A/N: In the mood to write a D/G. You are the ones who have the fortune (misfortune?) of having to read it. XD Be a peach and review.

kesh kesh!


Ginny slammed her foot into Draco Malfoy's.

"You insufferable prat!" she shrieked, grinding her heel into the black leather of his boot. "You dirty, worthless--"

Draco's lip pulled back in anger. Not bothering to ebb his strength, he planted his hands on her shoulders and gave her a hard shove. She fell back, still glaring at him. "You obiously don't realize that these are top- notch shoes, Wealsey! Do you know how much they cost? I don't need your filthy hooves on them!"

"You ass! I don't care!" Her entire face was flushed with anger, her eyes scorching with hatred. "That was my History of Magic Essay! Do you have any idea about how long I worked on that?!"

"Let me see if I care." He paused, cocking his head at Ginny before replying, "No, it doesn't seem that I can."

She clenched her jaw, staring at him through angry brown eyes. "You'd better explain to Professor Binns about how you, being the completely evil spawn you are, disintegrated my homework, or I'll--"

"You'll what, Weasel? Tell on me to your brother and St. Potter?" This was becoming entertaining. He smirked and casually leaned against the wall, watching her with narrowed eyes. How wonderfully amusing. Ginny Weasley was threatening him. Or, at least, trying to threaten him. Her orange, fiery hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders and her bookbag lay forgotten on the floor. Scattered on the floor between them was a pile of ashes. Looking at it, his smirk grew wider. Or should he say, her once-homework. His eyes travelled back to her, challenging her to try again.

She did, of course. She was a Weasley, after all. "No, Malfoy. Though I do want to get back at you, we don't need another disturbing- though all the same funny- dancing rodent show."

"Oh, very witty." He paused, pulling out a pocket watch. The golden device gleamed in the torchlight, the Malfoy crest regally displayed on the shell. She had worn up her time. The funniness was wearing off. "I'm afraid I must be going, lavahead. Classes to go to," he drawled, and added for good measure, "And, to think, I actually did my homework."

He turned and strode away as Ginny shouted a string of cusses at his retreating back.


Ginny hated him. She really did. Her fist curled around a piece of parchment, scrunching it into the form of a little ball before chucking it into the fire of the Gryffindor common room. The paper went up in flames, the fire cradling around it before it turned in on itself and blackened.

She could have hexed him. Really. Unfortunately, though, she had left her wand inside the left pocket of her book bag and didn't even think about using it until it was too late. Now she regretted it passionately. She would have loved to use the new bruise charm she had learned a few nights prior. His excuse for dusting her homework had been lame enough- he most certainly did need to practice there- and hers could have equalled.

The sixth year stretched out on the couch, letting her eyes closed. The room was empty, homework set about with quills still waiting to be used, chess boards taking an intermission- with many violent gestures from one side to the other-, and a small black cat owned by a third year was taking a nap on top of an armchair, turning on its side from time to time.

Ginny sighed. Dinner was happening right at this very moment down in the Great Hall, and here she was. Sitting alone. Fretting about the day. Of course Binns had chewed her out when she admitted that her homework wasn't there. Or in existence period. Detention for her. It wasn't so bad, though. Just a night or so of sorting books in the HoM room and she'd be out. The girl closed her eyes, thinking. She would get back at Malfoy, just wait. As to how she would do this, she had no idea whatsoever, but it was still worth a try.

Right now, though, she was too tired to try and plot something against the rat. Ginny curled up, shifting to her side. For several minutes she just studied the crimson velvet of the couch's back, but soon her eyelids grew heavy and her breathing slowed. The world sifted into that of a dream.


Pansy finally left, gathering her clothes as she went. Her blonde locks were disarranged, sloppily pulled into a bun after their visit. Study dates were always mildly entertaining with this method of studying.

Draco sat back in his chair, letting his legs splay out in front of him and onto his desk. His room was decent enough, but seeing as how most of the prefects had one similar, it wasn't anything jaw-dropping. He smirked as he began to shift through the pages in his book, noting that he had gathered that no other House in Hogwarts offered exclusive prefect rooms. Apparently it was one of the best kept secrets by the Slytherin House, and very rarely did it get out.

The day had been practically useless. He'd gotten a rather poor grade on a recent assignment, and hadn't been able to humiliate Potter as he had wished. The git was off doing God-knows what all day, and he had only spotted him after Quidditch practice when the Slytherins were just leaving. And after such an annoying practice, he hadn't been in much of a mood. Good points were in the day too though. He had caught several little second years cutting class and had some great fun in reporting them to their professors. Oh joy. Probably the best part of the day was getting the littlest Weasley so annoyed. She was seething. Another highlight was finding Big Weasel in the broom closet on the fifth floor, practically devouring Granger. It was distubring at the time, but to see Weasley's ears go that red was worth it.

Something began pounding on his door, causing him to jump slightly out of his thoughts. "Draco!" The pounding grew louder and much more forceful. "Draco Black Malfoy, open this door! Now!"

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored the voice. Absentmindedly, he began to fiddle with the quill on his desk, trying hard to block out the voice. God, was it Annoy-the-shit-out-of-Draco day or something? He had just gotten rid of Pansy Parkinson, and he didn't need any more disturbance today- not even from his best friend.

"You better open this door!" Came the angry threat. "You know I can take you without magic, so don't tempt me!"

"Go away," he yelled.

"Like hell!"

"I'm tired," he began to whine. "It's been a stressful day, and I want--"

The door suddenly shot open, banging against the wall. It began to swing back into place before a hand with white-painted fingernails thrust out and held it in place. Draco sighed tiredly and turned around in his chair. "What is it, Blaise?"

Blaise Zabini stood in the doorway, the white undershirt of her uniform unbuttoned for the first three button holes. Her grey vest was missing- probably tossed on the floor of her room. Her ashen, dirty blonde (almost brown) hair fell down just below her shoulders in straight tresses. Her violet-colored eyes stared coldly at him. "You obviously have no idea what it is like to share a dorm room with a slobbering, hormonal 17 year old girl who happens to be Pansy," snapped the girl. "The bloody moron has no sense of others' feelings. If she'd take a look at our faces, I think she could tell that we're all ready to poke our wands into her ear. She won't listen, though. Which isn't surprising, seeing as how I can talk to a comb and feel like it has more intelligent thoughts than when I am talking to Pansy." Blaise was the closest thing he had to a best friend, even though he hung around with Goyle and Crabbe more often. In fact, Blaise rarely talked to him during the day. Only about twice a week would they really actually have a conversation. And it was usually full of snapping at each other and insulting.

"Come on," Draco interrupted silkily. "It can't be that bad."

"I'm not surprised you said that. You're the one shagging her and all. Which is a point she makes quite clear. As much as I love to hear the..." Blaise's nose crinkled in disgust, "details, I- and probably the majority of the girls in the 7th year dorm- would rather be spared."

Draco sat back in his chair, a sneer-like expression pulling up his lip. "I'm sure," he said sarcastically. "I'm sure half of you just sit in there with popcorn in your laps, waiting for those lovely details."

Blaise rolled her eyes. "We're not-" she paused. "Well, alright, so some do, but that's not the point." She poked him in the chest. "It's really annoying. Get her to shut up."

"You." His tone was laced with annoyance, and he began to twirl the quill between his fingers. Blaise thought she could tell him what to do...yeah. Like that would ever happen. He stopped that phase of his life at age 9. Blaise didn't seem to quite understand that, though.

"We've been through this, genius," she spat back out. "She doesn't listen to us."

Draco only smirked maliciously.

Blaise just rolled her eyes and flopped onto the bed. She began tossing around the golden snitch that Draco kept in his nigthstand drawer. A 'D' was etched into the metal. Draco's lip pulled back in disgust. It seemed that no matter how many times he tossed it around before a Quidditch game or before falling asleep, the blasted thing wasn't helping his game. Blaise just kept idling gripping it, releasing, gripping, releasing.

"Finish the Transfig homework?" she asked, her fingers closing around the snitch.

"No." He once more sat down in the chair and propped his legs onto the desk. "Maybe I would have, though," he drawled- just to annoy her, "if you hadn't kicked down my door."

"Kicked down?" Blaise chuckled to herself. "Ever heard of magic, Draco?"

"Oh, forgive me," he replied. He was going to through in a smart-ass remark about being more pure than her, but Blaise Zabini didn't take kindly to that sort of statement. Last time he had- being a foolish second year, he had found himself getting pounded into the floor. Of course he ended up wrestling with her, too, and they ended up just bruising each others' faces until finally one of the older years dragged them off each other.

A chorus of squeals out in the common room made Blaise's obsession with the snitch end suddenly. Draco watched as she shoved the snitch back into the drawer, and as her eyebrows raised curiously. She began to slink over to the door, one eye sort of squinting. He didn't know why she did that, but she had been doing it for a very long time. He remembered play- dates when they were little, and Blaise had still been doing the one-eye- squint thing.

"Where are you going?" he asked, hardly interested. He had already opened up his Charms book and was reading the assigned sections.

"I want to see what's going on," she replied and continued on her way.

Draco's mind raced. Stay and do homework...or...go with Blaise and procrastinate. 10 pages of reading and a brief summary, or find out what some pathetic girls are gawking at. With a decisive glance at his book, he followed out the door.

A second year was sitting on the leather sofa of the common room, grinning madly at the group of girls that had gathered around her. And not just fellow seconds, no. There were fifth years, four thirds, two sixth, and a first. And of course, Zabini.

Draco rolled his eyes. This was what he was reduced to. When did procrastination start sucking so badly? He slid over, staying an appropriate distance away. Blaise could do the talking.

"So what is this?"

The girl who seemed to be at the center was holding something, and she looked up at Blaise. She had a pair of bronze glasses, and from behind them, watery blue eyes stared back fearlessly. "It's a Soul-Mate Seeker."

Draco felt disgust wriggling inside his gut. How pathetic. But even Blaise was interested. She extended her hands, and the girl dropped a foggy- glassed orb into Blaise's hands. It was about the size of a cantalope, and must have been decently heavy, but Blaise all the same held it close and looked at the younger girl for instruction.

"So far, we've all used it," the girl explained, "and it seems to work. The box and manufacturers guarantee it's authenticy."

"How do you know it works?" Blaise was studying the ball skeptically.

"Well, we just figure it has to," a fifth year took this question. "Soul mates are a difficult thing. You can fall in love with anyone, but there's just one soul mate out there. That's how we agreed on it, at least. It may not be what you want, but it's genuine."

"Mine is a guy who looks like he's about twenty," a blonde third year added. She winked. "Not too bad for me."

"Now the point is whether or not we can find the person or if it's meant to be." The fifth year shrugged. "Which, I guess, it is, but timing is another issue."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if you find your soul mate but he's married to another, well, I guess the timing was off." The fifth year shrugged. "But he's still your soul mate, you know? You can take it or leave it. The results won't change. We've tried."

Blaise was once more studying it. "How does it work?"

"Well, according to the box-" everything was going by the box, it seemed- "you hold it for a moment or so. Both hands, it's important. Say your name, and you're good to go."

"You might not want to know." The sixth year who had spoken had spiked black hair, with a pair of hot pink bangs hanging on the sides of her face. A silver hoop pierced her left eyebrow.

"You're no fun," chastised her friend. Her friend stared back at Blaise, her eyes coaxing. "Just try it."

"Only if you can accept what comes up inside. I don't want to know- I've got a boyfriend who I love, and I don't care about soul mates or whatever. I'm happy with who I have at the moment and don't want to ruin it on the chance that there's someone out there who is even more perfect for me. It's not worth it."

"Saed," the friend grumbled, "just be quiet and let us have some fun."

"I'm just saying." Upon closer look, Draco recognized her as Saede Wrone. She was a smart girl, if not a bit wild. She continued staring at Blaise through a pair of large, turquoise eyes. "If you want to know, then go ahead. But if you think you'd be better off in the unknown, then you shouldn't look. It's a gut decision."

Blaise looked back at Saede for a small prick of time before nodding, almost unprecievably. "Well, it's against my better judgement, but--" She held tight to the orb for several seconds before finally stating her name. "Blaise Zabini."

Draco shook his head. They may be Slytherins, but they were still females all the same. Though he couldn't even deny the piqued curiousity.

Draco couldn't see into the ball, but he saw the mists within stir, twisting around and around for a while. Several boys entered the common room, only to head right into their dormitory and ignore the girls in the room. Things had fallen quiet, and the boys closed the door without a second thought. Draco turned back just in time to see the smoke inside the ball stop churning, and to watch Blaise's faint smile that had formed on her face a few minutes before drop suddenly and her face to turn a sicking shade of green. Her hands began to tremble, and she gasped, dropping the orb.

"Hey!" The first year caught it.

Blaise looked accusingly at the owner of the ball. "It- it doesn't work. It's a dud. It's lying."

"No, it isn't!" the other girl glared indignantly. "It's right, and it has been thus far!"

"It can't be!" Blaise yelled angrily.

"I told you," Saede said in a sing-song voice, though the words themselves where serious. The way the words danced would usually annoy Blaise for their know-it-all nature, but Draco knew that Blaise was agreeing.

Blaise went on with her furious denial, and the young girl went on disagreeing. After what seemed like eternity, Blaise finally seemed to recollect herself. She looked at the girl warily, seemingly tired of fighting- one thing that Draco never would have thought possible. She looked sadly at the girl before quietly asking, "Are you sure it's true?"

"True as the sun," the girl replied. "Sorry if you didn't get who you wanted or something." She paused, her azure eyes considering. "But nothing has to happen, you know. You'll never have to even think about it again. Remember what we said."

Blaise was silent, and she could only stare. Finally, she nodded.

"Who did you get?" The first year asked.

Blaise turned a sharp purple eye on the little girl.

"Don't want to tell?" Asked the girl with a sassy tone.

"As a matter of fact," Blaise hissed, "no, I don't."

Draco finally came out from his shadowy corner when the group dispersed and everyone began to go about their evening activities. Blaise made her way back to the 7th year Girls' Room. He caught her before she slipped in.

"Who was it?" He wondered if it worked. Besides, from the completely nasueated expression she had been wearing, he had a feeling that it would be intensely funny, too.

"No one," she replied.

"Ooh, must've been really bad," Draco replied. "Do we know him?"

"None of your business," Blaise snapped again, right before slipping into the dorm room. The door slammed shut behind her.

The evening slipped away in a blur of events, mainly Draco studying and completing his homework. Dreadfully dull, that was for sure. He was drifting off to sleep right there on the couch, his parchment rolled open on his lap. However, he caught himself before faling into a deep sleep, and quickly got his things together. The clock on the mantel read quarter past midnight.

Stupid Housemates. They sure knew how to be helpful, didn't they? And where were Crabbe and Goyle, anyway? Why didn't they wake him up? He growled quietly as he rolled up his homework and crumpled up his rough drafts. His blonde hair was no longer slicked back, but slightly ruffled and was sticking up in several places.


Finally he got around to actually heading off to bed. But right as he was turning to leave, a glint in the corner of his eye made him turn.

Right. That stupid ball. The bloody rip-off that a niave little girl actually spent money on. How much was it, actually? 15...20 galleons? What a waste. Of course, for Malfoys, that was chump change, but he still had appreciation for money.

His lip turned up in a smirk as he made his way over to the orb. He grasped it between his hands, watching the hypnotic smoke as it twisted around within the ball. The crystal was cool against his hands, but it was the fog within that entranced him. Before he even realized what he was doing, he had firmly stated his name.

The ball's mists began to swirl suddenly, faster, as if now there were a purpose to the movements. The smoke spun within, glittering every so often as they wrapped in and out. The device was amazing, despite its silly purpose. It kept on with its strange, rolling fog, until finally, they began to slow. A figure formed, an image appearing. Much to his displeasure, his heart sped up. When was the last time it had done that? That simply didn't happen. Not at all.

Then, the image cleared. A girl came into view. The girl that this orb was obviously making out to be his soulmate This ought to be interesting.

He could see her sleeping form. Her face was turned away from him, but he could see the rest of her, splayed across her sheets. Her left arm was curled behind her head, her right lying on the mattress, fingers uncurled. Moderately long hair spread around her. Glorious hair. Red hair. A worn light yellow shirt had pulled up on her stomach slightly, revealing the pale, freckled flesh just above the waistband of her plaid pajama pants.

He sucked in a breath of air, his grey eyes glittering. Beautiful.

Just then, her face turned to him. An angelic face, though somehow familiar. She was perfect. And she was his. They were soul mates. They were chosen by destiny to be together. She was meant for him. She was-

Recognition hit him hard.

She was Ginny Weasley.


A/N: Dun dun dun. Yeah. Did you like it? I enjoy this sort of plot- for instance, mates for Veelas (read 'My Mate' by Pegasus7..it's wonderful) and all that arranged-by-fate stuff. Woo. I'll have the new chapter up soon...8th grade graduation is tomorrow night, and then a trip to Toronto for a week afterward. It will be up soon!! Review please!