Disclaimer for the entire story, Uncomplicated: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from the Harry Potter verse. I am making no money or claims in writing this story.

Setting: Book Seven, in Hogwarts, altered only slightly. Begins near the start of the school year. Draco and Ginny are both in attendance.

Rating: Mature. There will be graphic material. The whole story won't be sexual, but it's a big part of the development. And there will also be language. Violence will be on the same level as the books.

A/N: This story will be written in a series of short snapshots, moments over the course of the school year.


Cold and blue. Those were her eyes. Draco had never noticed them before, and a bead of sweat rolled over his temple when he realized that she had stopped speaking with her mouth and had left the job to those frightening irises. What had been the last word from her pink lips? Distraction. Yes, he remembered that word leaving her mouth. She said it would be a good distraction.

"You can't be serious," he breathed.

A very small part of him was sporting a dazed grin. Obviously this was a dream, because this wasn't happening. It absolutely couldn't be happening. Not in this stuffy dungeon. Not anywhere in this damn castle. Not anywhere on this planet.

And why the hell couldn't he come up with a retort? How hard was it to put 'weasel in heat' into his reply? Only in a dream would he be so lost.

"Listen, Malfoy," she said with that hard stare, "I'm completely serious. And I know that your life is screwed up right now. Harry told me about you. He told me that you were questioning your loyalties these days."

Draco smirked. "Ah, so the truth comes out. This is some ploy to pull me over. I don't think so, red."

Red. His inner-demon was poking fun at his choice. He hadn't called her that before, had he? Was it even offensive? No. And it wasn't very truthful either. Sure, her hair was orange enough, but all he could see when he looked at her was blue. Uncaring blue.

"Is that what you think?"

Icy cold.

She made him feel sick. And she made his trousers tighten. Ginny stepped forward, grimacing, as if the movement pained her pride. Her eyes moved away only once, checking the door to the empty potions' room. Then they came back to him.

Draco maneuvered himself behind a stool. But, instead of stopping, she put her hands on it and hopped up, finding her seat in front him, her face now level with his.

"If you're so desperate," Draco began, "perhaps you should look up scar-head and join him on his little adventure. I'm sure he won't mind a good distraction, that is, if the mudblood isn't doing it for him." He tried to make his gray eyes stay with hers but he looked away. That part of him, the one who wanted her to trip before he kicked, had once been sharp, alert, and it had been broken over the past year. Chiseled away by circumstance. "After all, next time you see him, he might be dead. He'd be a better choice than me."

"I'd actually thought you'd jump on this opportunity. That, if you had one moment of hindrance, it would be your disgust." There was a smile on her face, but it didn't even lift her cheeks. "But that's not disgust I see on your face. Are you afraid of this, Malfoy? Are you more afraid of keeping another secret or of liking it?"

Draco scowled. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "But how else are you going to get your kicks this year?"

"Please," he snorted, "I could have any girl in this school."

"Not anymore—don't argue. I know about your reputation. Your family's lost their good name amongst the Slytherins. And the girl who still wants you . . .Well, your expression is explanation enough."

Draco tried to hide his annoyed frown but didn't succeed. The Gryffindor had hit the nail on the head. He hadn't slept with Pansy in over a year. He knew what Parkinson wanted, and he wasn't willing to put a ring on her finger, even if his family did manage to make it out of their current situation.

"Parkinson's out of the picture. That doesn't mean I'll fuck anything in a skirt," he answered.

"Quit pretending like you don't need this, Malfoy. I'm sick of this game." Ginny sighed, as if exhausted by the exchange. "Face it. Your life is screwed up. If it's anything like mine, then you need something to take your mind off of the day-to-day, off of the coming battle. You need a stress reliever."

She leaned forward, glaring at him.

"You need something to help you sleep at night," she whispered.

"Why me?" He swallowed hard, looking down, unable to stop himself from seeing her bare thighs, the bunched skirt caught on the wooden stool. "Other than my busy routine. I hate you. You hate me. And you're one of Potter's, everyone knows. As much as I'd love to rub your little offer in his righteous face, I can't help but think you have a wand up your sleeve."

Her face was tight. "You won't be rubbing it in his face. This has nothing to do with him."

"Sex has nothing to do with your boyfriend? Won't he be surprised."

"I'm taking what he won't give me." Her gaze narrowed, angry. "He's saving me. He doesn't want that between us, in case he doesn't make it back. So I'm stuck with your sorry ass, Malfoy. Why you? As I said. Your life is one big screw hole. And you've got as big a reason to hide your relations as I do. As much fun as pointing out the horny Gryffindor to all of your friends would be—oh wait, you don't have any friends anymore, do you?"

Her teeth were whiter than he'd expected. And he stepped back, away from her.

"You have nothing to lose, Malfoy, but every reason to hide your time with me from your master." She cocked her head. "I want something uncomplicated. A distraction from the waiting and the death and the tension. Meet me tonight in the room of requirements if you want the same."

She slid back, off of the stool, her shoes tapping against the floor. With one quick gesture, she threw her satchel over her shoulder.

"That's all you want?" he said. He scratched his ear, confused. "Nothing's that simple."

"I'm not a Slytherin, Malfoy," she said, walking towards the front door without a glance back, "not everything I do leads to a higher step."

Draco took a shallow breath, realizing why he'd noticed her icy eyes. Usually when a girl looked at him, wanted him, her eyes were dark. With desire or pleasure or fantasy. But not the Weasley girl. She didn't seem to want him at all. Didn't seem to need him.

Chill bumps ran along his arms beneath the sleeves, but he didn't move from the center of the room, staring at the stool Ginny had vacated instead.

He shook his head; she didn't need him, of course. She needed a distraction. How had she known that he needed the same? Something to take him away for a moment, something uncomplicated.

"That's right," he said, grinning faintly, "ice knows ice."

Edit End Note: So sorry, I completely forgot to tack this end note on originally. Yes, I know what color Ginny's eyes are in the books. Draco doesn't--he doesn't pay enough attention to other people to get that far. I'll explain why he's seeing blue in a further chapter :)