The Red Haired Weasel and the Amazing Bouncing Ferret

Draco Malfoy

October 29th 3:13 p.m.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate Hogsmeade weekends? They are by far the most boring of the activities around here. The shops are interesting, but I’d much rather be in school than browsing the isles of Honeydukes. The Three Broomsticks is the only reason I come along with the other students here. At least I can get a drink in solace if I’m hateful enough to drive away my companions.

And, luckily enough, today is one of my ‘on’ days.

Ugh, there’s Potter and his fan club. Minus Ginny, I feel compelled to add. Granger (I am attempting to get into a habit of ex-ing the whole “disgusting nicknames” thing, but cannot bring myself to call her by her first name) is holding Weasel’s hand, and looking very gooey-eyed. They’ve been irritatingly all over each other for a few days.

I’m certainly glad that isn’t me. For if I ever look in the mirror and see that expression upon my face, I may stab my eyes out.

Weasel keeps looking over here at me. I don’t think Ginny has filled them in on our late night rendezvous so I wonder what he thinks I’ve done this time. Probably, he’s just afraid I’ll go over there and ruin their perfect little date.

He has nothing to worry about, I assure you. I have no interest whatsoever in moving from my spot.

Well, *that’s* interesting.

Professor Snape has just entered the Three Broomsticks with no other than… My astronomy teacher, Professor Sinistra.

He’s glaring at her and she looks rather smug.

“I’m telling you, Severus, Hogwarts will be the perfect place.”

Uh oh. His jaw line is rather clenched. If I know my potions teacher, she might want to back off on whatever subject they’re discussing.

She is raising an eyebrow at him as they pass by. “How many times do I have to tell you? That look is not intimidating to anyone.”

Clearly she has not seen him glare at Longbottom with that same expression. The reaction that boy gets is… well, rather amusing, to be frank.

I wonder what she wants to use Hogwarts for.

I think I am going to wander the stores until the appropriate time to return to the castle. I’ve had about all the “fun” I can take for one afternoon.

10:15 p.m.

Well, I was wrong.

Fun can come in many different forms.

When I walked out of the Three Broomsticks, I went straight to Honeydukes, deciding to grab a couple of chocolate frogs to add to my current stash. Or, rather, that was where I *was* going, when I slammed right into Ginny Weasley.

She froze.

We hadn’t spoken since our almost kiss the other day, and she looked rather stunned. A charming shade of red began to color her cheeks as she choked out words.

“Uh, sorry Draco.”

I nodded at her apology, expecting her to skitter away, but to my surprise, she rested one of her hands on my arm. I glanced around, saw no one I recognized, and settled my gaze on her. Bright eyes stared at me.

“I think we should talk,” she said firmly, her voice stronger than it had previously been.

Having no idea what this was about, I shrugged, and followed her from the view of the street.

We were now in a deserted field.

Alone.

For some reason that I couldn’t define, a shiver crawled up my back as that realization hit me.

A sudden gust of air swept through the field, tossing her hair carelessly in her face. She chuckled self consciously, and attempted to tuck it behind her ears.

An effort totally in vain.

“What did you want to talk about,” I asked, as conversationally as I could.

“Us.”

“Us,” I repeated. The word sounded odd on my lips.

She nodded.

“Right.” She paused and took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking. What odd behavior.

“Listen, we both know what almost happened the other day,” she began.

Indeed.

I remained silent.

“I just think… If I’m going to be tutoring you, these…” Her voice trailed away as she searched for the appropriate word.

“Near-events,” I offered.

“Right. Near-events really need to be kept down to a bare minimum. You can’t afford to…”

She stopped, and yet again because of a loss for words. But the situation wasn’t identical.

I was moving in.

Drawing closer to her with every step, I could feel my heart racing in my chest. But it wasn’t desire.

Not that.

It couldn’t be.

I raised my hands to rest on either one of her cheeks, warming them at the contact.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, but her eyes, which held mine fast, were shouting something entirely different.

“You overestimate my control,” I returned.

With that, her eyes slipped shut, and I knew there was no running away.

Slowly, achingly slowly, I lowered my head and allowed my lips to find hers.

And I could hear her quick intake of breath when they did.

While her cheeks had been cold, her lips were hot. They tentatively slid across mine, and at this close contact, I could feel her tremble. She pulled me closer, still, as though searching for warmth in the autumn air.

When it was finished, she stepped back, her balance somewhat off.

“Why did you do that,” she asked, with presence of mind I wouldn’t have attributed her.

I forced a smirk that I didn’t really feel. “Why do you think?”

“Dammit, Malfoy!”

The force in her voice caught me somewhat off guard.

This was it. One of many paramount moments bound to happen.

“Do you *really* believe I need help in Potions?”

A dawning realization lit up her eyes.

“Oh.”

Oh?

I practically tell the girl that I’ve been chasing her, and all she can say is, “Oh”?

I’m so glad I’m not in love with her for real, or I really *would* stab my eyes out.

She cleared her throat as I stood, waiting.

“I need to think about this,” she said, and turned away.

And I haven’t heard from her since. But I’m not concerned. There hasn’t been a girl yet able to resist the Malfoy charms.

And I’m *certainly* not worried about that… whatever I felt right before the kiss. It was a slip in my self control. It was bound to happen eventually. Better sooner rather than later.

Really.

Now all I’ve got to do is convince her that she really wants to date me and, preferably soon, that she loves me.

It’s all starting to come together.