Torn

Ginny stepped off of the train feeling elated. She knew Harry had noticed her finally, because he kept staring at her. She had wondered at first if she had something on her face, and had excused herself to the hallway to pull her compact mirror out of the folds of her robe - but when she'd inspected her face, she'd seen nothing but the freckles she'd tried to smooth out with makeup.

Hermione walked with her, their arms linked together, up to the great oak doors of the castle. They ran straight into the lavatory, and Ginny turned to her friend, breathless.

"Hermione!" she shrieked loudly, jumping up and down. Hermione giggled and shushed her.

"You'd better be a little quieter, or else the rest of the school will hear you!"

"He was staring at me! At ME!" she squealed again and threw herself onto Hermione, who teetered precariously before steadying herself. She pushed Ginny away gently.

"Yes, I noticed," she huffed, straightening out the front of her robe. "He didn't even bother to close his mouth when you crossed your legs." Ginny giggled.

"Do you think that my luck has changed?" she asked dreamily. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and steered her friend towards the door.

"It looks like it," she said, smiling. "Now all you have to do is ask him out." Ginny froze.

"I can't ask him out!" she said, her mouth forming a small 'O' of horror.

"Ginny." Hermione put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently. "What was the use of getting his attention, if you're not going to do anything about it?"

"I want him to ask me, not the other way around!" Hermione sighed and pulled Ginny out of the bathroom. When they entered the Great Hall, Ron motioned to them. He'd saved them seats. Hermione sat down quickly in the seat next to Ron, forcing Ginny to sit next to Harry. Ginny shot Hermione a withering glance as she lowered herself gently onto the seat. Hermione pretended not to notice, and instead began criticizing Ron on his poor table manners.

"Ron, it's not proper etiquette to put your elbows on the table," she said scathingly. He blinked at her, and then rolled his eyes at Harry, who stifled a grin. He pulled his own elbows off the table before Hermione could nag at him, too. Ron put his hands down in his lap.

"There. Happy now?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Hermione nodded happily and began filling her plate. Harry chanced a quick sideways look at Ginny, who was staring at her empty plate. She had just reached for a roll when Harry spoke.

"Have a good summer, Ginny?" The roll tumbled from her hands and landed on the floor with a soft plop. "I'll get that for you." Harry leaned over to reach for the roll, and his fingers brushed hers. A jolt of electricity made him jerk up. Unfortunately for him, she had the same reaction, and their heads bumped.

"Ow," she said, wincing. "That's the second time I've bumped my head today!" She rubbed her forehead gently. Harry felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, turning back to the table. He wished he could crawl underneath it and just stay there until she'd gone.

"It's not your fault that I'm clumsy, Harry," she said softly, giving him a small smile. Before he could help it, he grinned back at her. She reached for a fresh roll and began to butter it. Harry shoved a forkful of peas in his mouth and tried to concentrate on the food, but he couldn't. All he could do between bites was watch her. She sank her teeth into the roll, and licked her lips to get the butter off them. He felt a tingle in his stomach. She laughed and talked to Hermione throughout dinner, and it nearly drove him mad. When dinner was over, the girls rose and went towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry stuck his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, groaning.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron asked, eyeing his mostly untouched plate. "You haven't eaten very much!"

"I couldn't," he mumbled, his face still covered. "I had other things on my mind." Like flaming red hair and pouting pink lips.

"You know, she's liked you for ages, and you've never acted that way around her," Ron said, eyeing Harry thoughtfully. Harry peeked at him from between his fingers. "Does that mean you're starting to like her back?" Harry dropped his hands.

"For starters, how did you know I was talking about her when I said I had other things on my mind?" Ron shrugged.

"Maybe if you'd taken your eyes off of her even once during dinner, it wouldn't have been so obvious." Harry flushed bright pink. Had she noticed that? "Do you have feelings for her now?"

"Maybe an inkling," he said, his voice lowered. Ron grinned and Harry felt the heat rise in his face.

"Inklings can turn into floods faster than you can say flibberdigibbet," Ron said triumphantly. Harry looked up curiously.

"How would you know?" It was Ron's turn to blush.

"Harry, I'm seventeen," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I've had plenty of inklings by now."

"You're holding back," Harry accused amusedly. "Who's responsible for your flood?" Ron stood quickly.

"I think we should get back to the Tower," he said, turning his back to Harry. Harry stood, grinning, and followed him out of the Great Hall.

He hadn't meant to watch her at dinner; he really hadn't. He'd been listening to Crabbe and Goyle drone on and on about their pathetic summers, and how they'd been dreading coming back for their last year at school. He nodded as though he was paying attention, when some movement across the room had gotten his attention.

A flaming red head ducked under a table, then re-emerged, only to knock against the raven head that had jerked up as well. His blood raced. Potter! He realized that he had been gripping his fork so tightly that it had cut into his palm and cut him. Blood oozed from the thin wound, and he pressed a napkin against it, nonplussed. He watched her talking to the Mudblood; his eyes glued to her every movement. He saw her leave the Great Hall. He stared at the door she'd just walked through until Pansy's voice invaded his peace.

"Draco, are you alright?" she asked, glancing in the direction he was looking. "Want to go to the common room before anyone else gets there?" Her voice lowered as she asked, and he felt the disgust course through him. He turned to her and sneered.

"Why would I want to do that?" She looked hurt. Appearances, Draco. You must keep up your appearance. He heard his Father's voice correcting him, and sighed. His father was long gone - he'd been killed in Azkaban last year. Draco couldn't say honestly that he'd been upset when he'd heard the news. In fact, both he and his mother had been overjoyed. His father had been a cruel man, and they hadn't missed the abuse that he was no longer there to heap on them. Still, he couldn't ignore his rearing. She's a pureblood, you know. His eyes became wide as he realized the truth of those words.

But she's poor, he argued back. She's a filthy Weasley! He waited, but no other arguments came from the small voice. Still, it had given him something to think about. It wasn't as if she was a Mudblood, like her friend, was it? His nose wrinkled in distaste as he thought about her friends. Potter and Granger, he sneered. She doesn't seem to have any common sense at all. He realized Pansy was still staring at him, hurt.

"Fine, let's go," he sighed. Her face lit up, and she stood quickly. He followed her back to the Common Room, where she plopped down on a sofa and patted the cushion beside her. He sat down reluctantly, and she leaned over to press her mouth to his. He closed his eyes and tried not to be bored. He thought about Quidditch this year, and wondered vaguely whether he might be named captain or not. Potter would surely be captain of Gryffindor's team. He thought about the Gryffindor team, and realized that Ginny was on it. His heart leapt wildly as he remembered how she looked, flying through the air with her hair whipping around her face. Before he realized it, he was imagining that she was the girl locking lips with him, and not Pansy. He began to kiss her deeply, parting her lips with his tongue. He heard her gasp, and was brought back to reality when he realized he'd just been fantasizing about kissing a Weasley. He stood, disgusted, and wiped the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand. Without a word of explanation, he stomped up to his room, leaving Pansy staring after him.