You don't own me. I'm not just one of your many toys.

"Ginny, come on - one more time before I go off to vacation..."

A tickle.

A laugh.

A kiss.

My dress is being unzipped.

You don't own me. Don't tell me I can't go with other boys.

"Gin, who's that?"

You know Neville, Draco. Don't be stupid. No, we aren't going out. You and I are. Stop being so possesive.

A look.

A plead.

A kiss.

We're leaving Neville alone on the Pitch.

And don't tell me what to do - don't tell me what to say...and please, when I go out with you, don't put me on display.

"Gin, you remember Blaise, don't you?" Don't lower you're voice, Draco. I can hear you. "She's something, isn't she?" You've just whispered with a wolfish grin. "Look at that ass..."

I glare at you.

You grin with a blush.

A sorry look.

A kiss.

Yes, well. I do have a nice ass.

You don't own me. I'm not just one of your many toys.

"Please, Ginny, one more time before Dad comes and we have to behave..."

A tickle.

A laugh.

A kiss.

My shirt is being pulled over my head.

You don't own me. Don't tell me I can't go with other boys.

"Harry. It's...nice...to see you again."

A glaring contest. How comical. Let him be, Draco. He beat you fair and square. Don't be a poor loser. No, Draco, we aren't going out. We're just friends. This is Harry, Draco. Harry. What are you, sick or something?

A glare.

Balled fists.

I plead.

A kiss.

Ignore Harry's look of disgust, Ginny. Just ignore it. Come on, Draco.

You don't own me. Don't try to change me in any way.

"Oh, come on, Ginny, why all the tomboyishness? Wear something more...feminine."

I like my pants. I like my tomboyishness.

Puppy eyes.

You're arms around my middle.

A kiss.

Yes, that one is pretty. Do you really think it will look okay on me? Well, okay, let's buy one in every color...shoes, too...

You don't own me. Don't tie me down, 'cause I'd never stay.

"Let's go steady, Ginny."

Why? Where is the point?

You look hurt.

You're blushing.

A kiss.

Steady, it is.

I don't tell you what to say, I don't tell you what to do. Just let me be myself - that's all I ask of you.

Draco, please, keep the comments about Mudbloods to yourself for ten minutes, okay? Let's just do this thing...

"Filthy little Mudblood."

Okay, fine, fine, I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry.

"Ginny, keep the Quidditch comments to a minimum, won't you?"

But...you...

A grin.

A pointed look.

A kiss.

What's Quidditch?

I'm young, and I love to be young! I'm free, and I love to be free! Free to do whatever I want, say and live however I please!

"Gin, shhh! Don't do that! Wait - no - don't mention Harry here - oh, come here, will you? Good, now stand here and don't move. Got it?"

I'll do whatever I damn well please, thanks-very-much.

A desperate glance.

My hand is in yours.

A kiss.

I'm frozen next to you, a wordless smile on my lips.

Don't tell me what to do. Don't tell me what to say. And, please, when I go out with you, don't put me on display.

"Dad! Dad, this is Ginny Weasley, you know her..." Merlin, Draco, you're Dad is creepy. "She's a tomcat in bed, I had scratches the first time..."

I glare and with a huff, stomp out.

We're in the rain. You're under the umbrella so that you don't get wet.

You're sorry.

You plead.

You beg.

A kiss.

Fine. Don't let it happen again.

I don't tell you what to say, don't tell you what to do...so just let me be myself, that's all I ask of you.

"Ginny. Why the hell do you hang out with those losers?"

They're my friends.

An exasperated sigh.

A raised eyebrow.

A kiss.

Gryffindor freaks.

I'm young, and I love to be young - I'm free, and I love to be free...