The Test

The first time he noticed her, she was standing in the hall, talking with her friends. She seemed so at ease, so comfortable and confidant. He wouldn't guess that she was the same girl who had opened the Chamber of Secrets the year before. Nor would he guess that she was Ron Weasley's little sister. It was surprising to him that the baby of the Weasley family was also the prettiest. But he shrugged it off, blaming his thought on hormones. Anything with long hair and a pulse would be found attractive by a thirteen year old boy. That thought caused Draco to think of Snape--who had both long hair and a pulse. He shivered, cursed the Weasley family, and went about his day as usual, making sure to throw a nasty insult at Potter just to damage the baby Weasley's feelings. It was the least he could do.

At dinner, Draco couldn't help but glance casually across the hall at the youngest Weasley. She was sitting by her brother, looking as if they were completely cutting her out of their conversation. She tried to say something numerous times, but her brother shushed her and continued chattering with Potter. Even her own brother ignored her. Draco smirked inwardly. He bet if she was offered a real friend, she would turn it down just to hang onto Potter like a mollusk clings to a rock. Yes, he had just compared the pretty Weasley to a slug-like creature. It was laughable.

Draco found that he couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned, but every time he was ready to fall asleep, a picture of her smiling flashed through his mind. That's it, he thought, I'm going mad. To ail himself of the dreaded Weasley-syndrome he seemed to have aquired, Draco got out of bed and went into the Slytherin common room. All was normal, and everyone had gone to bed already. He had classes tomorrow, but it didn't matter. If his mind was determined to pester him about the Weasley girl, Draco was willing to go outside and beat his head against a rock to stop it. He never ventured out of the common room at night, but it made little difference. He would cure himself of the Weasley plague.

Draco opened the common room door and went into the hall outside. The stone was cold on his feet, and he swore silently, wishing he had worn his fluffy pink bunny slippers Pansy had given him for Christmas. Then, he cursed the Weasleys for the second time that day, and started toward the entrance hall. All in all, Draco thought miserably, if the freezing cold of the night air didn't numb his brain, he could always run around the Quidditch Pitch in the buff. Or bang his head against a rock. Either way, the thoughts of Weasley would end eventually.

In the entrance hall, he bumped into a short and hairy creature. Stumbling backwards, Draco cursed. He caught himself on a statue of armour, and it was only luck that kept him from bringing that thing down as well. The hairy thing stepped out of the shadows. Good lord! Draco thought unhappily. It figures that girl would show up again! Doesn't she know that I'm trying to get RID of her?

"Malfoy," she hissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing wandering about the corridors at night? Are you mad?"

I'm starting to think I may be, he groaned inwardly. "You know, Weasley, I would ask you the same question, but I already know why you're out and about in the dark. You're working for the teachers, and whenever you see someone coming down from the Astronomy Tower, you stop and chat with them, acting like a big red flag for the teachers. Oh, that's right, it's not a flag your wearing on your head. It's your hair."

She blushed; Draco coul tell, even in the dark. "Well, Malfoy. You're one to talk. At least I don't use artificial colouring to keep my hair it's colour."

"Like I do? This is all natural, Weasel. And I don't have to explain anything to you. You're not my boss," he said. Then Draco realised that he souded like a four year old. "I mean, honestly. I'm older than you, obviously I'm more mature than you, and let's face it--I am so much cooler than you."

"Yeah, right, Malfoy. Keep telling yourself that. As much as I would like to stay and chat, I'm off now. Bye, Mister Cool," she teased. He scowled and grabbed her by the arm. In his experience with girls, he had never found one who liked being grabbed. Miss Weasley wasn't too keen on it either, as she socked him in the stomach for it. "Don't touch me."

He pushed her back into the wall. "Shut up for a second. I'm trying to say this without sounding insane. Weasley--I mean, Gina..."

"Ginny," she corrected quietly.

"Oh, right. Ginny, look. I think I'm going crazy, because I'm starting to think I like you."

She arched one eyebrow delicately. "Oh?"

Draco nodded, "I'm probably just over-tired and over-worked, though, so it's not likely that I actually like you. So..."

"What, you want to test it, or something?"

"Is that an option?"

Ginny shrugged, "I guess. I mean, I don't like you a lot, because you're a slimy, smarmy, annoying, perverted, disgusting, greedy--"

"I get it. Now can you get to the point?"

"What I'm saying it that I don't really like you a lot, but if it'll make you go away, then do it. Do some kind of test, or something. But do it quickly, because I'm not standing here all night waiting," she paused, waiting for him to do something. "So--"

He cut her off with a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, and he was trying to decide if he was inexplicably developing a crush on Ginny Weasley. She let her eyes close too, but just as soon as she did it was over. Draco pulled away from her, gesturing that she could go.

"So, what is it?" she asked. "Do you like me?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. Could I test it again?" Draco smiled and she rolled her eyes skyward.

"No way, Malfoy. Go be perverted somewhere else."

She turned and headed upstairs. Draco leaned against the wall, thinking about her. Did he really like her? To be honest, he had no idea. What he was sure of, however, was that it was definately worth testing again.