Ginny clutched her arms closer to herself as she hurried down the shadowy corridor. She wished that she had brought a cloak to wear now. It was easy to forget how cold a draughty castle could be when sitting beside a fire in the Gryffindor common room, but, chilled or not, she was determined to see Myrtle. She had to know if Draco Malfoy really was supposed to be her destiny.
An odd scuffling sound suddenly started from further up the hallway. Ginny quickly retreated into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall in an attempt to blend with the stone. She gasped in surprise as she found herself not colliding with hard concrete as she had expected, but slipping right through the wall and into a pair of strong arms. A hand quickly clamped over her mouth before she could make a noise.
"Don't move," a male voice whispered from somewhere close to her ear.
Though her first instinct was to lash out, something told her not to struggle. She relaxed as best as she could in the boy's arms and listened intently as the scuffling noise drew closer. It occurred to her that the sound was actually footsteps, and that what she thought had been a wall had in fact been a rather faded tapestry.
"Where are they, my sweet?" Mr Filch's unwelcome voice murmured from behind the material hiding the two students.
Ginny instinctively pressed herself back against the boy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by Filch. Her companion seemed to have the same idea, and he drew them both back further into the secret passage. She made no complaint and was quite content to remain in the security of his arms as she waited in tense silence for her fate. For once, Fortune seemed to be on her side, and the caretaker mumbled something about sardines and then continued his shuffling progress down the corridor.
The redhead let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The boy also relaxed, and she suddenly became aware of his arm still wrapped around her waist and the hand he had pressed against her mouth. She would be lying if she said she was not affected by his proximity, but the more rational part of her brain reminded her that she still had no idea who this person was or if he was someone whom she wanted to snuggle against, even if the cool, masculine scent he wore was heavenly. Ginny turned in his arms to face him only to stop short in horror as she took in his grey eyes and silvery-blond hair, which were unmistakable even in the dim light. She abruptly tugged his hand away from her mouth.
"Malfoy!" she growled.
"Weasley," he responded in what was almost a purr.
Her treacherous knees threatened to give out on her at the sound of that velvety voice, but she resisted the impulse to melt into a puddle at his feet. That would just be too degrading.
"You can let go of me now," she ordered sharply.
"Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? Because I said so, idiot!"
"And what if I don't?"
Her heart gave a funny stutter in her chest. "Well, that's just—I mean—"
Draco forced her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him, and his grey eyes gleamed wickedly. "You talk too much, Weasley."
Before she could even make a retort, his lips were suddenly pressed against hers. Ginny was too stunned to protest, and he took advantage of her submissiveness and deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. She instinctively closed her eyes, and somehow her hands found their way to his hair, and she was kissing him back with wanton abandon. There was no restraint, no hesitation – nothing but raw, unadulterated passion.
"No!" Ginny screamed in her head. "I don't want this!"
"There's no point in fighting it, Ginevra," a voice which sounded uncannily like Myrtle's told her. "This is your destiny."
"It's not! I refuse to let it be!"
Draco, who had apparently learnt to hear other people's thoughts, stepped back from her and stared at her through serious grey eyes. "But what about the children?"
"What?" Ginny exclaimed, momentarily diverted from her tirade.
"Our children, love," he said solemnly. "You can't forget the children."
"Children?" she repeated stupidly.
A small boy and girl, who looked remarkably like miniature versions of Draco and herself, suddenly appeared in front of her. Both hailed her lovingly by the name of 'Mamma' and threw their arms around her legs, hugging her tightly. She looked down into their adoring faces, her own sickeningly pale, and then her gaze drifted to the handsome blond by her side who was watching her with a sappy smile.
That was when Ginny awoke screaming in her four-poster bed.
There was much scuffling and murmurs, and then the crimson curtains were wrenched back from around her. Four faces peered down at her with a mixture of concern and frustration. Ginny immediately stopped screaming as she realised that she had been dreaming, though she still felt considerably shaken. It had all been so vivid.
"What's wrong?" one of the girls asked, taking a seat on the edge of the redhead's bed. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"Was it about the war?" a curly-haired blonde asked sympathetically.
"Worse," Ginny mumbled into her knees. "Draco Malfoy was smiling at me, and I had children!"
The Gryffindor girls exchanged startled glances.
"Oh," a short, raven-haired girl commented blankly. "How awful."
"It was horrible," Ginny continued, quite oblivious to her dorm-mates' lack of empathy. "The children were even wearing matching outfits!"
"Well, that's certainly something to scream about," the blonde muttered, rolling her eyes.
The other girls giggled at this rather sarcastic response, but Ginny ignored them. She was too consumed with horror to really pay attention to what her dorm mates were doing. This nightmare had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, and she was terrified lest it should come true because of Myrtle's prediction. No matter how much she may have reluctantly admitted that she found Draco Malfoy attractive, she had no desire to snog the blond, let alone bear his children.
There must be a way to stop the prophecy from coming true, Ginny thought desperately.
Hadn't people always said that one's future was what one made it? Why couldn't she make her own destiny, then? If Draco Malfoy really was fated to be with her, there should be no reason why she couldn't make him not want to do so through her own conscious actions. It wasn't like it was written in stone that they should be together. She still despised everything about him, and he, as far as she knew, was not particularly smitten with her. Myrtle's prediction was still just that – a prediction. If Ginny had her way that was what it would remain, too.
Ginny smiled grimly to herself. It was time destiny learnt why it was not wise to mess with an irate redhead.
oOo
Five days had passed since Ginny had suffered the dreaded nightmare. True to her word, she had gone out of her way to be particularly vicious to Draco Malfoy in the hopes of revoking the prophecy, but the infuriating blond seemed to not care in the slightest that she was being nasty to him; in fact, most of the time he just laughed at her. She couldn't understand it. Her brother could get the blond riled up so easily, yet her efforts, which were much cleverer in her opinion, only seemed to be a source of amusement to the Slytherin. He should be wishing her dead by now, but the only thing she appeared to have achieved with him was an increase in those horrible, smug smiles of his. She was quite certain that if she went crazy, it would be because of those smirks.
"If you keep clenching your quill like that, you're going to break it," Hermione commented from behind the cover of the fat tome she called 'light reading'.
Ginny resisted the urge to make a snappy retort and placed her quill with forced calm back on the table. Unfortunately, that did nothing to soothe her irritated nerves or make her forget how much she loathed Draco Malfoy. She sighed heavily and rested her chin on her hand as she stared absently at the rows of bookshelves surrounding her. She wished she could get the blond out of her head, but he and his horrible smirks refused to fade from her mind. It was like having a constant itch that she could not scratch.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, lowering the tome to reveal a pair of concerned brown eyes.
"I don't want to talk about," Ginny muttered sourly.
She knew that Hermione was the last person who she could talk to about her destiny problems. Hermione didn't believe in Myrtle's prophecies, but Ginny was uncomfortably aware of the fact that those ridiculous predictions were all coming true. No doubt the bushy-haired brunette would claim it was simply coincidence, but how many times could one make that excuse? Ginny had thought that Goyle getting top marks in the Charms test was the icing on the cake, but that was before she discovered that it had been predicted that Colin Creevey and Pansy Parkinson would become boyfriend and girlfriend – which they had.
Things were getting dangerously out of hand here, and Ginny didn't like it one bit.
A laugh from the neighbouring table caught Ginny's attention, and she glanced up to see the blond who had caused her so many sleepless nights take a seat with the group of Slytherins. She had been so caught up with her brooding that she hadn't even noticed that he had entered the library.
Ginny clenched her hands into fists and her mouth levelled into a grim line. The urge to throw something at him or just hex him with a really good curse was almost overwhelming. It infuriated her to see him lounging completely at his ease, looking as handsome and arrogant as ever, while she was continuously plagued with dread. He didn't have to worry about evil prophecies or the treacherous thoughts of his own mind. He could be happy and relaxed with not a care in the world, and she—she felt like she was on the brink of insanity.
"Ginny!" Luna exclaimed, dancing towards the redhead with her radish earrings swinging madly. "Guess what I discovered!"
"What?" Ginny muttered absently, her attention still fixed on the Slytherin sitting only a few seats away.
"If you and Malfoy have babies, they'll have pink hair!"
Ginny froze in her seat and then turned horrified eyes on the cheerfully oblivious blonde. She could see in her mind the image of those two children from her nightmare, matching clothes and all, and she suddenly felt very ill. Her wild gaze darted to Draco as the realisation of what she would have to do to get those children suddenly occurred to her, and then her thoughts strayed to those other parts of her dream – the parts that she had refused to let herself dwell on. She could feel his hand on her waist, pulling her closer, and then his handsome face was swimming before her as he lowered his lips to hers...
"NO!" Ginny screamed, standing abruptly up from her chair.
Luna blinked in shock, but the redhead was already pushing past her and levelled her blazing eyes on the Slytherin. Without even thinking of the consequences, Ginny launched herself at him, knocking them both to the ground as his chair toppled over from the impact. They struggled together for a moment, and then he managed to flip her over and pin her down underneath him.
"Are you crazy?" he demanded, all signs of amusement gone from his face.
Ginny breathed heavily as she scowled up at him, and her eyes burned with unrestrained fury. All she wanted was to make him feel her frustration, but he was making that quite impossible when he was holding her down so firmly. She struggled to break free, but this only had the unhappy effect of making him tighten his grip.
"You're hurting me," she complained while still trying to wriggle out from underneath him.
"It's no more than you deserve," he retorted coldly, but he relaxed his hold on her all the same. "Be thankful that I'm a gentleman, or I'd show you what I think of your psychotic behaviour."
She snorted. "Why don't you show me what a real gentleman you are and get off me!"
His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. "And here I thought you wanted to be close."
Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Just let me go, Malfoy."
"Why?" he asked with his evil little smirk.
A horrible sense of déjà vu stole over her, and her face drained of all colour as she realised that his dream-self had said the exact same thing to her before he kissed her.
"Oh, don't!" Ginny wailed in obvious distress, and she started twisting about even more desperately underneath him to break free from his hold.
Draco looked stunned by her behaviour, but before he could say anything there was a loud shriek of outrage.
"What's going on here?" Madam Pince demanded, placing her hands on her nonexistent hips and glowering down at them like a snorting rhinoceros.
The blond glanced up at the stick-like librarian in surprise, and Ginny took advantage of his distracted state and shoved him hard, sending him sprawling backwards with a groan. She quickly scrambled away from him and then made a run for it, completely ignoring Madam Pince's shouts and Luna and Hermione's shocked faces. Tears of pure frustration streamed down her cheeks as she sprinted down the hallway, and she only stopped when she was a safe distance from the library.
Ginny leant back against the wall with her eyes screwed up tight to hold back the tears that continued to flow. She wasn't even sure why she was crying, only that she was just so angry. All she had wanted was to make Draco despise her so that the prophecy couldn't come true, but then Luna had to go and say that her and Draco's babies would have pink hair, and Ginny hadn't been able to contain herself. Her only thought was to stop the prophecy, even if it meant hurting the blond to the point where he couldn't procreate if he wanted to. Of course, then he had to go and trap her underneath him and say those horrible words, which had put all kinds of treacherous thoughts in her mind. So she had panicked, and she had fled, and now she was quite certain that she would never be able to face the blond again.
"Why?" she groaned to herself, banging her head back against the wall. "Why did I have to lose my temper?"
If she had just kept her cool, none of this would have happened. Unfortunately, Ginny had not been able to restrain herself, and the prophecy that she had been trying so hard to stop now seemed even likelier to come true.
"No!" Ginny growled to herself. "I won't have it!"
She grimly wiped the tears from her cheeks and then made her way through the castle until she got to Myrtle's bathroom. Ginny thrust open the door and stormed inside with a determined expression on her face. She spotted Myrtle hovering above her favourite cubicle, droning morosely. The redhead's eyes narrowed to thin slits.
"I need you to make a new prophecy for me," Ginny demanded.
"What for?"
"Because I refuse to have Draco Malfoy as my destiny!"
"Fate doesn't work that way, Ginevra," Myrtle responded loftily. "I'm afraid you're stuck with him."
"Rubbish! I'm sure you can make a new prediction about me and put me with someone else."
"I don't see what good it would do even if I could."
"Well, obviously it would mean that I can't fall in love with Draco Malfoy because I'll be destined to be with another boy."
Myrtle gave an annoying titter. "I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this. Don't you like Draco?"
"NO!"
"Well, there's no need to shout at me," the ghost responded, drawing herself up to her full height. "And I don't see why I should do anything for you at all when you're being so rude and ungrateful."
Ginny bit back the admittedly rude retort that sprang to her lips and decided to try a different approach.
"Please, Myrtle," she begged, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture, "please make a new prediction for me. I can't bear to be with Malfoy. I'll even be happy with Crabbe or Goyle, just please not Malfoy."
"I already told you that I can't help you. You'll just have to accept it."
"Please!" Ginny cried desperately. "I'll do anything! I'll come spend every day with you to keep you company if you like, just please make a new prophecy for me."
"Do you think I can be bargained with?" Myrtle retorted with a haughty sniff. "I'm a Seer, not some cheap fortune teller to be bought!"
"Oh, Merlin, now she's putting on her airs," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Ginny said hastily. "I was, er, just saying that, um—" She gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Myrtle, why can't you just make a new prophecy for me? I'm telling you that I can't be with Draco Malfoy!"
Myrtle folded her arms and an uncannily Slytherin-like smirk spread across her features. "Is that so? Because it seems to me that the reason you're so desperate for me to make a new prophecy is because you are falling for him. You're just scared," she finished triumphantly.
"I am not scared!"
"Then prove it."
Ginny stuck her chin out defiantly. "I don't need to prove anything to you!"
Myrtle shrugged her shoulders. "Then don't. It really makes no difference to me. My prediction will still come true. They always do."
"Well, this one won't."
"I'm a Seer. Of course it will come true."
Ginny stamped her foot. "You're not a Seer! You're nothing but a stupid ghost who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are so you make horrible prophecies about them! But I won't play your game, Myrtle! Draco Malfoy is not my destiny! And I won't fall in love with him! I'd sooner fall in love with a troll!"
"I don't think very much of your taste, then."
The redhead clutched her hair and gave a strangled sort of scream. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you to deserve Draco Malfoy?"
"But don't you see, Ginevra? It's got nothing to do with me. You were the one who chose Draco Malfoy for your destiny."
Ginny pinched herself just to make sure that she wasn't having another nightmare, but the sharp sting of pain told her the sad truth. This was really happening, and Myrtle was indeed telling her that it was her own fault that Draco Malfoy was destined to be with her.
"Face it, Ginevra," Myrtle continued. "You have no one to blame but yourself."
Ginny's eyes flashed. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about!"
Myrtle only cackled and then swooped down into her toilet, leaving the redhead seething alone in the bathroom. Ginny glowered at the floor where she could hear the ghost still gurgling with laughter from within the pipes. Stupid Moaning Myrtle. What did she know, anyway?
The image of Draco leaning over her in the library suddenly flashed before her eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat as she remembered how it had felt to have her body pressed up against every inch of his. He certainly wasn't a runt under those thick robes of his, though he was more slender than muscular. Not that it was a bad thing.
"Oh, my gosh!" Ginny cried in disgust. "I'm assessing Draco Malfoy's body!" She clutched her hands to her head and gave it a small shake as if to jolt the thoughts out of her head. "Don't think about it, Ginny! Think of Hagrid wearing a pink thong. Hagrid wearing a pink thong." She pulled a face. "Okay, don't think of that."
"Uh, Ginny?"
Ginny swung around and blushed fierily as she saw Hermione and Luna staring at her in some concern, though it must be noted that Luna's concern was a lot less judgemental. No doubt she enjoyed talking to herself as well.
"I thought you would be here," Luna said triumphantly. "It's about the prophecy, isn't it?"
"What prophecy?" Hermione asked, frowning. "And were you just imagining Hagrid in a pink thong?"
Ginny's blush deepened. "Uh, yeah, but that doesn't matter now. I was just trying to distract my thoughts."
"Distract your thoughts from what?" Luna asked slyly.
"I don't want to hear another word from you, Luna," Ginny snapped irritably. "Especially if it has something to do with pink-haired babies."
"Sorry," Luna replied, genuinely remorseful. "I didn't know it would have such an effect on you. You'll be pleased to know that Draco doesn't seem to be holding it against you, though. He seemed quite amused, actually."
"Amused?" Ginny cried in despair. "Does nothing bother him?"
"Well, you did run away after tackling him. I don't think anyone could take that seriously."
"Yes, about that," Hermione interposed gravely. "What on earth is wrong with you, Ginny? Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?"
Ginny placed her head in her hands with a groan. "Can we not talk about this now? Maybe it hasn't occurred to you, but I'm having a bit of a mid-life crisis here and would like to be left alone!"
"You can't have a mid-life crisis when you're only sixteen," Hermione argued, always a stickler for particulars.
"I don't care!" Ginny cried exasperatedly. "Just go away, Hermione!"
"Well, there's no need to be like that," Hermione responded stiffly. "I was only trying to help."
"Yeah, well, you're not helping!"
"Come on, Hermione," Luna said, taking the brunette's arm. "Let's leave Ginny to have her tantrum alone. I'm sure she'll get over it in her own time."
Ginny scowled at Luna and then glanced the other way as the two girls left without a further word. Now that she was alone again, though, she suddenly realised that she did not want to be. There was nothing to distract her thoughts now, and all she could think of was that frustratingly attractive blond who had taken such deep root in her mind.
"That's it!" Ginny declared to no one in particular. "I can't take this anymore."
And so she did what she had always done when she needed to let off some steam; she went to the Quidditch pitch and flew on her broom until she could fly no more. Everyone who saw the redhead knew to stay clear of her. It was obvious that Ginny Weasley was in one of her moods, and that to speak to her would be to incur her wrath upon them. However, Harry Potter was not afraid of said Weasley's temper and had no qualms in interrupting her solitary venting session, though it must be noted that his sense for self-preservation was decidedly under par.
"Ginny!" Harry shouted as he stared up at her from the ground. "Come down! I need to talk to you!"
Ginny glanced down to see the Gryffindor boy waving at her. She sighed and landed on the ground next to him.
"What?" she said shortly.
"Did you attack Malfoy today?"
"Don't tell me the gossip is already spreading around the castle?"
"Well, actually, it was Snape who approached me. The Slytherins in the library who saw you attack Malfoy thought you were purposely trying to sabotage their Seeker and requested you not be allowed to play on Friday."
"And what did Snape say?"
"He said—" and here Harry put on Snape's deep, acerbic voice "—Miss Weasley was more likely just having another of her tantrums. Kindly ask her to control that ridiculous temper of hers before I do decide to ban her from playing Quidditch."
"What a git!"
"But at least he's still letting you play," Harry pointed out. "Seriously though, Ginny, can you please try not to lose your temper again. I know you hate Malfoy, but we can't risk this. The game between Gryffindor and Slytherin is on Friday and if you're banned from playing, we'll have to forfeit."
"I know," she said, hanging her head. "I'm sorry, and I promise it won't happen again."
"Good," Harry replied with a relieved sigh. "Oh, and don't forget that we have a practise tomorrow evening."
"I won't forget."
"Right." He stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I don't suppose you've seen Luna around, have you?"
"Luna?" Ginny repeated, puzzled. "Why do you want to talk to her?"
"N-nothing," Harry stammered, going a bit pink in the face. "I was just wondering."
"Okay..."
Harry muttered something undistinguishable and then he quickly turned away from her and walked back towards the castle. Ginny stared at his retreating figure in some perplexity. Was it possible that Harry had a thing for Loony Luna Lovegood?
"Well, I guess stranger things have happened," Ginny mumbled, thinking of Pansy and Colin's odd relationship, which, to her at least, seemed to defy all logic.
That, of course, got her thinking about her own 'destined' love-match made by Myrtle. She sighed heavily to herself. She didn't know what to do about that, but right now she had more important things to worry about. The game that would decide the House Cup was on Friday, and to win she knew that she had to get the Snitch before Draco Malfoy. She couldn't afford to let her own feelings for the blond (which were not romantic!) distract her.
Ginny sighed again and decided to call it a night. She would just go to bed and hope that tomorrow would bring some miraculous answer to her problems. After all, she didn't exactly like the blond, and there was still the off-chance that Myrtle's prophecy might not come true. It was just a prediction. It wasn't like it had the power to make her fall in love with him. At least, she hoped it didn't.
She glanced up at the afternoon sky with a desperate expression on her face. "Please," she begged to whatever deities were listening. "Please let me find a way to get out of this. I'll do anything, just please let me find a way to stop the prophecy!"
An odd scuffling sound suddenly started from further up the hallway. Ginny quickly retreated into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall in an attempt to blend with the stone. She gasped in surprise as she found herself not colliding with hard concrete as she had expected, but slipping right through the wall and into a pair of strong arms. A hand quickly clamped over her mouth before she could make a noise.
"Don't move," a male voice whispered from somewhere close to her ear.
Though her first instinct was to lash out, something told her not to struggle. She relaxed as best as she could in the boy's arms and listened intently as the scuffling noise drew closer. It occurred to her that the sound was actually footsteps, and that what she thought had been a wall had in fact been a rather faded tapestry.
"Where are they, my sweet?" Mr Filch's unwelcome voice murmured from behind the material hiding the two students.
Ginny instinctively pressed herself back against the boy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by Filch. Her companion seemed to have the same idea, and he drew them both back further into the secret passage. She made no complaint and was quite content to remain in the security of his arms as she waited in tense silence for her fate. For once, Fortune seemed to be on her side, and the caretaker mumbled something about sardines and then continued his shuffling progress down the corridor.
The redhead let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The boy also relaxed, and she suddenly became aware of his arm still wrapped around her waist and the hand he had pressed against her mouth. She would be lying if she said she was not affected by his proximity, but the more rational part of her brain reminded her that she still had no idea who this person was or if he was someone whom she wanted to snuggle against, even if the cool, masculine scent he wore was heavenly. Ginny turned in his arms to face him only to stop short in horror as she took in his grey eyes and silvery-blond hair, which were unmistakable even in the dim light. She abruptly tugged his hand away from her mouth.
"Malfoy!" she growled.
"Weasley," he responded in what was almost a purr.
Her treacherous knees threatened to give out on her at the sound of that velvety voice, but she resisted the impulse to melt into a puddle at his feet. That would just be too degrading.
"You can let go of me now," she ordered sharply.
"Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? Because I said so, idiot!"
"And what if I don't?"
Her heart gave a funny stutter in her chest. "Well, that's just—I mean—"
Draco forced her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him, and his grey eyes gleamed wickedly. "You talk too much, Weasley."
Before she could even make a retort, his lips were suddenly pressed against hers. Ginny was too stunned to protest, and he took advantage of her submissiveness and deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. She instinctively closed her eyes, and somehow her hands found their way to his hair, and she was kissing him back with wanton abandon. There was no restraint, no hesitation – nothing but raw, unadulterated passion.
"No!" Ginny screamed in her head. "I don't want this!"
"There's no point in fighting it, Ginevra," a voice which sounded uncannily like Myrtle's told her. "This is your destiny."
"It's not! I refuse to let it be!"
Draco, who had apparently learnt to hear other people's thoughts, stepped back from her and stared at her through serious grey eyes. "But what about the children?"
"What?" Ginny exclaimed, momentarily diverted from her tirade.
"Our children, love," he said solemnly. "You can't forget the children."
"Children?" she repeated stupidly.
A small boy and girl, who looked remarkably like miniature versions of Draco and herself, suddenly appeared in front of her. Both hailed her lovingly by the name of 'Mamma' and threw their arms around her legs, hugging her tightly. She looked down into their adoring faces, her own sickeningly pale, and then her gaze drifted to the handsome blond by her side who was watching her with a sappy smile.
That was when Ginny awoke screaming in her four-poster bed.
There was much scuffling and murmurs, and then the crimson curtains were wrenched back from around her. Four faces peered down at her with a mixture of concern and frustration. Ginny immediately stopped screaming as she realised that she had been dreaming, though she still felt considerably shaken. It had all been so vivid.
"What's wrong?" one of the girls asked, taking a seat on the edge of the redhead's bed. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"Was it about the war?" a curly-haired blonde asked sympathetically.
"Worse," Ginny mumbled into her knees. "Draco Malfoy was smiling at me, and I had children!"
The Gryffindor girls exchanged startled glances.
"Oh," a short, raven-haired girl commented blankly. "How awful."
"It was horrible," Ginny continued, quite oblivious to her dorm-mates' lack of empathy. "The children were even wearing matching outfits!"
"Well, that's certainly something to scream about," the blonde muttered, rolling her eyes.
The other girls giggled at this rather sarcastic response, but Ginny ignored them. She was too consumed with horror to really pay attention to what her dorm mates were doing. This nightmare had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, and she was terrified lest it should come true because of Myrtle's prediction. No matter how much she may have reluctantly admitted that she found Draco Malfoy attractive, she had no desire to snog the blond, let alone bear his children.
There must be a way to stop the prophecy from coming true, Ginny thought desperately.
Hadn't people always said that one's future was what one made it? Why couldn't she make her own destiny, then? If Draco Malfoy really was fated to be with her, there should be no reason why she couldn't make him not want to do so through her own conscious actions. It wasn't like it was written in stone that they should be together. She still despised everything about him, and he, as far as she knew, was not particularly smitten with her. Myrtle's prediction was still just that – a prediction. If Ginny had her way that was what it would remain, too.
Ginny smiled grimly to herself. It was time destiny learnt why it was not wise to mess with an irate redhead.
Five days had passed since Ginny had suffered the dreaded nightmare. True to her word, she had gone out of her way to be particularly vicious to Draco Malfoy in the hopes of revoking the prophecy, but the infuriating blond seemed to not care in the slightest that she was being nasty to him; in fact, most of the time he just laughed at her. She couldn't understand it. Her brother could get the blond riled up so easily, yet her efforts, which were much cleverer in her opinion, only seemed to be a source of amusement to the Slytherin. He should be wishing her dead by now, but the only thing she appeared to have achieved with him was an increase in those horrible, smug smiles of his. She was quite certain that if she went crazy, it would be because of those smirks.
"If you keep clenching your quill like that, you're going to break it," Hermione commented from behind the cover of the fat tome she called 'light reading'.
Ginny resisted the urge to make a snappy retort and placed her quill with forced calm back on the table. Unfortunately, that did nothing to soothe her irritated nerves or make her forget how much she loathed Draco Malfoy. She sighed heavily and rested her chin on her hand as she stared absently at the rows of bookshelves surrounding her. She wished she could get the blond out of her head, but he and his horrible smirks refused to fade from her mind. It was like having a constant itch that she could not scratch.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, lowering the tome to reveal a pair of concerned brown eyes.
"I don't want to talk about," Ginny muttered sourly.
She knew that Hermione was the last person who she could talk to about her destiny problems. Hermione didn't believe in Myrtle's prophecies, but Ginny was uncomfortably aware of the fact that those ridiculous predictions were all coming true. No doubt the bushy-haired brunette would claim it was simply coincidence, but how many times could one make that excuse? Ginny had thought that Goyle getting top marks in the Charms test was the icing on the cake, but that was before she discovered that it had been predicted that Colin Creevey and Pansy Parkinson would become boyfriend and girlfriend – which they had.
Things were getting dangerously out of hand here, and Ginny didn't like it one bit.
A laugh from the neighbouring table caught Ginny's attention, and she glanced up to see the blond who had caused her so many sleepless nights take a seat with the group of Slytherins. She had been so caught up with her brooding that she hadn't even noticed that he had entered the library.
Ginny clenched her hands into fists and her mouth levelled into a grim line. The urge to throw something at him or just hex him with a really good curse was almost overwhelming. It infuriated her to see him lounging completely at his ease, looking as handsome and arrogant as ever, while she was continuously plagued with dread. He didn't have to worry about evil prophecies or the treacherous thoughts of his own mind. He could be happy and relaxed with not a care in the world, and she—she felt like she was on the brink of insanity.
"Ginny!" Luna exclaimed, dancing towards the redhead with her radish earrings swinging madly. "Guess what I discovered!"
"What?" Ginny muttered absently, her attention still fixed on the Slytherin sitting only a few seats away.
"If you and Malfoy have babies, they'll have pink hair!"
Ginny froze in her seat and then turned horrified eyes on the cheerfully oblivious blonde. She could see in her mind the image of those two children from her nightmare, matching clothes and all, and she suddenly felt very ill. Her wild gaze darted to Draco as the realisation of what she would have to do to get those children suddenly occurred to her, and then her thoughts strayed to those other parts of her dream – the parts that she had refused to let herself dwell on. She could feel his hand on her waist, pulling her closer, and then his handsome face was swimming before her as he lowered his lips to hers...
"NO!" Ginny screamed, standing abruptly up from her chair.
Luna blinked in shock, but the redhead was already pushing past her and levelled her blazing eyes on the Slytherin. Without even thinking of the consequences, Ginny launched herself at him, knocking them both to the ground as his chair toppled over from the impact. They struggled together for a moment, and then he managed to flip her over and pin her down underneath him.
"Are you crazy?" he demanded, all signs of amusement gone from his face.
Ginny breathed heavily as she scowled up at him, and her eyes burned with unrestrained fury. All she wanted was to make him feel her frustration, but he was making that quite impossible when he was holding her down so firmly. She struggled to break free, but this only had the unhappy effect of making him tighten his grip.
"You're hurting me," she complained while still trying to wriggle out from underneath him.
"It's no more than you deserve," he retorted coldly, but he relaxed his hold on her all the same. "Be thankful that I'm a gentleman, or I'd show you what I think of your psychotic behaviour."
She snorted. "Why don't you show me what a real gentleman you are and get off me!"
His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. "And here I thought you wanted to be close."
Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Just let me go, Malfoy."
"Why?" he asked with his evil little smirk.
A horrible sense of déjà vu stole over her, and her face drained of all colour as she realised that his dream-self had said the exact same thing to her before he kissed her.
"Oh, don't!" Ginny wailed in obvious distress, and she started twisting about even more desperately underneath him to break free from his hold.
Draco looked stunned by her behaviour, but before he could say anything there was a loud shriek of outrage.
"What's going on here?" Madam Pince demanded, placing her hands on her nonexistent hips and glowering down at them like a snorting rhinoceros.
The blond glanced up at the stick-like librarian in surprise, and Ginny took advantage of his distracted state and shoved him hard, sending him sprawling backwards with a groan. She quickly scrambled away from him and then made a run for it, completely ignoring Madam Pince's shouts and Luna and Hermione's shocked faces. Tears of pure frustration streamed down her cheeks as she sprinted down the hallway, and she only stopped when she was a safe distance from the library.
Ginny leant back against the wall with her eyes screwed up tight to hold back the tears that continued to flow. She wasn't even sure why she was crying, only that she was just so angry. All she had wanted was to make Draco despise her so that the prophecy couldn't come true, but then Luna had to go and say that her and Draco's babies would have pink hair, and Ginny hadn't been able to contain herself. Her only thought was to stop the prophecy, even if it meant hurting the blond to the point where he couldn't procreate if he wanted to. Of course, then he had to go and trap her underneath him and say those horrible words, which had put all kinds of treacherous thoughts in her mind. So she had panicked, and she had fled, and now she was quite certain that she would never be able to face the blond again.
"Why?" she groaned to herself, banging her head back against the wall. "Why did I have to lose my temper?"
If she had just kept her cool, none of this would have happened. Unfortunately, Ginny had not been able to restrain herself, and the prophecy that she had been trying so hard to stop now seemed even likelier to come true.
"No!" Ginny growled to herself. "I won't have it!"
She grimly wiped the tears from her cheeks and then made her way through the castle until she got to Myrtle's bathroom. Ginny thrust open the door and stormed inside with a determined expression on her face. She spotted Myrtle hovering above her favourite cubicle, droning morosely. The redhead's eyes narrowed to thin slits.
"I need you to make a new prophecy for me," Ginny demanded.
"What for?"
"Because I refuse to have Draco Malfoy as my destiny!"
"Fate doesn't work that way, Ginevra," Myrtle responded loftily. "I'm afraid you're stuck with him."
"Rubbish! I'm sure you can make a new prediction about me and put me with someone else."
"I don't see what good it would do even if I could."
"Well, obviously it would mean that I can't fall in love with Draco Malfoy because I'll be destined to be with another boy."
Myrtle gave an annoying titter. "I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this. Don't you like Draco?"
"NO!"
"Well, there's no need to shout at me," the ghost responded, drawing herself up to her full height. "And I don't see why I should do anything for you at all when you're being so rude and ungrateful."
Ginny bit back the admittedly rude retort that sprang to her lips and decided to try a different approach.
"Please, Myrtle," she begged, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture, "please make a new prediction for me. I can't bear to be with Malfoy. I'll even be happy with Crabbe or Goyle, just please not Malfoy."
"I already told you that I can't help you. You'll just have to accept it."
"Please!" Ginny cried desperately. "I'll do anything! I'll come spend every day with you to keep you company if you like, just please make a new prophecy for me."
"Do you think I can be bargained with?" Myrtle retorted with a haughty sniff. "I'm a Seer, not some cheap fortune teller to be bought!"
"Oh, Merlin, now she's putting on her airs," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Ginny said hastily. "I was, er, just saying that, um—" She gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Myrtle, why can't you just make a new prophecy for me? I'm telling you that I can't be with Draco Malfoy!"
Myrtle folded her arms and an uncannily Slytherin-like smirk spread across her features. "Is that so? Because it seems to me that the reason you're so desperate for me to make a new prophecy is because you are falling for him. You're just scared," she finished triumphantly.
"I am not scared!"
"Then prove it."
Ginny stuck her chin out defiantly. "I don't need to prove anything to you!"
Myrtle shrugged her shoulders. "Then don't. It really makes no difference to me. My prediction will still come true. They always do."
"Well, this one won't."
"I'm a Seer. Of course it will come true."
Ginny stamped her foot. "You're not a Seer! You're nothing but a stupid ghost who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are so you make horrible prophecies about them! But I won't play your game, Myrtle! Draco Malfoy is not my destiny! And I won't fall in love with him! I'd sooner fall in love with a troll!"
"I don't think very much of your taste, then."
The redhead clutched her hair and gave a strangled sort of scream. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you to deserve Draco Malfoy?"
"But don't you see, Ginevra? It's got nothing to do with me. You were the one who chose Draco Malfoy for your destiny."
Ginny pinched herself just to make sure that she wasn't having another nightmare, but the sharp sting of pain told her the sad truth. This was really happening, and Myrtle was indeed telling her that it was her own fault that Draco Malfoy was destined to be with her.
"Face it, Ginevra," Myrtle continued. "You have no one to blame but yourself."
Ginny's eyes flashed. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about!"
Myrtle only cackled and then swooped down into her toilet, leaving the redhead seething alone in the bathroom. Ginny glowered at the floor where she could hear the ghost still gurgling with laughter from within the pipes. Stupid Moaning Myrtle. What did she know, anyway?
The image of Draco leaning over her in the library suddenly flashed before her eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat as she remembered how it had felt to have her body pressed up against every inch of his. He certainly wasn't a runt under those thick robes of his, though he was more slender than muscular. Not that it was a bad thing.
"Oh, my gosh!" Ginny cried in disgust. "I'm assessing Draco Malfoy's body!" She clutched her hands to her head and gave it a small shake as if to jolt the thoughts out of her head. "Don't think about it, Ginny! Think of Hagrid wearing a pink thong. Hagrid wearing a pink thong." She pulled a face. "Okay, don't think of that."
"Uh, Ginny?"
Ginny swung around and blushed fierily as she saw Hermione and Luna staring at her in some concern, though it must be noted that Luna's concern was a lot less judgemental. No doubt she enjoyed talking to herself as well.
"I thought you would be here," Luna said triumphantly. "It's about the prophecy, isn't it?"
"What prophecy?" Hermione asked, frowning. "And were you just imagining Hagrid in a pink thong?"
Ginny's blush deepened. "Uh, yeah, but that doesn't matter now. I was just trying to distract my thoughts."
"Distract your thoughts from what?" Luna asked slyly.
"I don't want to hear another word from you, Luna," Ginny snapped irritably. "Especially if it has something to do with pink-haired babies."
"Sorry," Luna replied, genuinely remorseful. "I didn't know it would have such an effect on you. You'll be pleased to know that Draco doesn't seem to be holding it against you, though. He seemed quite amused, actually."
"Amused?" Ginny cried in despair. "Does nothing bother him?"
"Well, you did run away after tackling him. I don't think anyone could take that seriously."
"Yes, about that," Hermione interposed gravely. "What on earth is wrong with you, Ginny? Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?"
Ginny placed her head in her hands with a groan. "Can we not talk about this now? Maybe it hasn't occurred to you, but I'm having a bit of a mid-life crisis here and would like to be left alone!"
"You can't have a mid-life crisis when you're only sixteen," Hermione argued, always a stickler for particulars.
"I don't care!" Ginny cried exasperatedly. "Just go away, Hermione!"
"Well, there's no need to be like that," Hermione responded stiffly. "I was only trying to help."
"Yeah, well, you're not helping!"
"Come on, Hermione," Luna said, taking the brunette's arm. "Let's leave Ginny to have her tantrum alone. I'm sure she'll get over it in her own time."
Ginny scowled at Luna and then glanced the other way as the two girls left without a further word. Now that she was alone again, though, she suddenly realised that she did not want to be. There was nothing to distract her thoughts now, and all she could think of was that frustratingly attractive blond who had taken such deep root in her mind.
"That's it!" Ginny declared to no one in particular. "I can't take this anymore."
And so she did what she had always done when she needed to let off some steam; she went to the Quidditch pitch and flew on her broom until she could fly no more. Everyone who saw the redhead knew to stay clear of her. It was obvious that Ginny Weasley was in one of her moods, and that to speak to her would be to incur her wrath upon them. However, Harry Potter was not afraid of said Weasley's temper and had no qualms in interrupting her solitary venting session, though it must be noted that his sense for self-preservation was decidedly under par.
"Ginny!" Harry shouted as he stared up at her from the ground. "Come down! I need to talk to you!"
Ginny glanced down to see the Gryffindor boy waving at her. She sighed and landed on the ground next to him.
"What?" she said shortly.
"Did you attack Malfoy today?"
"Don't tell me the gossip is already spreading around the castle?"
"Well, actually, it was Snape who approached me. The Slytherins in the library who saw you attack Malfoy thought you were purposely trying to sabotage their Seeker and requested you not be allowed to play on Friday."
"And what did Snape say?"
"He said—" and here Harry put on Snape's deep, acerbic voice "—Miss Weasley was more likely just having another of her tantrums. Kindly ask her to control that ridiculous temper of hers before I do decide to ban her from playing Quidditch."
"What a git!"
"But at least he's still letting you play," Harry pointed out. "Seriously though, Ginny, can you please try not to lose your temper again. I know you hate Malfoy, but we can't risk this. The game between Gryffindor and Slytherin is on Friday and if you're banned from playing, we'll have to forfeit."
"I know," she said, hanging her head. "I'm sorry, and I promise it won't happen again."
"Good," Harry replied with a relieved sigh. "Oh, and don't forget that we have a practise tomorrow evening."
"I won't forget."
"Right." He stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I don't suppose you've seen Luna around, have you?"
"Luna?" Ginny repeated, puzzled. "Why do you want to talk to her?"
"N-nothing," Harry stammered, going a bit pink in the face. "I was just wondering."
"Okay..."
Harry muttered something undistinguishable and then he quickly turned away from her and walked back towards the castle. Ginny stared at his retreating figure in some perplexity. Was it possible that Harry had a thing for Loony Luna Lovegood?
"Well, I guess stranger things have happened," Ginny mumbled, thinking of Pansy and Colin's odd relationship, which, to her at least, seemed to defy all logic.
That, of course, got her thinking about her own 'destined' love-match made by Myrtle. She sighed heavily to herself. She didn't know what to do about that, but right now she had more important things to worry about. The game that would decide the House Cup was on Friday, and to win she knew that she had to get the Snitch before Draco Malfoy. She couldn't afford to let her own feelings for the blond (which were not romantic!) distract her.
Ginny sighed again and decided to call it a night. She would just go to bed and hope that tomorrow would bring some miraculous answer to her problems. After all, she didn't exactly like the blond, and there was still the off-chance that Myrtle's prophecy might not come true. It was just a prediction. It wasn't like it had the power to make her fall in love with him. At least, she hoped it didn't.
She glanced up at the afternoon sky with a desperate expression on her face. "Please," she begged to whatever deities were listening. "Please let me find a way to get out of this. I'll do anything, just please let me find a way to stop the prophecy!"
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