The Red Haired Weasel and the Amazing Bouncing Ferret

Draco Malfoy

November 8th 5:15 p.m.

This bet is becoming very, very dangerous.

Because as each day passes, I find myself able to… increasingly tolerate Ginny Weasley.

How this is possible, I’ve no idea. But there it is.

I was completely surprised by her story of her brother, Percy. I’d met the guy before, certainly, but he’d never really impressed me as particularly loyal to his family. Much like my father, he was enamored by power and craved it with intensity.

Who’d have guessed it would later cause him to turn on his family?

I’d heard the story before but it was different to hear it from her.

From someone he hurt.

And I find myself wanting to fly to Azkaban, enter his cell, and choke him with my bare hands.

Simply because he hurt Ginny.

Which I am going to do in a couple month’s time.

My insides are knotting up at just the thought. Could it be fear?

Certainly not. How dare you insinuate such a thing?

But I will admit, I am beginning to look forward to encounters with the red haired weasel. Her smile is sort of…lightening. It makes the shadows of my existence a little less dark. And her laughter is rich and full, and, Merlin help me, catching. And her kisses…

Her kisses…

They taste of promise.

…

I *do* sound like a bad romance novel.

But that’s insane. For that would hint at an actual romance. Of which there is none, as the entire thing is an act. I don’t care about her. And even if I thought that perhaps, for a fleeting instant, I might actually enjoy being with her beyond February, it wouldn’t matter. Because in the end, she’s still a Weasley, I’m still a Malfoy, doing exactly what my entire family has always been known for.

Manipulating for personal gain.

Got to love it when you live up to Daddy’s expectations.

Potions is getting to be my least favorite subject. I dread entering those damned dungeons and keep an eye on the time, inwardly encouraging the minutes to go by more quickly.

Completely because of Ron Weasley and Professor Snape.

The former far more so than the latter.

Out of respect for my-for Ginny, I have been making an effort to keep the verbal abuse on her family, Potter, and Granger to a bare minimum. Indeed, I have been able to successfully avoid all confrontations with the dream team for almost a whole month. And Know-It-All and Mr. Boy Who Lived have had no problems giving me the same courtesy. But that Weasley… It’s like he *wants* to fight with me.

Like yesterday. I didn’t say anything snide to any of them, was working hard on the potion I was attempting to concoct. But I chanced a look at Granger, to see if her coloring was identical to mine (it was) and Weasley saw me.

And felt compelled to snap rather loudly, “Stop trying to compare your work to hers, you Death Eater.”

Of course, Professor Snape took 20 points from Gryffindor for the remark, but I didn’t feel at all avenged. Although a Malfoy is born with thick skin, it always hits a nerve when a comment is made about my parents.

Not that I care, of course. It’s just… Aggravating.

As for Snape, he’s really starting to grate on my last nerve.

I know, I *know* that he didn’t see my dinner with Ginny. But the git keeps looking at me like he thinks he knows something that he finds *exceptionally* amusing. And he had the gall to say to me yesterday, “I didn’t know you were a fan of cheesecake.”

How could he have known? This isn’t one of those things you can pull out of your head and *guess.*

And it’s not like I’m not under enough stress as it is. I have a Transfiguration essay due at the end of this month, Quidditch practice three times a week, and a girlfriend that I’m attempting to see on the sly.

…

Girlfriend.

Our match with Gryffindor is in January. Somehow, I think it may be hard to focus on the game, considering that Ginny is a chaser.

Speaking of Quidditch, it’s Gryffindor against Hufflepuff in 20 minutes. Better run.

8:13 p.m.

Gryffindor won. Not that there was any doubt, of course. Hufflepuff’s team has gone downhill ever since their last captain graduated.

Ginny… She’s an amazing flier. She’s quick, even if she hasn’t got the best broom, and exceptionally level headed. She could see this situations unfolding before her and deduce the best action in a split second.

I was proud of her.

And when Potter finally got around to catching the Golden Snitch, meaning a win for Gryffindor, my heart leapt into my throat as if it had been Slytherin that had beat Hufflepuff.

She found me alone after the match and leapt into my arms.

“We won,” she yelled breathlessly.

I held her close and kissed her lips lightly. “That you did. You looked good up there.”

She smiled widely. “Not as good as Harry,” she argued, her eyes dancing with laughter.

“Cute.”

“I thought so.”

We stood out by the Quidditch field silently for a moment. To part ways would be to bid good evening and I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

For reasons I have yet to identify.

“Am I going to see you again soon,” she asked.

I mulled over my pile of homework and Quidditch practices and then answered, “Sure. How about later tonight?”

She smirked. “I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm.”

“We wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed away and I knew she was thinking about what would happen when she told her family. But there’s no need, of course. Because when February comes I’ll be out of her life, and all that’ll be left of our relationship will be memories.

And boy will I be glad when this charade is over. I’m starting to forget things.

Like why I hate Weasleys so much.

And how I managed to get by day after day, never really seeing the girl that was standing right there in front of me.

“I should go,” she said suddenly. I followed her line of vision and saw a couple of people from her house not too far away. They hadn’t caught sight of us yet, but you can’t leave anything to chance lately.

I nodded my compliance and kissed her once more. “I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

“Right. Only, let’s stick to the Room of Requirement, shall we? I’ve got a funny feeling about continuously meeting in the Astronomy Tower. Every time Professor Sinistra looks at me, it’s like she knows what’s going on. Like she gives me these looks…”

“Okay,” I agreed hastily. “Room of Requirement, say, 9:00?”

“See you then.”

She darted off and I watched her go, then shook my head and headed in the other direction.

I think I’m going crazy. Because as I approached the school, a funny thought struck me, startling me more than words can say.

‘February is too close.’