Cry Me A River

Cry Me A River
Chapter 1
Paint it Black

The Weasleys and the Malfoys have hated each other for many centuries. Legend has it that it all started back in 1432, when a Malfoy "accidentally" stepped on the hand of a small Weasley child. Page 674 of the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct, section 4b, clearly states that being humiliated or beaten in public is not to be tolerated. Draco, unfortunately was made to read the book cover to cover, so he knew that Section 4c clearly stated that after being humiliated or beaten by a Weasley in public, the Malfoy in question would be subject to boiling oil or tar and feathers. Both were very popular tortures at the time the book was written. Draco, knowing his father's cruel temper, was not about to mention the brawl with Weasley to him. Lucius Malfoy was the type of person who did things by the book.

After disappearing from the Weasleys' view, Draco had headed out of Diagon Alley, and into Knockturn. The grimy, dark, smelly alley was home to many Dark Arts shops, many of which he'd visited with his father in the past.

"Let go," he said gruffly to a dirty street witch who had grabbed his sleeve. The frightened witch backed off when he raised his other hand to strike her. She disappeared from view into the shadows, swearing under her breath. Feeling a small sense of pride, he continued down Knockturn Alley. He'd always hated it when the scum of society asked for anything.
Passing the dirty window of Thres' Repellents for All Occasions, he caught his reflection. The Weasley had done some damage it seemed. It was just a small cut along his jawbone, but it was a cut. Mentally berating himself for not noticing it before, he quickly pulled out his wand and healed the thin cut. Satisfied, he walked toward Edwigin's Cursed Artifacts where he could see his father through the window.

Stepping through the door of the shop, Draco cringed at the smell emanating from inside. Fermenting fruit lay in a barrel near the door, the smell of which wafted alongside of those of dirt and mustiness. Through the dim gloom of the store, Draco could see his father motioning for him to come over. Draco obeyed only when he could see his father's patience diminishing. In his father's hand lay a dark and deformed bottle. Draco raised an eyebrow when he saw it. It wasn't a pretty sight. It was slightly chipped and cracked in places and it contained what appeared to be black sand. Its cork was rotten and old and, on the whole, it was ugly. It almost looked like something a Weasley would possess.

"What is it?" he asked. His father just motioned for him to be quiet as the shopkeeper returned from the back room. In his hand was a small wooden box, which, in Draco's opinion, was as ugly as the bottle itself. Grinning a toothless grin, the shopkeeper gently took the bottle from Malfoy Senior's hand and opened the box. The pine outside was quite a disguise. The inside was of the finest cherry, and soft folds of velvet nestled the bottle before the lid was slammed shut and locked with a tarnished sliver key. Then the shopkeeper hurried behind the counter.

"Knowing the condition of the object and consequences of owning such an item Mr. Malfoy, do you still wish to purchase it?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, yes, I know the consequences, and I believe we've already agreed on a price," he replied impatiently. The shopkeeper shrugged his sagging shoulders and reached under the counter for a sheet of plain paper. Quick as a fiddle he wrapped it up and secured the parcel with string. Looking suddenly quite happy, he announced the total.

"5,231 galleons please."

Draco watched with widened eyes as his father handed over the sum of money. Even though money was never an issue in their family, a little voice in the back of his head told him that that was a lot, Malfoy or not. His father plucked the parcel from the shopkeeper's hand and swept off out the store, Draco in tow. The dim lighting of Knockturn Alley soon turned into the bright and cheery Diagon Alley. The light change was so quick that Draco's eyes didn't adjust at first. Then he saw them. The Weasleys, Mudblood Granger and Potter were still there having a grand old time. He hated them, all of them.

The little Weasley girl was laughing with the rest of them. What was her name? He thought to himself. Jenny, Jennifer, no, Ginny. That's it, Ginny. His mind strayed back to the fight he had had moments before. He'd approached them, said his usual barb, and then gotten socked. It was easy to respond to any of their comments; it was a simple formula, patent pending. He just picked one in the group, insulted them, insulted their relationship with another one in the group, and them insulted that person. He already had one about the little Weasel ready to roll off his tongue when he was hit. Though he never thought the older Weasel would have had the backbone to hit him. Nor did he think of how much it would hurt.

He would have made the girl squirm in her chair; he would have teased the pretty little thing about Potter. Oh, and yes, he would have teased the girl about her family. Whether or not he thought her pretty would not spare her the pain of his barbs. Not even in the little yellow sundress she was wearing . . .

The rest of the day had gone relatively normally for Ginny, until Hermione introduced an entirely new concept to her. They had been outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions when Hermione showed a whole new side to her. She pulled Ginny aside and brandished a bottle of a blue and purple liquid at her.

"What is it?" Ginny softly asked.

"Nail polish," answered Hermione with a grin. Ginny bit her lip. She'd heard of such a thing, but never actually seen a bottle of it. Witches simply just waved their wands to color their nails. What puzzled Ginny even more was this suddenly very feminine side of Hermione. Now that Ginny noticed, Hermione had her hair done, her nails had that Muggle polish thing on them, and she was wearing the slightest hint of make-up. This was not the Hermione that Harry, Ron and Ginny loved like a sister. She was somehow different and it was very strange. Very strange indeed.

"Never get any of it on clothing, carpet, hard wood, hair, definitely not near any heat source, counter space, any part of your bed," she rattled off, "and try to paint only you finger nails. And don't touch it before it dries." Ginny eyes grew wide as the list got longer. Surely Muggles didn't actually give their children this or endorse the use of it - it seemed dangerous. But Hermione handed her the second bottle and assured her that it wasn't as dangerous as it sounded. Ginny didn't really believe her then, and Ginny still didn't believe her once she had returned home, gone to her room and set the bottles on her nightstand.

But that was three hours ago. Ginny had now just started to convince herself that Hermione wouldn't give her a dangerous object. She cautiously approached the nightstand and sat down on the edge of her bed. It couldn't be that dangerous, she reasoned and began to twist off the top. Once the applicator was unscrewed she braced herself for an explosion. When it didn't come she laughed at herself for being so silly and tried to paint her right thumb. The first streak of paint was a delight for her eyes, never before had she experienced this Muggle creation. Truth be told, she'd never experienced any form of Muggle cosmetics before. It was common knowledge that all a witch would have to do is a simple beauty charm. Most were found in Witch Weekly.

Soon her hands were done, only having minimal smudges and paint in areas she didn't want it. It was time to let it dry now, so Ginny slipped the applicator back into the bottle and waited with her hand stretched out in front of her. Soon her mind started to wander though - watching paint dry was not the most mentally stimulating activity. The fight that had ensued that morning still had not left her mind. Her brother's rage was apparent enough, even after Mrs. Weasley had pulled him aside and Malfoy had disappeared.

"I'll kill him next time," he had vowed while making gestures of what the his hands could actually do, "I swear I'll strangle him." Her mother hadn't heard that and Harry and Hermione thankfully calmed him down, or her brother might have been dragged by his ears all the way home. He had hated Malfoy before; they had been in many physical brawls, usually ending with a teacher, a bloody nose or black eye on one of them. They had never brawled without losing points or getting detention before. It had been also the most physically demanding fight Ron had ever been in. He wasn't about to forget it.

Malfoy had escaped with a small cut on his face and maybe a few sore limbs, but would never face a scolding. Ginny supposed it was a praiseworthy deed to beat up a Weasley. He was sure handsome though, all rumpled and ruffed up . . .

Ginny woke up the morning of the trip to Hogwarts as groggily as she had ever woken up at 6:30 in the morning. She'd always hated waking up early; she'd always hated leaving the warmth of a well slept in bed and the sleepiness it ensured. But with either Gred or Forge banging on the door and shouting for her to wake up it was hard to justify staying in the warmth.

"I'm up," she hollered at the door. "I'm up."

After pulling on a warm mother-made burgundy sweater and a pair of hand-me-down black pants she had acquired from one of her brothers, she headed down the stairs. The noises from below alerted her that there was more than her family down there. But she didn't think much of it. People were always coming or going at the Burrow.

Her mother was tending over the stove, occasionally pointing at one thing with her wand or stirring something else with the other hand. Her brothers were out in the garden, De-gnomeing it as they went along. Hermione and Harry were also out there, sitting under the willow tree and talking animatedly with Ron. She never enjoyed De-gnomeing; the little buggers always bit her hands.

"Breakfast!" she called out. Heads turned at the thought and every one seemed to stop what they were doing. It always amazed her that boys' minds constantly seemed to focus on the next meal. Her brothers and their company quickly headed for the door and plunked themselves down at the table, immediately digging into bacon, eggs and toast. Ginny took a seat down beside Ron and her mother and helped herself to some eggs and toast.

"Twanks moum," Ron declared as he stuffed his face with eggs, before inhaling, coughing and needing Harry to thump his back. Looking very strangled, Ron coughed and seemed to clear his airways. He began to munch on toast very carefully now and sip his milk carefully as well. Ginny tried to suppress a giggle but failed miserably. Ron always choked on something at breakfast. Shooting her an evil look, Ron took a bigger bite of his toast, chewed and began to choke again. Some things would never change.

Most people had friends to sit with on the train - sometimes they were allies, but bodyguards - that were a special case. That was Draco Malfoy. He usually traveled with two big goons by his side, and had long forgotten who was Crabbe and who was Goyle. Today was an exception. Today he searched for a compartment alone, avoiding both his henchmen and the Golden Trio. Weasley was no doubt still angry and a black eye or broken limbs were not preferable. He was cunning, not brave or stupid.
Fate didn't seem to like him today, though. He had been up and down the train twice in search of an empty compartment, but with no luck. They were either full of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, or even the occasional Slytherin couple having sex. It was not the kind of thing one barged in on.

At last though, Nirvana. An empty compartment. He slid open the door, but spotted a red-haired Weasley. Not just any Weasley though - it was the girl, the youngest, the one looking at him right now. Putting on his best smirk, he entered the compartment and drew his index finger across one of the seats. Checking his finger he saw no dust but looked on with disapproval.

"Fit only for a Weasley," he drawled. He watched with slight satisfaction as her ears became red and she hands gripped the seat. "Nothing in here," he continued, " could be fit for anything but a Weasley."

"Shut up Malfoy," she seethed. He raised his eyebrows at her response, he hadn't expected her to actually respond.
"Why Weasley, you do have a voice." he smirked. Ginny's ears grew even more red, and she quickly decided that smirking should be outlawed.

"I intend to use it," she stated cooly. She couldn't let him rile her up.

"That I see," he said calmly, "what you use it for, is still to be seen." Ginny stood up now, he's crossed the line, and she was going to make sure he knew it. Seething, she raised her hand and smacked him across the face. A crack sounded through the air and he stumbled backwards. She'd had some strength in her body, and intended to show it. She raised her hand to strike him again, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled it down. She wasn't the only one who was stronger than they looked.

"Little Weasel," he said dangerously, " don't you ever, ever do that again."

"Or what?" she braved. He harden his jaw and contemplated this, he wasn't going to hurt her physically, not with her brother already out for his head. An idea did come to mind though. Grinning he slipped his hand behind her head and pulled it forward, crashing her lips into his.

At once, Ginny's mind didn't function. The heat and fierceness of it all just made her mind just leave her. She felt his tongue part her lips, and tango with hers. It was better than what her dream kiss had been. She let out a muffled moan, never had she imagined that it would be this good. It had gotten deeper and hotter before Ginny realized who she was kissing. Draco Malfoy, the boy who had made her family's, friend's, and her life a living hell. He was giving her first kiss.

She pushed away with her one free hand and tried to wrench her head from his grasp. He finally let and took in her appearance. She hair was slightly mussed, her face had taken on a slightly flushed appearance and her lips were slightly swollen. He might of thought her beautiful if a though hadn't entered his mind at that moment. He'd kissed a Weasley. He didn't even want to think what the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct had to say on that topic. The compartment door chose to slid open at that moment though, causing both of them to look in that direction. Ginny thought she heard a soft swear from him, as the Dream Team stepped through the door.

Hermoine gasped at the sight of them while both Harry and Ron clenched their fists. Draco immediately let go of Ginny, turned around and silently challenged Ron to do something about it. Which, of course, Ron did.

Ron's fist came out and struck Draco in the abdomen. He grabbed Ron's shirt and kicked his feet out from under him before staggering and knocking into Ginny, who was then knocked onto the seat behind her. Hermoine grabbed Harry before he could give Malfoy a black eye.

"No Harry," she said firmly. Harry scowled but obeyed. He then grabbed Ron, pulled him up and then grabbed Ginny, leaving Malfoy on the floor. Quickly the dream team exited the compartment and stalked down the train.