damn him. Damn that smile. That smile could melt a glacier at twenty paces. Ginny could feel her face beginning to heat up, and then she felt furious with her body for acting like this. What was wrong with her? She refused to give him the satisfaction of the upper hand; she would not look away. After a few seconds, Ginny thought she had to look away soon or her heart would likely burst from her chest. Malfoy had some really intense eyes. And she was distantly aware of a rustling sound beside her. She turned to see a sleek, proud-looking owl holding an envelope in its beak. Before she could do anything, the owl had dropped the envelope on her lap and flown away. She turned it over in her hand. Ginny Weasley, it said on the envelope. Curiously tearing it open, Ginny saw that the note was brief and to the point – Hogsmeade? D.M.
Breathing deeply, Ginny closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. She re-read the note. Yup, there was no mistaking what it said. Draco Malfoy might not have been the only person at Hogwarts with those initials, but it was clear from the way he was now smirking at her that he was the sender. She dared not contemplate what it might mean. He had to have a motive, of course. The million-galleon question was, what? He couldn’t really be asking her out. This had to be his way of slowly torturing her. Shoving the envelope into her pocket, Ginny was abjectly grateful for the fact that her brother and her friends were too much of pigs to wake up early on Saturday and be around to poke their noses into this.
Ginny saw Malfoy clap Zabini on the back and get up to leave. Abandoning her breakfast, she followed him out of the Great Hall, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Now that she was behind him, she could truly appreciate the way he looked in jeans, and she had to mentally shake herself to focus on the issue at hand.
He slowed as he turned a corner and paused as he reached a little-used corridor, as if knowing that she was behind him.
As always, she was the first to speak. “Hogsmeade, Malfoy?” she demanded, wanting to know what he meant by the note.
He raised an eyebrow. “I believe that was my line.”
“I wasn’t asking you to go! I merely—what in Merlin’s name was that note about?”
“Why, I knew you Weasleys were poor, but I thought you’d at least be literate.”
“I know what it said! I’m just—what’s your game? And perhaps you’re not very experienced, Malfoy, but when you ask someone out, it’s considered impolite to insult her family.”
“Oh, I am plenty experienced, Weasley, don’t you worry,” he promised, and she could just imagine just how experienced he was. There was a small unpleasant churning sensation in her belly at the thought of Malfoy with another girl, with many other girls.
“My point is, why are you doing this? I’m sure plenty of girls have found you... passable before. Why are you singling me out for torture?”
Draco snorted. “I’m certain that they, as well as you, find me much more than passable,” he said, earning him a glare. “And I would hardly call an invitation to Hogsmeade torture.”
Clearly, humility was not one of his strong suits. “Be serious, Malfoy. Is this your idea of a joke?”
“I am being serious, Ginevra,” he said, drawing out the syllables of her name. “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”
His hot gaze bore into hers and Ginny felt her stomach twist into knots. She realised that although she had been the one to confront him, he now had her backed against the wall, and her body was reacting in ways she did not consider quite acceptable. And what was that about being serious? If he really was asking her out… Ginny tried not to let him see her gulp. Quickly quashing the beginnings of a tiny flutter of hope, she pushed the thought out of her mind. He was not asking her out. This had to be all just a game to him. He was going to make her wait for him, and then his friends were going to pop out from a pillar and shriek, ‘What, did you really think he was going to come? Stupid Weasel! Hahahahahaha…’
No, she was not going to let herself hope. “Don’t toy with me, Malfoy.”
“Why are you so convinced that this is all a joke?” he asked, staring at her with that inscrutable gaze of his. It unnerved her completely.
“Because you hate me!” she blurted. And I hate you, she wanted to add. But then, a little voice in her head (which sounded suspiciously like Luna) said, this wasn’t really true now, was it?
“Whatever gave you that impression?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you can’t stand Weasleys.”
“Well, Ginevra, it would seem that you’re the exception.” His voice had dipped an octave, and the way he said it left no doubt in Ginny’s mind that he meant it. He leant in, and she could feel his breath on her ear as he said, “Say yes, Weaslette.” It sent tingles straight down her spine.
Ginny had to work hard to suppress a shudder. It was difficult to think straight, not when his body was so close that she could smell his cologne, an undeniably male scent that made her want to bury her nose in his shirt. It wasn’t fair that he could affect her this way without even trying! She wanted nothing more than to get away, and at the same time she wanted nothing more than to reach up and… Really, why was he leaning in so closely? It suddenly came to her. He was trying to seduce her! “You’re trying to seduce me!”
Draco blinked. “What?”
“I said, you’re trying…” Ginny began but faltered. Now that she had a moment’s pause to think about it, it seemed quite laughable that Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be trying to seduce her. In fact, it was downright ridiculous. The cologne must really be getting to her brain. “Uh— nothing!”
To her relief, Draco did not press the issue. He merely stared at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “How about this—let’s make a deal. You say yes, and I will make no mention of last week ever again.”
Ginny blinked. That actually sounded pretty good. “What’s in it for you?”
He shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
She considered him with appraising eyes. Was she curious enough to agree? Was she crazy enough? Infatuated enough? Was she going to regret it for the rest of her life if she agreed – or if she didn’t?
“Weasley, just say yes. Go to Hogsmeade with me this once, and I won’t bother you again.” His voice was light and even, but Ginny thought there was a slight wobble to it.
“All right,” she said finally. What? What was that coming out of her traitorous mouth? Her traitorous mouth argued (silently) that it couldn’t really be expected to refuse him when he was being all intense like this, could it? Well, she supposed it had a point.
“Good,” he said, nodding confidently, although Ginny thought she detected a hint of relief in his eyes. “I’ll see you next Saturday then.”
He turned to leave.
“Malfoy?”
He turned and raised an eyebrow.
“I…” Why had she called him? She had nothing to say, although she hadn’t wanted him to leave just yet. She forced herself to meet his eyes, challenging him. “I trust you’ll make it worth my while.”
His lips curved into a smirk then. “Of course, Weasley. Expect nothing less.”
As his footsteps echoed down the corridor, Ginny wondered just what she had gotten herself into.
~
Draco was ashamed to admit that he had planned it, right down to the clothes that he was wearing. He knew that Ginny found him attractive, and there was no shame in using that knowledge to his full advantage. Grey, of course, brought out his eyes, and the cashmere was thin enough to hug but not to cling, suggesting a defined musculature. His jeans were cut neither too baggy nor too tight, emphasising the length of his legs. The cologne was chosen specifically to seduce. Yeah, world domination didn’t come easily. She had nearly caught him out, but playing dumb had salvaged the situation. This was something Draco really wanted and he was working for it, just as he worked for every other thing important to him.
But given that this concerned a girl, Zabini would be shocked at his persistence. Hell, he was shocked at his persistence. He always had scores of girls willing to do his bidding, let alone go out with him, and here he was, pining over a girl who was clearly reluctant – more than reluctant, she was clearly unwilling – to go out with him. But he had asked and asked and she had finally relented. Malfoys never asked more than once, never begged or pleaded, but it seemed that Ginevra Weasley was unwittingly uprooting all his Malfoy traits one at a time.
~
She was never one for plans, though.
On the fourth day, Ginny snapped. She accosted him as he was leaving the library late one night. “What are you playing at, Malfoy?”
“What are you talking about?” He was watching her with a lazy grin that plainly said he knew intimately what she was talking about.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“What’s to tell?”
“You know…” Ginny stopped herself. Perhaps Malfoy hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary after all! Perhaps she’d been less transparent than she’d thought! “Nothing,” she amended hastily. “Well, I’ll be off,” she said, giving him a big fake grin and trying to side-step him.
No such luck. He stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “I notice you’re no longer mute.”
Damn. So he had noticed. “Go away, Malfoy.”
“You didn’t seem that eager for me to leave a few nights ago.”
Ginny sputtered. “That sounded wrong.” It registered that the fingers he had around her wrist were now lightly grazing her pulse. Ginny tried not to shiver. Control, Ginny. Control. Think of McGonagall and Snape making out—Eurgh. Right. That was helpful. Finally gaining control over her bodily functions – really, was that too much to ask for? –, she shook off his hand.
“Oh, that was exactly how I intended it to sound. And don’t think I failed to notice that you haven’t denied a word.”
“I refuse to allow your head to get bigger than it already is,” Ginny replied loftily, then mentally cursed herself for implying what she had.
“So you did enjoy the view,” Draco mused. He toyed with the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, and Ginny could hear the warning bells going off in her head. Do not undo the cuffs! I repeat, do not undo the cuffs! While this would not have had any effect a few days earlier, knowing what lay under the shirt caused this simple action to be elevated into a strip tease of sorts.
Malfoy languidly undid a cuff, and then another. Damn him and his sneaky, underhanded Slytherin ways! He had to know the effect he was having on her! How absolutely infuriating.
“It’s all hormones, Malfoy,” Ginny told him hotly, trying to convince herself of the fact. “It’s a simple biological response!”
“Nevertheless, it’s a response, isn’t it? Makes you want to… lose control, doesn’t it?” He raked his eyes over her, slowly rolling up his sleeves, exposing nicely muscled forearms.
Ginny swallowed. Images from The Night Her Hormones Ran Wild were already playing in her mind. Malfoy with nothing but a towel on. Malfoy with water trickling down his chest. Malfoy unwrapping his towel and… STOP! She had to get away from him as quickly as possible. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had something for this.
“Why are you undressing in front of me?” Ginny demanded, trying her darnedest not to sound hysterical. Damn she was going nuts. Undone by a pair of forearms!
“Undressing, Weasley? I was under the impression that that was the part you liked watching best.”
“I—that was only—why, you—” A thousand retorts should have risen to her tongue then, but somehow Ginny’s mind was a blank. “Next time, lock the door when you’re taking a bath!” she snapped. And then she did the only thing that could save her in the situation. She turned and fled.
~
Luna was, as always, incredibly unhelpful. She pointed out that Ginny had been the one to seek Malfoy out, and not vice versa, and suggested that she actually enjoyed these encounters, flustered as they left her. She also maintained that they were flirting and, when Ginny had gotten up to leave in an indignant huff, told her to let her (Luna) know when she finally realised that she was half in love with Draco Malfoy.
Pfft. In love! With Draco Malfoy! Ginny supposed there was a reason they called her Loony Lovegood after all.
But as Ginny lay in bed that night, she considered what Luna had said. Did she really seek Malfoy out? Did they – Merlin forbid – flirt? During their daily hallway encounters she would feel a thrill of excitement course through her, and afterwards it would be a few minutes before her heart rate returned to normal, but wasn’t that just the adrenaline that resulted from verbal sparring? And, all right, she conceded that Malfoy was rather witty and made her laugh in spite of his meanness sometimes, and he was really quite good looking – this she couldn’t deny after The Night Her Hormones Took Over Her Brain – but she couldn’t possibly like him, could she? He was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! Although it had been established that he wasn’t going down the Death Eater route, and she didn’t really hate him anymore, he was still rude and obnoxious and fully convinced of his own superiority.
And he had been the biggest prat that day! Undressing in the hallway like some—like some—scarlet man! The more rational part of her brain interjected that you couldn’t really consider rolling up one’s sleeves undressing. But it was more the way he had done it! With such deliberate, slow movements! The anticipation of it had made her hold her breath. He had to have known the effect it’d have on her.
Well, clearly her mind hadn’t fully erased the image of a half-naked Malfoy from its archives just yet. Ginny reasoned that it had only been a couple of days. Give it a few more and Malfoy would be just another pretty boy, no longer to occupy her waking (and sleeping) thoughts.
~
Fat lot of good one week did, Ginny thought uncharitably as she got up early as usual on Saturday morning and went to the Great Hall alone. She liked her Saturday mornings; during the week she was much too tired to get up early but on Saturdays she would bounce out of bed, buoyed by the thought of the weekend. She would sit at the table alone – Gryffindors were generally not early risers – and enjoy her eggs and tea in relative quiet, a book open in front of her. But this week her mood was ruined by the thought of one Draco Malfoy, and the fact that one week had proved insufficient to get him out of her system. Besides the conviction that he was plotting her downfall in some way or another, he featured strongly in her mind in… other ways. Ginny couldn’t help the blush that crept up her neck at the thought.
As Ginny sipped on her tea her eyes traversed the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws were disgustingly early risers; the table was nearly filled. The Hufflepuff table was half-filled with chirpy students, gathered in one large group. And the Slytherin table was empty save for a couple of small groups, here and there, and… Draco Malfoy, who was sitting across Blaise Zabini, another seventh year Slytherin.
Merlin. Would the nightmare never end? Ginny watched as he bit into a scone, apparently unaware that he was under scrutiny. It wasn’t as if she had never seen him sans robes before (school robes were not mandatory outside of classes), but now that she had witnessed firsthand what lay under those robes, his clothes took on a whole other dimension. The light grey sweater he was wearing hugged what she knew to be his broad shoulders and defined chest. Ginny tried not to drool into her porridge.
Suddenly Malfoy straightened up and looked her way. Their eyes locked, and his mouth slowly curved into a smile. Damn him. Damn that smile. That smile could melt a glacier at twenty paces. Ginny could feel her face beginning to heat up, and then she felt furious with her body for acting like this. What was wrong with her? She refused to give him the satisfaction of the upper hand; she would not look away. After a few seconds, Ginny thought she had to look away soon or her heart would likely burst from her chest. Malfoy had some really intense eyes. And she was distantly aware of a rustling sound beside her. She turned to see a sleek, proud-looking owl holding an envelope in its beak. Before she could do anything, the owl had dropped the envelope on her lap and flown away. She turned it over in her hand. Ginny Weasley, it said on the envelope. Curiously tearing it open, Ginny saw that the note was brief and to the point – Hogsmeade? D.M.
Breathing deeply, Ginny closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. She re-read the note. Yup, there was no mistaking what it said. Draco Malfoy might not have been the only person at Hogwarts with those initials, but it was clear from the way he was now smirking at her that he was the sender. She dared not contemplate what it might mean. He had to have a motive, of course. The million-galleon question was, what? He couldn’t really be asking her out. This had to be his way of slowly torturing her. Shoving the envelope into her pocket, Ginny was abjectly grateful for the fact that her brother and her friends were too much of pigs to wake up early on Saturday and be around to poke their noses into this.
Ginny saw Malfoy clap Zabini on the back and get up to leave. Abandoning her breakfast, she followed him out of the Great Hall, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Now that she was behind him, she could truly appreciate the way he looked in jeans, and she had to mentally shake herself to focus on the issue at hand.
He slowed as he turned a corner and paused as he reached a little-used corridor, as if knowing that she was behind him.
As always, she was the first to speak. “Hogsmeade, Malfoy?” she demanded, wanting to know what he meant by the note.
He raised an eyebrow. “I believe that was my line.”
“I wasn’t asking you to go! I merely—what in Merlin’s name was that note about?”
“Why, I knew you Weasleys were poor, but I thought you’d at least be literate.”
“I know what it said! I’m just—what’s your game? And perhaps you’re not very experienced, Malfoy, but when you ask someone out, it’s considered impolite to insult her family.”
“Oh, I am plenty experienced, Weasley, don’t you worry,” he promised, and she could just imagine just how experienced he was. There was a small unpleasant churning sensation in her belly at the thought of Malfoy with another girl, with many other girls.
“My point is, why are you doing this? I’m sure plenty of girls have found you... passable before. Why are you singling me out for torture?”
Draco snorted. “I’m certain that they, as well as you, find me much more than passable,” he said, earning him a glare. “And I would hardly call an invitation to Hogsmeade torture.”
Clearly, humility was not one of his strong suits. “Be serious, Malfoy. Is this your idea of a joke?”
“I am being serious, Ginevra,” he said, drawing out the syllables of her name. “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”
His hot gaze bore into hers and Ginny felt her stomach twist into knots. She realised that although she had been the one to confront him, he now had her backed against the wall, and her body was reacting in ways she did not consider quite acceptable. And what was that about being serious? If he really was asking her out… Ginny tried not to let him see her gulp. Quickly quashing the beginnings of a tiny flutter of hope, she pushed the thought out of her mind. He was not asking her out. This had to be all just a game to him. He was going to make her wait for him, and then his friends were going to pop out from a pillar and shriek, ‘What, did you really think he was going to come? Stupid Weasel! Hahahahahaha…’
No, she was not going to let herself hope. “Don’t toy with me, Malfoy.”
“Why are you so convinced that this is all a joke?” he asked, staring at her with that inscrutable gaze of his. It unnerved her completely.
“Because you hate me!” she blurted. And I hate you, she wanted to add. But then, a little voice in her head (which sounded suspiciously like Luna) said, this wasn’t really true now, was it?
“Whatever gave you that impression?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you can’t stand Weasleys.”
“Well, Ginevra, it would seem that you’re the exception.” His voice had dipped an octave, and the way he said it left no doubt in Ginny’s mind that he meant it. He leant in, and she could feel his breath on her ear as he said, “Say yes, Weaslette.” It sent tingles straight down her spine.
Ginny had to work hard to suppress a shudder. It was difficult to think straight, not when his body was so close that she could smell his cologne, an undeniably male scent that made her want to bury her nose in his shirt. It wasn’t fair that he could affect her this way without even trying! She wanted nothing more than to get away, and at the same time she wanted nothing more than to reach up and… Really, why was he leaning in so closely? It suddenly came to her. He was trying to seduce her! “You’re trying to seduce me!”
Draco blinked. “What?”
“I said, you’re trying…” Ginny began but faltered. Now that she had a moment’s pause to think about it, it seemed quite laughable that Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be trying to seduce her. In fact, it was downright ridiculous. The cologne must really be getting to her brain. “Uh— nothing!”
To her relief, Draco did not press the issue. He merely stared at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “How about this—let’s make a deal. You say yes, and I will make no mention of last week ever again.”
Ginny blinked. That actually sounded pretty good. “What’s in it for you?”
He shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
She considered him with appraising eyes. Was she curious enough to agree? Was she crazy enough? Infatuated enough? Was she going to regret it for the rest of her life if she agreed – or if she didn’t?
“Weasley, just say yes. Go to Hogsmeade with me this once, and I won’t bother you again.” His voice was light and even, but Ginny thought there was a slight wobble to it.
“All right,” she said finally. What? What was that coming out of her traitorous mouth? Her traitorous mouth argued (silently) that it couldn’t really be expected to refuse him when he was being all intense like this, could it? Well, she supposed it had a point.
“Good,” he said, nodding confidently, although Ginny thought she detected a hint of relief in his eyes. “I’ll see you next Saturday then.”
He turned to leave.
“Malfoy?”
He turned and raised an eyebrow.
“I…” Why had she called him? She had nothing to say, although she hadn’t wanted him to leave just yet. She forced herself to meet his eyes, challenging him. “I trust you’ll make it worth my while.”
His lips curved into a smirk then. “Of course, Weasley. Expect nothing less.”
As his footsteps echoed down the corridor, Ginny wondered just what she had gotten herself into.
~
Draco was ashamed to admit that he had planned it, right down to the clothes that he was wearing. He knew that Ginny found him attractive, and there was no shame in using that knowledge to his full advantage. Grey, of course, brought out his eyes, and the cashmere was thin enough to hug but not to cling, suggesting a defined musculature. His jeans were cut neither too baggy nor too tight, emphasising the length of his legs. The cologne was chosen specifically to seduce. Yeah, world domination didn’t come easily. She had nearly caught him out, but playing dumb had salvaged the situation. This was something Draco really wanted and he was working for it, just as he worked for every other thing important to him.
But given that this concerned a girl, Zabini would be shocked at his persistence. Hell, he was shocked at his persistence. He always had scores of girls willing to do his bidding, let alone go out with him, and here he was, pining over a girl who was clearly reluctant – more than reluctant, she was clearly unwilling – to go out with him. But he had asked and asked and she had finally relented. Malfoys never asked more than once, never begged or pleaded, but it seemed that Ginevra Weasley was unwittingly uprooting all his Malfoy traits one at a time.
~
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