The Day That Ginny Weasley Got Her Wish

Life as a Gryffindor had become rather awkward for Ginny over the past few days. Doris and her other friends were no longer talking to her. Apparently they felt neglected and accused her of not caring about them anymore. Ginny couldn't deny this accusation. Her life seemed to consist of Draco Malfoy and only Draco Malfoy, but that didn't mean the girls had to ignore her when she actually wanted to spend time with them. It was all rather unfair, she thought.

And then there was her brother and his friends. She had tried to skirt around the subject of why she had almost drowned in the lake, but it was obvious that her explanations had holes. Ron had pounced on these holes with vigour, throwing accusation after accusation at her face. Her favourite was that she had been 'fraternising with the enemy', a phrase he seemed to have taken a liking to. Of course, Ron would hardly appreciate the sentiment behind that favouritism, and even Ginny got depressed at the thought that this accusation was just as empty and untrue as her fantasies involving the blond.

It wasn't fair that even after everything she had done, Draco still refused to play by the rules and notice her for the beautiful, brilliant witch that she was…

Fine, so maybe she was laying it on a bit thick there, but still, this was getting ridiculous.

After the 'lake incident' (sometimes referred to as the 'knickers-of-doom incident'), she had pondered over his parting words, trying to ascertain what exactly he had been implying. It almost seemed as if he knew that she had been trying to get his attention, and yet at other times it appeared that he had simply been teasing her for nearly being drowned by a Grindylow. What she could say for certain was that he had made no move to talk to her again. He seemed quite content to ignore her, which made 'Operation Ignore Draco Malfoy And Therefore Win His Attention Out Of Pique' fail instantaneously. After all, she couldn't very well ignore someone who was already ignoring her.

Ginny had also come to the conclusion that all of those romance novels lied. The makeover hadn't worked, making him nice things hadn't worked, getting him to save her life hadn't worked, and ignoring him for the sake of getting his attention at being ignored hadn't worked. Really, the whole system of fictional methods to get a boy to notice her was flawed when it came to Draco Malfoy.

"Miss Weasley," said a smooth voice, effectively interrupting her brooding thoughts. "Do you plan on starting your potion today?"

She raised her eyes and found herself meeting tunnels of black. The face that housed these dark eyes was just as equally black, at least in expression. Daydreaming in Professor Snape's class had certainly not been the smartest thing for her to do.

"Sorry, Sir," mumbled Ginny. "I'll get started now."

Snape's lip curled contemptuously. "There's no need. You do not have enough time to make the potion adequately, though whether you could have done that in the first place remains to be seen."

Ginny bristled with indignation at this insult, but bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. There was nothing to be gained in back-chatting to Snape.

"You may leave, Miss Weasley. I do not tolerate time wasters in my class."

Cheeks flushed, Ginny stood up from her chair and gathered up her belongings. She turned to exit the room, when Snape said softly:

"Oh, and that will be twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention for your laziness. Anymore behaviour like this from you, and I will be speaking with your Head of House."

"Yes, Sir."

The words were like metal in her mouth.

Effectively dismissed, and not wanting to linger in her shame, Ginny quickly left the room and made her way up out of the dungeons. She wasn't sure what to do now. There were still fifteen minutes to go before her classmates would join her, but Ginny didn't really want to face them right now. They would just laugh at her.

She ended up deciding to go to the Quidditch Pitch. No one would bother her there, and it would certainly help to get her mind off things. Flying always did. Of course, she didn't actually have a broom of her own, but students were allowed to borrow the school brooms, and Ginny made full use of this happy fact.

The redhead had only taken a few steps onto the grass when she realised that there was someone already flying around the pitch. That was odd. Most people avoided the pitch of late, as Quidditch had been cancelled due to the Tri-Wizard tournament being held instead. One boy had obviously clung to his stubborn desire to fly.

Ginny felt her heart give a warm flutter when she recognised the shade of blond adorning the boy's head. Perhaps being kicked out of Snape's class wasn't so bad, after all?

Not wanting to be caught watching him, and yet still not wanting to miss this rare opportunity to admire her favourite blond, she appeased the two conflicting wishes by hiding near the closest changing room. The stands were a bit too open for a suitable hiding place, but this spot would do nicely, not to mention it gave her a perfect view of the Slytherin.

For a few blissful minutes she was allowed to watch Draco without anyone or anything to disturb her. She was impressed by the discovery that he was as graceful in the air as he was on land, though it was true that Harry was the better flyer. Still, there was no question that Draco presented the more striking image. One could not consider him perfectly handsome—even Ginny could admit that—but he was a good-looking boy, and he certainly knew how to use a broom to his advantage. At least, when it came to capturing a girl's heart.

Ginny was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice him start descending towards the ground. By the time she had finally realised that he was no longer in the air, it was only to discover with faint horror that he was heading straight towards her. It also meant that she had less than five minutes to find a better hiding spot.

She panicked and rushed into the changing room, hiding just behind the entrance to the showers. It was just her luck to have chosen the Slytherin changing room as her hiding place, just as it was equally her luck for Draco Malfoy to be the kind of boy who actually wore different clothes when he flew, and therefore had to get changed.

The sound of footsteps, firm and yet unhurried, drifted to her ears. Her heart began thumping in her chest. Moisture gathered on her palms. She swallowed and silently prayed that nothing would go wrong. The last thing she needed was another 'incident' to add to her list. That list was almost bigger than the one she had been compiling about the blond himself.

She could hear Draco shuffling around outside her hiding place, and then everything went quiet. Ginny began to wonder if he was even still in the changing rooms with her. She risked a peek through the crack in the door to satisfy her curiosity. Her mouth formed into a small 'o' at the sight that met her eyes.

He was indeed still in the changing rooms. He also happened to be wearing no shirt, and was just beginning to unbutton his pants.

Warmth rushed to her cheeks. It seemed wrong to watch him like this—perve might be the more accurate word—but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his bare chest. His body seemed so sharp and angled to her, so accustomed was she to the softness of her own body, and he certainly was more slender than muscular, but that didn't stop her from feeling the prickles of attraction shiver along her skin.

She allowed her eyes to drift lower. Her cheeks burned even more when he let his pants drop to the ground. She had never seen a boy so barely clothed before—apart from her brothers, of course, but they didn't count—and though she was indeed embarrassed at the amount of pale skin displayed before her eyes, she found herself more curious than anything else.

Would he remove the boxers too?

Draco's fingers slid under the elastic of the silky material. She sucked in a breath, watching in agonised curiosity as he began to drag down the last piece of clothing that covered his otherwise naked body. Then he paused.

Ginny let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. Why had he stopped?

She watched him glance around the changing room. There was a slight crease on his brow, as if he were confused by something. Ginny stepped back, not wanting him to see her in case he happened to glance her way. Unfortunately, she had not been counting on there being one of Filch's cleaning buckets directly behind her. Her foot hit the bucket—that alone creating more than enough noise—but the surprise of actually stumbling into something soon had her letting out a loud gasp, not to mention falling hard on her bottom from the sudden loss of balance.

Ginny groaned in pain, but that groan quickly turned into a small squeak of fright as the door was thrust open and a very irate—and boxer-clad—Draco Malfoy entered the room. His cold eyes swept around the showers and then lowered to focus on her, narrowing even more as recognition dawned in the grey.

"Weasley. I should have known."

A blush spread across her cheeks, burning the very tips of her ears. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh?" he queried, voice deceptively polite. "Then how do you explain the fact that a Gryffindor like yourself, who has no reason to be here, was hiding in the Slytherin changing rooms, watching me as I got undressed, and not even bothering to say a word the whole time to reveal your presence?"

Her blush deepened. She cast her mind for something to say, anything at all to get her out of this mess, but her mind had gone completely blank. The horrible truth was that she had been perving on him, and even now she was slightly disappointed that he had realised her presence just seconds before she could get a glimpse of that certain male appendage.

What could she say? What could she do?

In the end, Ginny did the only thing she could do. She bolted, or at least tried to, but Draco's fingers tightened around her wrist in a vice-like-grip, pulling her to an abrupt halt.

"Going somewhere, Weasley?" he asked, smirking at her in a way that made her feel like a bird trapped in the claws of a very hungry cat.


She swallowed and glanced around nervously, avoiding his piercing gaze. Her heart was thudding furiously in her chest, making it rather hard to breathe. For a moment she almost toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, maybe even just grabbing his face and kissing him, but then the thought of what he might do if she did that made her nerves flare up again.

Ginny panicked, again, but this time her gut reaction was to hit and run. So she did just that, giving him a hard boot to the shin and then fled from the changing room as soon as his fingers released her. It was a cowardly thing to go, but Ginny would rather be known as the cowardly lion than explain to Draco Malfoy why she had been perving on him in the changing rooms. That would just be too humiliating.

"I can't believe he caught me watching him get undressed," muttered Ginny fretfully to herself as she paused to catch her breath once she was a safe distance from the Quidditch Pitch.

She knew she would never be able to face him again. This was possibly the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her in her life, and no matter how much she wished she could go back in time to reverse what had happened, nothing could change the fact that she had willingly perved on him and had been caught doing so.

"He probably thinks I'm some creepy stalker."

That her behaviour as of late could be considered stalkerish did not occur to Ginny. She was too consumed with shame to think rationally, and too nervous of what his reaction would be when he next saw her to really care about her previous plans to get his attention.

One thing was for sure: she had well and truly got his attention this time.


It was funny how the tables had turned so drastically. For weeks she had been tailing him, trying to figure out the best way to get him to notice her, but now that she finally had his attention, it was she was who was skirting his advances and fleeing from his presence; she who directed suspicious glances his way during meal-times, trying to figure out what his game was.

For Draco had indeed taken an interest in her, and Ginny was not so stupid that she couldn't see that his main goal was to get her alone. What he planned to do with her once he had her alone had her shivering in both trepidation and exhilaration. The situation went either way in her mind, depending on her mood. She preferred the one where he pushed her up against the wall and snogged her until she saw stars, but somehow Ginny thought that scenario was unlikely to happen. He was more likely to go with option two: kidnap her and make her suffer a painful torture for even daring to perve on him.

Why did her 'moment' have to be with Draco Malfoy? Why couldn't it have been with Colin, or that Hufflepuff boy whose voice still hadn't dropped and so talked like a squeaky mouse? They would never have given her this much trouble. She could have wrapped them right around her little finger, but she could not wrap Draco Malfoy around her finger. He was a Slytherin, a master at manipulation, and somehow he had manoeuvred her into a very tight corner without her even realising it.

Ginny chanced a glance at the Slytherin table. Grey collided with brown. She gasped and quickly lowered her eyes to her plate, pink blossoming on her cheeks. He had been staring at her again—was even now staring at her. She shifted edgily and tried to ignore the penetrating gaze touching her skin, for to her it seemed as if his eyes really could touch her.

She had might as well have tried to fly without a broom.

"Draco Malfoy is staring at you," whispered Doris, her eyes wide with curiosity and surprise.

Apparently her friend had decided the 'ignoring phase' was over.

"Does he look angry?" asked Ginny, not daring to look again herself.

"No," said Doris slowly. "He looks…amused. I think—I think he's smiling."

Ginny shuddered. It was probably that awful smirk, the one that made her feel like he was going to eat her. She suddenly felt sick.

"Ginny, why is Draco Malfoy smiling at you?"

"He's probably just smiling because he's having fun plotting my untimely demise."

"Why? What did you do?"

"It's a long story," sighed the redhead. Not to mention she had no desire to let other people know of her changing room escapade. The memory still brought a blush to her cheeks.

"He's still looking at you."

"Stop looking at him," hissed Ginny. "You'll just encourage him."

Doris laughed. "Wow. He really does have you on edge."

"You would be too if he caught you per—"

Ginny clamped her mouth shut, realising what she had almost said.

"Caught you, what?" asked Doris.

"Nothing," said Ginny. She stood up from the table. "I might go work on that essay for Binns."

"But your dinner—"

"I'm not hungry," lied the redhead. "I'll see you around."

"All right…"

Doris watched her friend leave the Great Hall rather in the manner of one fleeing a pack of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Honestly," muttered that bewildered damsel. "What is wrong with her?"


Ginny could no longer deny it. She was officially paranoid. Two days ago Draco Malfoy had seemed to be constantly watching her wherever she went. Now he was suddenly nowhere to be seen. She didn't dare hope that he had finally grown bored of pursuing her and was now content to let her go unpunished. She knew him better than that. More than likely he had changed his tactics. If this was true, it was definitely working.

She had grown so accustomed to his ominous presence that having him absent now made her even more nervous. Every shadowy alcove was an opportunity for him to pounce on her. She had not forgotten her fears of kidnap and torture, and was very ready to believe that he was just waiting for the perfect moment to catch her unawares.

Ginny made a point of never being alone—she wasn't going to make it that easy for him—but there were times where one couldn't help but be alone. Like when she was going to the toilet, or having a shower, or waking up late and finding herself alone in the Common Room because everyone else had already agglomerated to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It was this that had Ginny sweating in paranoia. She now had to walk down seven flights of stairs to get to the Great Hall. Alone.

She was going to die.

Contrary to this gloomy premonition, Ginny made it down the seven flights of stairs unmolested and decidedly alive, though Peeves did deign to blow a raspberry at her along the way. She leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips. Maybe she really was just being paranoid? Maybe Draco wasn't going to hurt her?

"Well, well," drawled an all too familiar voice. "It seems I've finally got you alone."

Or not.

Ginny reluctantly opened her eyes and faced the blond, her nerves tingling under her skin at the faintly amused expression on his face. It was that smirk again.

He closed his hand around her arm. "I think it's time we drew this game of cat and mouse to a close, don't you think?"

She didn't even get a chance to reply; he was already dragging her down the hallway and into one of the unused classrooms. The door shut with a snap behind them, the distinct sound of a magical lock being placed making her heart quicken in fear. He turned to face her and slipped his hand in her robe pockets, feeling around until she felt his fingers close around her wand.

"You won't be needing this," he murmured, withdrawing his hand, along with her wand, and placed the commandeered item in his own pocket.

Thoughts of the most terrifying flittered through her brain. He was no longer the boy who had stolen her heart, but had now become the Grim Reaper of her life and happiness. She didn't even pause to wonder if he was actually capable of the hideous deeds that her over-imaginative brain depicted him doing, but she did come to the decision that she would fight back with every tooth and nail if she had to.

Draco, completely oblivious to her raving thoughts, released her arm and leaned back against the door. "All right, Weasley," he said calmly. "Here's what we're going to do."

But Ginny wasn't listening. A mad gleam had come into her eyes, her breath coming short and fast. Suddenly, she launched herself at him, fingers scrabbling at his pocket in her desperate attempt to get her wand back. A few expletives escaped the blond's lips, more out of surprise than anything else. They struggled together for a moment, and then Draco managed to get both her arms trapped in an iron grip, effectively holding her away from him.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded, grey eyes glittering with frustration.

"I won't let you kidnap me!" screamed Ginny, still twisting in his hold.

"Kidnap you? I'm just trying to talk to you."

Ginny gave a derisive snort. "Right. That's why you dragged me into an unused classroom, locked the door, and then stole my wand."

"One: I dragged you down here because you kept running away from me whenever I tried to confront you; two: I locked the door and took your wand because you have a habit of attacking me and then fleeing, which, I may remind you, you just tried to do; and three: let's not forget that you were the one perving on me in the changing rooms the other day, not to mention all the other things that you have been doing. I'm not stupid, Weasley. I do know what you have been trying to do."

Pink flooded her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, I—"

He smirked. "Go on, Weasley. Just say it."

She shook her head.

"Then I'll just have to say it for you."

Ginny wasn't sure what he meant by that, but then he was leaning forward, his face swimming before her eyes in a blur of blond and grey. Her breath hitched in anticipation of what was to come, and then she felt their lips touch.

It was not at all like anything she had imagined. There was no desperate longing for him to deepen the kiss, no heady passion to cloud her senses. She simply felt an indescribable warmth surround her heart and a faint tingling in her lips. For all its simplicity, however, there was no denying that it was the most beautiful feeling she had ever felt in her whole thirteen years of existence.

Draco pulled away from the kiss, the smallest of smirks curling his mouth. "Is that what you wanted, Weasley?"

Ginny gave a shy smile that was oddly impish at the same time. "Actually, my version was very different, but this one will do."

He laughed at that. "You really are the strangest girl I have ever met."

"And you, Draco Malfoy, are the most irritating boy I have ever met."

The smirk resurfaced. "You didn't really think I was going to pick up the handkerchief just because you tossed it at my feet, did you? I don't like to have my hand forced, not even by such an innovative and yet hapless schemer as yourself."

"Oh?" said Ginny, more curious than upset that her efforts had meant nothing to him. "Then what did change your mind?"

"You," he murmured, lightly brushing his thumb against her warm, freckled cheek. "Just you."

They shared a small smile, and then he leaned down and kissed her again, one arm encircling her waist as he pulled her closer. It didn't matter in that moment that all her schemes had failed miserably, for this was exactly where she had wanted to be ever since she'd seen him smile all those weeks ago. He was hers and she was his, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could get in the way of them now.

She would make sure of that.




Author Note: I actually am thinking of writing a companion fic to this in Draco's point of view, but for the mean time, here is the amazing, five-lined sequel:

"Ginny?" said Draco pensively.


"There is something I have been wanting to know."


"Why cauldrons?"

The End (again)