By Ekai Ungson
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter the series and all related concepts copyright J.K. Rowling. Characters used without permission.
For Alli, because she gets me the way most people don't.
Official Summary-Like thing: In an episode of crazed boredom, Draco Malfoy takes his Firebolt and rides to the Burrow for some entertainment. Ginny Weasley is the only one home. Malfoy takes her away to a summerhouse in Scotland. Well, rather forcefully. Not that it's a problem… Hang on. But it is.
"Let me go, I mean it! Let me go or I'll—I'll blow your ears straight off your head! Let me go, you incredibly pompous rat faced lowlife creep!"
"Very good imagery, that last line. You don't suppose it'd really help you, though?"
"Let me go, you—"
"I already know, I already know. You've been screaming madly about me for the past hour—not entirely new to me of course—I know quite a few women who can go longer than you do. You do realize, however, that if I let you go now, you'd drop and die a very disgusting, rather untimely death in the English Channel?"
"I—what? Oh. Oh dear. Don't let me go. Don't let me go!"
"I rather thought you'd say that sooner or later."
Chapter One: Some Kind Of Wonderful
Draco Malfoy hated summers.
Sure, no school, no homework, no boring professors, no useless lessons, and he had all the freedom he wanted. So much freedom, in fact, that he was getting bored. Very bored.
There was nobody to torment as he had tired of teasing the house-elves and there were no other human beings in the house except for himself, his mother, and his father. The house was cavernous, and it was empty. Draco positively missed Creevey, and Finnigan, and Longbottom, and that prat, Weasley. Well, they were all prats, really, the whole lot of them, following Potter around and practically hero-worshiping him. Pitiful lot, really, but much fun, especially when Draco needed a good laugh. Especially that one always behind or beside Potter, Ron. The pillock was a very easy target, having a short-temperedness he rather found entertaining.
And that little sister of theirs, too. She was interesting. She wasn't as easy to bait as her brothers as she did almost nothing worthy of noticing, but she had an impulsive streak particularly evident when she was not in the shadow of Potter. A pity, really.
"Draco, darling. Lunch," called his mother from behind the door.
"Be right there, Mum," he replied. He was really bored now. There was nothing in the manor to do except eat, sleep, or fly around in his broom and bait the giant Flytraps by the gates. There was no one to verbally assault. He was feeling rusty and inadequate.
He moved off the bed and went to lunch.
Molly Weasley vanished with a lot of smoke. The soot from the fireplace blew up and enveloped the house.
"But I hate Floo powder," said Ron Weasley, looking at the mess created.
Ginny Weasley rolled her eyes. "Ron, it's not like you're going to be the one left to clean the place. Go on now, get out of here, honestly."
"Are you absolutely sure you'll be all right, Gin?" asked her father, Arthur Weasley.
"Dad, I'm not twelve," she replied. In Ginny-speak that translated to 'I'm old enough to take care of myself and this old house so get out already so I can go clean and read my book'.
"Right, of course you're not, dear," Arthur replied. He went into the fireplace, sprinkled the powder, and yelled "Diagon Alley!" before disappearing.
"Gin, take care," Ron said.
"Ron, I keep telling you; what can happen to me in this house? It's not like it's a medical hazard or anything."
"Still, Gin. Don't—"
"—Talk to strangers. Don't let anybody you don't know inside. Yell 'Expelliarmus' first and ask questions later. Jeez. I'm not Snow White."
"Who's Snow White?"
"Muggle princess. Shoo, Ron, Mom and Dad are probably waiting on the other side now. Don't forget Pig's owl feed."
"The way you go on it's like Pig's YOUR owl."
"Right, right," Ron said. He repeated the process his parents had done and disappeared.
The house became strangely quiet after that.
Ginny looked up at the rafters and yelled. "There's absolutely nothing in this house!"
Then, as if on cue, the poltergeist in Ron's room clattered a few things.
"Brilliant," Ginny said.
-a few hours later-
Ginny sat back in her favorite chair and then declared himself utterly, immensely bored. To death. She had tried amusing herself with books, but—she was no Hermione. Books didn't hold that sort of fascination for her. She could go fly outside, but she didn't want to risk it, she wanted to play something—anything—but there was no one to play with. Except if you counted the poltergeist, and that was useless in itself.
She stared around the room; once, twice. She considered cleaning up, but the she suddenly remembered she had already cleaned the whole living room, her own room, and the kitchen—at least two or three times over.
There had to be more to life than this.
Then she heard a very faint sound from outside—like wind whipping. Like someone landing off a broom. Broom. Harry?
She stood up and peered outside the window. A figure clad in dark traveling robes—too dark, certainly, for summer, was dismounting from a Firebolt. Ginny pushed some of the hair from out of her eyes and stared, but the windows were too grimy. And the figure was hooded.
Harry owned a Firebolt, and he used it every year to get to the Burrow, but only at night time when the Muggles were asleep. It was broad daylight, and it wasn't like Harry to do such careless things. Well, Harry did a lot of careless things, but for extremely good reason—
And she was going on a very unproductive line of thinking. She picked up her wand and ventured outside.
The figure was unhooding. Sunlight glinted off his bright head.
"My God," Ginny whispered. "You?"
He looked as surprised to see her as she did. But not because it was her, this was after all, her house. Basically, he was just surprised that she—
Looked so pretty.
Flushed cheeks and all that scandalous red hair, and the fact that it wasn't in braids, and the fact that she wasn't in school robes but in a plain white dress. When did Weasley fill out that well, and why didn't he notice? She was waving something in the air—her wand, apparently, and shouting, very loudly.
"--- and WHAT are you doing here, Draco Malfoy?" she was saying.
"Paying a visit to the less fortunate," he quipped automatically.
"Incendius!" she yelled, but he dodged her. Something to be said about Quidditch training, and a whole lot of luck, because the bush behind him caught fire in brilliant shades of red and orange.
"What'd you do that for?" he asked. "I haven't done anything—"
"Your very presence abhors me, Malfoy," she said in cutting tones. "Leave, before I commit very Unforgivable Crimes. Before my mum and dad and brothers come home and THEY commit Unforgivable Crimes. Honestly, what made you come here?"
"Did you just say, 'before your mum and dad and brothers came back', or was that just me?" he asked.
She stopped short, but never lowered her wand. "Well.. yes."
"They left you alone?" he asked. "You, poor defenseless girl?"
"Impedimenta!" she yelled again. A flash of light from her wand that he dodged as well. He then pulled out his wand and yelled, "Accio wand!"
The wand slipped from her fingers, so stunned she was. She watched in utter horror as he deftly caught it in midair. She took a step back, lowering her arm. "What do you want from me?"