Getting Personal

CHAPTER 3

Ginny guessed that by the furious look on Malfoy's face, he had been standing there quite a while.

Harry just stared at him, unsure of what to do.

"Let. Go." He jabbed his wand into Harry's forehead. "Now."

Harry dropped Ginny's wrists and shot her a disgusted look, then turned and walked off.

Ginny rubbed her wrists and glanced up at Draco, unsure of what to say. "Thanks," she told him finally.

A group of Slytherin's poured from the Great Hall, directly behind Malfoy just as he opened his mouth to speak. But as he heard their voices behind him, he let his eyes slide slowly down from her face all the way to her worn black and red Converse shoes poking out from beneath her robes, back up, and then turned on his heel and left.

Ginny nearly threw her hands up in disgust as she stomped into the Great Hall. What kind of person asked you to the dance, rescued you, and then walked off without even asking how you were doing? Ginny was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn't even realize until she took a long drink of her Pumpkin Juice, that she was sitting directly across from Ron and Hermione and they were staring. Ginny didn't even make an attempt to cover up her audible groan.

"Harry was looking for you," Ron said cheerfully.

"I know," she snapped.

"He was?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "What did he want?"

Ginny chose to ignore the both of them and shoveled a spoon of potatoes into her mouth instead.

"He was going to ask her to the ball," Ron said, looking confused.

"What?" Hermione asked, her voice rising. "Did he?"

Ginny nodded and swallowed. "Yeah."

There was a brief silence.

"Well?" Ron prompted.

"I already have a date."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"With who?" her brother demanded.

Ginny closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Why did life suddenly have to get so completely and totally confusing? She had spent nearly three years adoring Harry, and even though it was probably just a crush, he had decided to show interest when she decided to get over him. The worst part was, she had no idea what she really wanted. True, everything about Draco Malfoy was incredibly intriguing and appealing, but with him, she could never be sure, and Harry was, well, now he was just Harry. It might, she considered, but fun to kiss him just once or twice and see what that was like, but-

"Well?" Ron was still staring at her.

"Why don't you ask Harry?" she said sourly.

"I thought you liked Harry."

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed. "That was years ago."

"It was not," he protested. "It was, well . . . I thought you still did."

"Did you put him up to this?" Ginny demanded.

"No," he shook his head. "It was his idea."

Ginny slammed her fork back down on the table. "Well I'm going to see if Madam Pince will let me back in the library since Harry got me thrown out."

"Harry did?" Ron asked, his confusion growing.

Ginny stood and left the room, still unsure why she was so angry. Maybe I should just go to the ball with Neville. That would be less dramatic. Ginny walked, lost in thought, until she found herself on the seventh floor. It was eerily silent and cold up there with all the unused classrooms. She smiled to herself, recalling the time she had spent up here last year, practicing with the D.A.

"Recalling memories, Weasley?" a low voice behind her asked. "Remembering how I caught you last year?"

Ginny turned around to face Malfoy. "Not exactly."

"Then what?"

She shrugged. "I was going back to the library, and . . . What are you doing up here?"

"Following you," he said simply.

For a brief moment, Ginny allowed her eyes to drink in his pale hair and eyes, the perfect shape of his pink lips, and let her eyes slide down his robes. "What do you want?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" he demanded, his eyes locking into hers.

"You're not exactly trustworthy," she told him, leaning against the wall.

"Maybe I'm a different person," he answered, stepping closer.

"Maybe. But maybe not."

"I guess there's nothing to do but wait and find out, is there?" He was so close to Ginny, she could see individual silvery eyelashes and feel his warm breath against her cheek. He reached up and slip the straps of her back pack off her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a dull thunk, and his lips grazed the tops of hers.

***

"I think it's a good thing," Hermione told her that night, after she had crept back into bed.

"You do?" Ginny asked, disbelieving.

"Well, yes. Remember the song the Sorting Hat sang last year? And this year? It said we'll only be strong if we unite. I know Harry and Ron can't see it now, but if Malfoy is really interested in you, it could be a good thing."

"He could only be interested in me because he is Malfoy and he can't think of anything better to do to make Ron and Harry furious."

Hermione bit her lower lip and nodded. "That's true. They are angry. What do you think?"

"I don't know," Ginny sighed, tying her red hair up behind her. "I have no idea."

"Well, I guess the ball will be a good time for you to find out more."

Ginny groaned and buried her face in her pillow. "I'm not going."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Have you seen my dress robes? They're horrible."

"What's wrong with them?" Hermione asked.

"They're not as bad as Ron's old ones, but they have a couple holes in the seam, plus they're too short. Remember Draco's robes last time? They were nice," Ginny pouted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron and Harry made fun of them for weeks. Said he looked like a priest."

Ginny cracked a smile. "I guess I'll write Fred and George and beg them."
"No wait!" Hermione grabbed her hand. "Come here."

Ginny followed her into the next dorm room.

"Look," Hermione whispered loudly, using her wand to light the space in front of her trunk. "What about this? My parents bought these, but they're just not me. My mum always wanted me to be more of a girly girl, you know." She held up a gorgeous robe made of a fairly bold shade of pink. It had a dipped neckline, wide sleeves, and even a slit on the left side of the dress.

"It's beautiful," Ginny breathed.

"Try it on."

They scurried to the girl's restroom, and Ginny held the gown in front of her. "I don't know. Pink with my hair?"

"Just try it. I think it will work."

Breakfast Monday morning was awkward, with both Harry and Ron ignoring Ginny. She ate as fast as she could and then quickly dashed off to her first class. Usually she met up with some of the other 5^th years to study before Monday morning potions, but today, she would just be extra early.

"Hey," an angry voice rang out as Ginny clattered down the steps to the dungeon. She turned and found her self face to face with Pansy Parkinson. "Hey."

"Yes?" Ginny asked testily.

"Did Draco ask you to the dance?" Pansy stepped closer to Ginny.

"What?"

"That's what everyone is saying."

Ginny shrugged. "People say a lot of things."

"Did he?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Pansy's lips narrowed and her nostril's flared. "Because for some reason he won't talk to me!"

"That's not my problem," Ginny shrugged. "I don't control him."

"It's going to be your problem," Pansy hissed, standing straighter, but failing to become taller than Ginny.

"Somehow, I'm just not scared," she said coldly.

Pansy yanked her robe out of her pocket.

"Ms. Parkinson!" Snape's voice pierced the still air.

Ginny let a smile cross her lips. "Not scared at all," she whispered.

"What is going on?" Snape demanded, stepping between them.

"Just going to class to meet my study group, Professor," Ginny told him. "And having this lovely little chat with Pansy."

Snape frowned at her but said nothing. "Move along, Ms. Parkinson."

Snape was never as hard on Ginny as he had been on Fred, George, Ron, Harry, or even Hermione. She always did well in his class, because she was actually interested. Some of the potions seemed like they might be valuable one day. Ginny followed Snape down the dungeon stairs and waited until he had unlocked the door. "Thank you, sir."

"Why are you here so early, Ms. Weasley?" he demanded, letting her in.

"Just meeting some of the other students to study," she reminded him, dropping her bag beside her usual desk.

"This early?" His tone was bored and uninterested, but Ginny knew better.

"Harry and Ron aren't speaking to me," she shrugged. "Breakfast was a bit uncomfortable." She knew that if Pansy was hearing rumors, Snape probably was too.

Snape looked as if he was going to say more, but when Helena Hedricks, Bianca, and Winston Morehouse filed in sleepily, he nodded his head curtly and left the room.

CHAPTER 4

Ginny decided secretly that she like Draco's dress robes this year much better than the ones from two years previous. They were black of course, and made of a thick, muted satin or silk, Ginny wasn't sure. She was reminded of the few photos she had seen of Muggle cowboys from the century before, and as ludicrous as it was to think of Draco as a cowboy, a strange tingling was spreading through her legs, making them weak.

The new tables in the Great Hall were small, most holding about a dozen, and Ginny suddenly grew nervous. What if they had to share a table with Crabbe and Goyle? Or Pansy and her date? Or worse, Ron and Hermione, or Harry and- Ginny scanned the room. She had no idea who Harry's date was. To her relief, she had him and Parvati already sharing a small table with Ron and Hermione, who had finally gotten their act together and decided to go to the ball as a couple.

"Did I tell you that you look absolutely gorgeous?" Draco asked quietly, his breath heavy and warm against Ginny's exposed neck.

"Thank you," she smiled, swallowing the butterflies that had surged up in her throat. "You look nice too."

Ginny's nerves began to die down as they shared a table with several couples from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw whom she did not know and Luna and Neville who were far to interested in each other to notice anyone around them.

"Come with me," Draco tugged on the sleeve of her pink robe after they had danced to several songs.

"Where are we going?" she asked apprehensively. She had heard far too many rumors about students getting carried away and getting caught at previous Balls.

"Just to talk," he answered, a slight smirk on his face. "Worried you won't be able to resist me?"

"Hardly," she retorted, doubting her own words as Draco laced his fingers through hers. The moon was high above them, so with the help of the tiny fairies in the bushes, the night was well lit. The moonlight didn't bounce off Draco's hair the way she would have expected though, it seemed to be absorbed into in, making it darker, and making his features more shadowed and more exotic. He was absolutely, positively, deliciously gorgeous, and right then Ginny decided she had fallen head first for him. Or at least her hormones had.

"Here," Draco sat down on one of the stone benches that had been placed in the rose garden. It was plenty well hidden from the main path, but not so secretive they could be accused of anything. He sat with his back against the left arm rest and stretched his legs across the seat. "Sit here."

Gingerly, Ginny eased herself down on his lap, feeling stiff and uncomfortable until Draco pulled her head towards his and kissed her. Ginny didn't know exactly how much time had passed by the time she came up for air, but was certain that the moon had shifted.

"I have something to tell you," Draco said finally. "Several things, actually."

"Yeah?" Ginny could unconsciously feel herself holding her breath; she always felt like this around Draco, as if she was waiting for the punch line.

"Do you remember what Dumbledore has been telling us all year?" His arms were still wrapped tightly around her waist, and their faces were pressed side by side.

"About uniting?"

"Uh huh. And what the Sorting Hat sang this year? And last year?" His arms tensed at her side.

"I remember."

"Did you ever get the feeling that they were referring to me and Potter?"

Ginny remained momentarily silent. She had thought that. So had Hermione. Probably a lot of other people had also. But really, who could imagine that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would be able to tolerate each other long enough to defeat You Know Who? Ginny wished with all her heart that there was no threat of evil, no Death Eaters, no war, no fights. She wished she could just curl up in Draco's lap and stay that way. "Yeah," she finally answered.

"It's going to be soon," Draco told her. "Really soon."

"What is?" she asked, confused.

"The end. Of one of them."

"How do you know?" Ginny asked fearfully.

"My father." His silver eyes were glowing dark.

"Maybe you should talk to Harry."

Draco snorted. "Right."

Ginny was confused. Did Draco want to help Harry? Did he want You Know Who to lose? Everyone automatically assumed Draco was practically a Death Eater in training.

"I won't be like my father," he said quietly, reading Ginny's mind. "But I don't know if I can bring myself to side with Potter."

Ginny spoke slowly. "Maybe if you don't side with Potter, you'll have no other choice."

Draco went silent, and leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, long and hard. "There was one other thing."

Ginny opened her eyes, and let her fingers remain at his collar.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Weasley."

Ginny jumped and looked up. Snape's dark form was looming over them. "Did you not hear the clock?"

Ginny shook her head weakly.

"No sir," Draco spoke up. "We didn't."

"It is after 12. After curfew. I'll have to take points for this," Snape told them crossly.

Ginny stood up quickly and smoothed the front of her robes. "I'm sorry, sir."

She and Draco followed him back into the castle. In the entrance hall, McGonagall and several other professors were still talking. "Ms. Weasley," McGonagall sputtered.

"I have already taken away points," Snape informed her coolly. "And they actually were just talking."

"Goodnight," Draco whispered in her ear, leaning close and daring to kiss her cheek before turning to the stairs that lead down to the Slytherin dorms.

***

Draco ignored the looks of his fellow house mates and headed straight up the stairs to his room. He heard Crabbe and Goyle following behind him, so when he entered the room, he quickly pulled off his dress robes and slipped on his flannel night pants. "I'm tired," he told them flatly. He climbed into his bed and pulled the emerald curtains around him.

He wasn't tired though. His head was crammed with thoughts and emotions running unruly across his brain. Ginny. Voldemort. Ginny. Death Eaters. His father. Ginny. Sex. Red hair. Death. Ginny. The way Ginny had looked in her pink robes with her smooth chest exposed and just the very top imaginary hint of cleavage uncovered. The firm way her body had pressed into his, fitting nicely, when she sat in his lap. Ginny. Death Eaters. Ginny. The way her lips just begged to be kissed and how her chocolate colored eyes could flutter upwards when he drew his finger down her neck from her ear to her shoulder.

For more than a year he had been plagued with the nagging feeling that the Sorting Hat had been referring to him and Harry, and then when Dumbledore began giving the speeches, Draco knew without a doubt they meant him. But what was he supposed to do? That's where he was confused. When his father had broken out of Azkaban the previous summer he had went on and on about Draco's duty to the family and the Dark Lord. Draco hadn't said it out loud, but he knew that his duty was only to himself, not to some crazy Dark Lord. There was no way he was going to be a slave to someone else the way his father was. He couldn't figure out for the life of him why his father was so eager to head up Muggle torture for the Dark Lord, when the loon was half Muggle himself.

And then there was Ginny. Ginny Weasley. The other Slytherin's talked about her a lot, at least the males did. She was beautiful with her flaming red hair and attitude to match. But she was a Weasley, so he refused to be interested. Then, just the year before, on the train ride home from Hogwarts, she had taken all the hexes off him that he had received on the train. And it was true, he had deserved each and every one, but Ginny had walked by the luggage compartment, done a double take, and then removed his hexes. Before he could ask her why, she had walked off.

Her face had haunted him all summer, as well as other features of her body. He refused to let himself believe that he actually liked her; he wrote it off as hormones, but she still didn't leave his head. Even as recently as that morning he was still trying to convince himself that he was only interested in what she could offer him physically. Deep beneath his façade, the real Draco Malfoy was laughing at him, telling him he was going to be one sad person if he let Ginny get away. With a groan, Draco rolled out of his bed and pulled on a thin undershirt. He crept down the stairs and found the common room empty and growing chilly. He edged quietly out of the dungeon, up several flights of stairs, and down a hall until he was standing in front of a large portrait of a fat lady, snoring heavily. He took a deep breath and hoped Pansy had been right when she said the Gryffindor password was Yuletide Greetings.