The Red Haired Weasel and the Amazing Bouncing Ferret

Ginny Weasley

October 1st 11:31 p.m.

I have to leave for Astronomy soon, so I’d better make this quick.

Today’s session with Malfoy was… Interesting to say the very least. He was rather amusing to watch, and let me tell you. That boys needs more help in Potions than I ever would have guessed.

We started with his homework - to list all the ingredients of the Wolfbane Potion without the help of his book (which had been charmed to prevent cheating). I asked him if he’d taken notes during class and he raised an eyebrow at me, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“Why on earth would I need to help of notes,” he drawled, rolling his eyes for effect.

I stared at him blankly. “Well, I would guess that if I was having trouble in a class, I would take all the information available.”

He paled at this, ever so slightly, and I wondered if I had embarrassed him. Which is, of course, ridiculous. I mean, a Weasley embarrassing a Malfoy.

Sure.

And Snape’s having a passionate love affair with my Astronomy teacher.

Hee hee hee.

Anyway, he was quick to scramble his dignity together and snapped, “So, what’s the answer?”

I swallowed back the comments rising in my throat and stated the ingredients. He started to write them down, then paused.

“What were they again?” he asked.

I will not choke the Malfoy, I thought, I will not choke the Malfoy.

I repeated them.

He licked his lips and then, “What?”

Breathe in, out, in, out.

“Were you not listening,” I asked, careful to keep my temper in check. My mom would be proud of how kind I was being, I reminded myself.

“I was too busy staring into your eyes.”

I wanted to laugh. I really, truly did. But somehow, my vocal cords failed me and all I could do was cough.

“Are you alright?” he asked, seemingly amused.

Glaring, I responded, “If we are going to work together then you’re going to have to keep your sarcasum to yourself.”

“Maybe I was being sincere.”

“Maybe the world is flat.”

“How long did it take you to think of that one?”

I grinned, in spite of myself. “Less than you’d think.”

I considered pressing the issue, but that would make it seem like I cared whether he was being sincere or not, which was insane.

Because I didn’t. And don’t.

And then we went to work on a paper he has due next week on the positive and negitive effects of various types of potions.

At 10 p.m. he stood. “I think we can end this session here,” he informed me.

I breathed a long sigh of relief. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, sometime, I expect.”

I moved to leave when I felt his warm hand rest on my shoulder. I turned and waited.

“Are you in love with Potter?”

I blinked. Twice. I could have lied, or snapped that it wasn’t any of his business anyway, but the words wouldn’t come.

“No,” I finally answered truthfully.

He smirked. “Realize that the heartthrob of the Gryffindor house is more interested in Quidditch than in you?”

“No, that I was more interested in Snape than in him.”

Ha! I’d stunned him.

“Who’d have guessed? A Weasel with taste.”

I thought of my brother, and his pining for Hermione, and found myself turning around and stomping away, inwardly promising myself that that was the last time I was ever going to help that rather sorry excuse for a wizard.

“Ginny,” I heard him call. I ignored it and continued walking.

“Ginny, wait!”

Suddenly I felt warm hands resting on my shoulders.

“What did I say?”

I spun, my eyes blazing.

“What did you say?! Listen here, you pompus, arrogant, self centered prat! You can’t just get away with insulting my family and expect me to sit down and take it! I’m helping you, remember? Or, rather, I was. Not anymore.”

He looked uncomfortable at my outburst. “There’s no need to overreact. It wasn’t really an insult at your brother, anyway. It was intended to be a shot at Mudblood.”

I felt shivers travel down my back at the vicious name. “Do you have some sort of complex that makes it impossible for you to say anything nice about anyone?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed when I placed my hands on my hips. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t say Mudblood anymore.”

“Or Scarhead?”

Another deep, aggravated sigh. “Fine. Now, you agree to continue to help me?”

“I agree,” I said. “As long as you keep up the bargain, of course.”

“Of course.”

So that was my first evening with Draco.

Uh…

By evening, I mean evening spent with him.

Wait. That didn’t quite come out right.

I mean, that was the first evening STUDYING we had.

Yes.

Right.

Okay, got to run. Can’t be tardy. With my luck, I’ll get detention, along with Draco and my evening count with him will up.

And by evening, I still mean…

Okay, sorry.

Night.