By Ekai Ungson
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter the series, characters and places copyright J.K. Rowling. Used without permission.
He stared—rather, glowered—at her, summoning all of his contempt to project itself at her through his eyes. He was managing what he could properly say was the most hateful look of his life.
But she stared up at him with no fright nor hate in her eyes, instead, he found himself staring at calm eyes devoid of any other feeling than serenity, and a somewhat remote amusement and bemusement combined.
He clenched and unclenched his fist against the wall, where he had her effectively pinned. Not that she needed pinning. His earlier violence had elicited nothing from her, and neither was she making attempts to free herself now.
"Well? Are you just going to stand there, Malfoy?" she asked, a smirk on her face.
He did not deign her a reply. Quiet malevolence was key. Maintaining his glare, he moved to observe her but not free her. Her eyes—an indeterminate shade of green or blue—were obviously waiting for an answer. He was not giving her that satisfaction. Her hair, tied on the back of her head messily, that red hair in that precise scandalous shade. It made him mad, for some reason. Everything about her made him mad, from the freckles on her face to the second hand robes she was wearing to the worn shoes on her feet. She was infuriating.
"I dare you," he began, "to repeat what you told me earlier."
Her eyes narrowed and he saw the mirth reflected in them. Was she mocking him?
"Pity, Malfoy, I don't quite remember what I said. Refresh my memory?" she asked in a deliberately sweet tone. "Or would you rather I made it up from scratch again?"
He let out a low, primeval snarl.
"Oh, I'm getting to you, aren't I?" she asked with barely disguised amusement. "This is almost too easy. And I wonder why Ron never gets the same effect."
"It's because your brother is an inept creature with intelligence far lower than that of mine," he replied with relish.
He did not get what he wanted from her. "Well," she began. "I suppose that's true—Ron being of low intelligence, I mean."
This was ludicrous. She even had the audacity to agree to an insult hurled directly at a member of her family? Insanity. The girl was mad as the moon.
"We can't play this game all day, Malfoy," she reminded. "Make your move and let me go so that we may both go on living our lives."
She was not someone he could classify as 'pretty'. But after being with so many horrid-looking girls at his House, she was something to the effect of 'better'. But she could never 'better'. A Pureblood, yes, but lowest on the rung, with a father obsessed with Muggles and more siblings than their family could afford to have.
Still, she possessed a fiery quality to her, which was something particularly absent in her bumbling brothers. The way she could salvo every demeaning word he hurled at her was sheer genius. Not a lot of people could do that to Draco Malfoy. Especially not a Weasley FEMALE.
"What, Malfoy?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts. "Still nothing? After, what, ten minutes?" She smirked. "You're losing your touch."
He, for one, didn't quite remember what she had said to irk him. He remembered vaguely that it was something minor but he had somehow… reacted.
"Will you shut up, Weasley? I can't believe how you can be such a blabbermouth when you certainly look mute, especially around Potter—"
"Is that the best you can do?" she interrupted coolly. "You can't provoke me with Harry, Malfoy. It's been done too many times before that it's lost its edge."
It was his turn to smirk. "Oh. So widdle Ginny's finally grown a backbone. Took you long enough."
She smiled at him. "If that's all, Malfoy, would you mind letting me go now? I actually want to be early for Arithmancy."
Seeing as he could elicit no annoyance from her today, he loosened his grip on her shoulder. But then he thought of one more thing at the last minute.
"Before I let you go, Weasley," he said. "Ponder this."
And with those words he pressed his lips to hers. He felt her stiffen, heard her gasp, and knew that he had, somehow, won against her.
Then he pulled away and sauntered off, leaving her still leaning on the wall.
Ginny Weasley turned to stare after him, smirking. "Heh," she said. "Malfoy, you ARE losing your touch."
Rather a short fic, and not a lot happening. It's my first, so be kind. Anyway, inspired (and fueled) by Jae's "Of Inscrutable Conceit", which is why Ginny darling has a lot of backbone and even taunting Draco. Feh…
Anyway, thanks to Jae, Arabella, and Jedi Boadicea for writing the first Draco x Ginny fics I came across on. And lovely fics they are, too!~
With that, I resume my usual habit of…. Running away. ^-^