The Red Haired Weasel and the Amazing Bouncing Ferret

Draco Malfoy

September 11th-6:02 a.m.

I believe I am driving the Weasel girl crazy. Slowly but surely. It’s rather amusing and has three plus sides.

1-I get to annoy a Weasley, which in and of itself is reason enough.

2-It gets me away from having to subject myself to A Fate Worse Than Death. (Okay, so hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle, though boring, isn’t *that* bad, but how fun is it to say, “A Fate Worse Than Death?” Insanely fun. I think I’ll say it again: A Fate Worse Than Death. (And yes, each word must be capitalized, lest we lose the intimidation of that phrase.))

3-It could possibly win me 50 Galleons.

The whole thing stemmed off a conversation with Pansy. Irritating, feeble minded Pansy.

I mentioned the argument with the Weasel and added (with a dashing smile I save for special occasions), “It’s *so* obvious that the girl is in love with me.”

Now, I am a big enough man to admit when I’ve made a mistake (to a journal, anyway) and I will say this. It was perhaps *not* the best comment. I mean, all the girls around me started laughing and were soon in hysterics. I glared at each of them in turn.

“What?”

Which set them off even more.

Now I was getting irritated, a fact that Pansy seemed to notice, because she answered, “Draco, dear, it’s nothing against you, it’s just…” She grinned. “You are aware that that’s Ron Weasley’s sister you’re talking about?”

I assured her that I was.

She chuckled again. “Honey, let’s be realistic. There is simply no way a Weasley could even be attracted to you. It’s ridiculous.”

“I got you, didn’t I?”

She snorted in the most unladylike fashion. “Weasley and I aren’t even on the same planet,” she informed me. I chose not to gag aloud. “It takes one such as myself to appreciate your winning charms.”

“Well, I’d bet 50 Galleons in another direction.”

Okay, so writing that down, it does look a little like an actual wager. But I did not mean it that way. In fact, idiot sounding as it may, it didn’t even cross my mind that Pansy may take it seriously.

When her eyes lit up, I knew I’d taken this thing too far.

“You would, would you?” she questioned, the amusement oozing from her voice.

With more confidence than I possessed, I answered, “Fifty galleons on my charm, good looks and the fact that I can have any girl I want? Most certainly.”

A couple of the other girls started to grin and I felt a shutter of nerves.

And then Pansy smiled broadly and a slow dawning began to come over me.

Uh oh.

“Fantastic. By-” she paused to turn to Brittany… something… and asked, “what’s a good date?”

I could feel the color draining from my cheeks as the girl answered, “What’s more appropriate than Valentine’s Day?”

My girlfriend, as she called herself anyway, nodded. “That gives him five months.” She returned her attention to me. “You have until February 14th to get Ginny Weasley to fall in love with you. She has to say those three magical words in the presence of at least three Slytherin and it has to look sincere, or else it doesn’t count.”

Have I mentioned that I hate her as well? I do. After all, now I had but two options. Agree to this madness or refuse and let the entire house of Slytherin know that I didn’t believe I could capture the heart of Weasley.

The choice was clear.

“I accept that challenge,” I said, smiling as widely as I could without having to forfeit believability.

“Wonderful,” she said brightly. “Shall we shake on it?”

“Let’s.”

So we did. The deal was sealed.

With that, I jumped to my feet and crossed the room to the Gryffindor table. I could hear a couple of whispers as I dropped into a seat beside the Weasley girl.

I said nothing (careful to keep my face devoid of all hints of sarcasm) and reached for cookie. I was aware of the girl’s glare, but ignored it.

‘Stare some sort of conversation,’ my mind yelled irritably.

What did Weasels talk about? I racked my brain. Where to get the best second hand robes?

Ha! Ha! As if I could even *pretend* that related to me.

How to conjure up a proper hair dye potion in case one of their children isn’t a red head?

What were the odds of *that* happening?

How many years it would take Author Weasley to pay back his Quidditch World Cup tickets?

Somehow I doubted it.

I had no idea what to say to this girl.

She was still frowning at me.

“Yes,” I finally asked.

She gave me what can only be described as a moan of irritation (Why, I am still at a loss for. I had done nothing to her.) and left the table.

From across the room Pansy smirked and sent me a sarcastic wave.

Well, great. Just great.

Of course, that was yesterday. And once again today, I plan to sit with our Ms. Weasley. Maybe I’ll make this an every day occurrence. I wonder if it’s against the rules to sit with another house. I bet so. But then, I bet they’ll give me a break since I’m clearly a distressed young man, what with my parent’s in prison and all. *profuse rolling of eyes*

I must decide on something to talk to her about. I can’t just keep sitting there silently, running through possible topics of interest in my mind. Even I am aware of just how idiotic I look. Certainly it wouldn’t be easy of… *gulp* Ginny to fall in love with someone who can’t carry on a conversation with her.

There has *got* to be something that would interest the both of us. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.

But it basically comes down to this: She and I have absolutely nothing in common and it will be a quite the surprise if she can ever regard me something other than disgust.

Why on earth did I have to open my mouth? Why couldn’t I just let them think what they wanted? It’s not like I care what any of them think, anyway. But no. Draco Malfoy’s got to have his pride.

Maybe I should just ask her things as polite conversation. Like, how she is, and comment on the weather. Far from my usual standards, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.