The Fateful Valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

Setting:Draco's fifth year, Ginny's fourth year—(just to clarify)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Shocker. ;-)

You know that feeling? When you've finally gotten all comfy in your chair and your mom asks you to go do some frivolous thing like stop your brothers from causing mass destruction, per usual. And you keep willing your legs to move but they just won't budge?

Well this is exactly like that. Only there's no chair, and no mom, and definitely no comfy…there's just a brother. One large, angry, red, freight-train of a brother barreling your way and two very stubborn legs.

"Come on, come on," I urged my rebellious extremities, "We've got to get out of here and…"

"Oh, too late," I said, glaring angrily at my legs for the things they get me into, "Hello Ron."

"What the bloody hell was that about Ginny?" Ron bellowed obnoxiously.

"Well you see Ron, there's a very good explanation for everything…Oh my god!Is thatHermione doing a Bulgarian strip-tease!" I screamed, pointing.

Ron whirled around his mouth wide-open in shock allowing me to gracefully run like hell in the other direction. You'd think he would wise up but, no, it still works every time.

I finally make it to the stairs when, of course, the staircases start changing. These sorts of things always happen to me.

So, instead of hiding outside, I, of course, end up in the dungeons near Snape's classroom.

So here I am, minding my own business, just waiting for the staircases to change again when, of course, the Potions class lets out.

Now I'd love to tell you that it was the Hufflepuffs leaving Snape's classroom and I waved at Neville, or even that it was the Ravenclaws who were finding their way back and I got to say hello to Luna.

But no, of course not, of course it had to be the Slytherins exiting the Potions room.

Of bloody course… I have the worst luck.

So, I did what any normal person would do…I stared angrily at the staircases and hoped no-one would notice I existed.

But noooo…that would be too much to ask. Within seconds the world's-most-annoying drawl interrupted my thoughts and disrupted my glaring.

"What are you doing here Weasley?" Draco Malfoy sneered in my general direction.

"Knitting," I said, quite wittily if I do say so myself, and returned to my previous occupation of staring at the staircases.

"Please," Draco sneered must unbecomingly, "Can your family even afford knitting needles?"

"You know what your problem is Malfoy?" I asked, striding over to the greasy git.

I stopped within inches of his slimy blonde head, leaned up and whispered, "It's that all the money in the world still can't buy you brain cells."

I then flicked him with my charms notebook in the back of the head and made to run off when, of course, my darn legs again got tangled in my messenger bag and I tripped.

"Oh please, Weasley," Draco said condescendingly, as if my biting comments had made no impact what-so-ever, "Don't you have some poetry to be composing for Potter or something?"

Don't you have some poetry to be composing for Potter or something. He must say that orit's likenessat least five times a day. The boy is completely daft, his lack of intelligent insults making my life miserable daily.

I mean, he could harp on the hair, the second-hand robes, the freckles, the brothers, but if he mentions that stupid singing valentine one more time I swear I'll…

Malfoy was saved from me flying off the broomhandle on him with the arrival of his hideous girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson.

I had to cover my ears at the repulsive sound of her cooing, "Draco-darling!" over and over again.

"Not now, Pansy," Draco replied coldly, "Can't you see I'm busy taunting?"

"Come on Draco-dear, forget about her," Pansy said hanging on his arm revoltingly.

"Okay," Draco said, giving in, "I guess Potter's little girlfriend has got enough work to do anyways. Tell me Weasley can you think of anything that rhymes with pathetic excuse for a wizard? Because I'm simply at a loss."

That is it. I don't even flipping like Harry anymore. If that stupid git doesn't get off the subject of that freaking singing valentine which I didn't even send I swear I'm going to…

Kill him?

Castrate him?

Cover him and chocolate pudding and force him to bellydance on the Great-hall tables?

I never got a chance to decide which one exactly as a harmless piece of paper caught my eye as it drifted out of Pansy's purse and landed on the ground.

As soon as the sniggering Slytherins had left I quickly grabbed the paper and skimmed its contents.

I smirked evilly as I realized how big this simple note was.

As they say, revenge is truly, truly sweet.

And so began Project Retribution.

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