Incredible, Starving, Insatiable

Ginny hummed softly to herself as she walked through the twisted, constantly changing halls of Hogwarts to get to the prefect's bathroom. She murmured the password, "Mr. Bubble." Hermione, being Head Girl, had been allowed to choose the passwords for a few places, including the Gryffindor tower. Mr. Bubble, she had explained to Ginny, was her favorite type of bubble bath as a children. Ginny smiled to herself as she remembered the fuss some of the Slytherins caused when they found out the password was Muggle related.

She slipped into the bathroom and headed to the girl's corner of the magnificent bathroom. The professors at Hogwarts had recently decided, since use of the prefect's bath had increased, to make it a little more friendly. Along with the giant bath, which Ginny often used to swim laps in, were showers, male and female, that were separated by enchanted curtains that ensured there were no peeping toms. Or, as Ginny liked to refer to the few that tried, Peeping Slytherins. Even more specifically, Peeping Crabbe and Goyle. The two dimwits never seemed to figure out that the enchanted curtains would throw them backwards every time they tried to watch the girls shower, straight back into the large bath. Ginny giggled again, softly.

Everything Ginny did while alone was done quietly. While she could be seen between classes laughing and talking with the other sixth years, she often became quiet and careful when alone, as if trying not to disturb anything or anyone else. If anyone watched her for awhile, they would realize the laughter seemed to just be a façade; it never seemed to reach her eyes. Even around the Super Trio (yet another nickname for her brother, Harry, and Hermione), Ginny was subdued, seemingly trying not to get in their way, even if they welcomed her ith open arms.

However, no one seemed to watch Ginny long enough to realize all of this.

**********

Draco walked assuredly into the prefect's bath, muttering the password with more than a hint of distaste, arrogantly assuming that he would be alone, as he preferred to be. He decided to swim a few laps before he showered, and stripped down to his boxers before realizing that someone else was in the bathroom. He stepped softly towards the boy's showers, heard that it wasn't anyone in there, and then headed to the girl's side, where he smirked softly.

The curtains, for all their enchantments, still had to be pulled tightly shut by the person inside. From the looks of it, whoever was inside, for Draco couldn't make it out through the steam, had left it a crack open. Draco wasn't a voyeur by nature, but he couldn't help but spend a few seconds with his eyes lingering on the naked back of the young woman inside. He smirked yet again before heading back to the pool, where he gracefully dove in and began to swim his usual 100 laps. He had long since learned that Quidditch wasn't going to be enough to keep himself in shape, and he used swimming to work out, giving his figure a long, lean yet muscular form.

**********

Ginny finished up her shower, and undid the pins that had kept her long hair dry while she was in the shower. The scent of her hair wafted past her nose, the steam had intensified it. She wrapped her robe around her body, and pushed open the curtains, humming a soft tune to herself while walking towards the door. She didn't even notice the robe sitting at the side of the pool, nor the person lying down, exhausted, beside it.

At least, she didn't notice until she tripped on that person, causing herself to stumble and fall, not all that gracefully, beside them. Looking up through her hair, she groaned. Of all the people to trip over, she had to trip over Draco Malfoy, who was sitting up with a very indignant, very angry, and ever so slightly confused face on his porcelain-like features.

"Weasely, don't you watch where you're going?" Draco sneered, his usual calm drawl gone with anger marring his cold features. "You disgraceful, clumsy brat! Can't you even..." Ginny became confused as she watched Malfoy yell; he didn't usually lose his cool over someone tripping on him. Not that it was something that happened very often, she was sure, but still, it was a minor incident, and even Malfoy, the git of all gits, wouldn't get so upset as to lose his reputation of having the coldest poker face in the school. Well, if anyone doubted that Malfoy could even show emotion, she definitely could prove them wrong now, Ginny thought. The anger on his face was almost tangible. Oh dear, Malfoy was rather angrily talking, and she was tuning him out, only to babble to herself in her thoughts. Oh, well, it couldn't be important, it was Malfoy, after all. Why was he so upset? She brushed aside the thought that she could easily figure it out by listening to him, she preferred not to listen to the insufferable prat. Out of the blue, her eyes caught sight of a bruise on his ribcage, just about at the spot where her foot would have struck him. It was large and rather ugly, but Ginny didn't think her small frame could have caused such damage. Was that why he was angry? Ginny squinted her eyes in thought, and suddenly, she thought she saw some of the skin around the bruise waver. She rubbed her eyes, ignoring the strange looks Malfoy was giving her while continuing to yell at her, and peered again, her hair covering her eyes so that he couldn't see where she was looking. The skin was wavering, sort of. It appeared that there was a charm or spell covering up the bruise, and Ginny tripping on him had caused the spell to break for a moment.

"Weasely, listen to me this instant!" Draco demanded. He grabbed her arm, although not painfully, just with enough force to get her attention. She looked up at him, but her eyes kept glancing down, inadvertently. He glanced down himself, and saw...

"Oh, shit.... Shit!" Draco swore a few more times under his breathe, earning a look from Ginny that he blatantly ignored. He twisted his head around to see if any other bruises appeared, found out that none had, and then focused his attention back on Ginny.

"Weasely, if you breathe one word of this to anyone..." Draco threatened, his eyes glinting. He now held her by both arms. Though they were both still sprawled uncomfortably on the floor of the bath, they had each twisted their bodies to face on another. He looked carefully at Weasely to see if she understood his silent threat. Instead, he saw her push her hair defiantly out of her eyes, grab her wand out of her robe (which, she failed to notice, though Draco definitely did not, was slightly askew, giving him a good view of her chest, though nothing too risqué), and perform a quick healing charm on the bruise. She then took his hands, pried them off of her arms, and finally spoke.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Her use of his given name did not go unnoticed by either.

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you?" Draco drawled. "Because you healed up a little bruise that you probably caused yourself? You're nothing, Weasely, why would I trust you with my secrets?"

"Draco," Ginny said firmly, but kindly. She knew instinctively that those bruises didn't come from Quidditch or paying around. "I know I didn't cause that bruise. And if you want, I could probably perform a spell that would reveal anything else that you have hidden, but I won't. I also promise I won't tell Madame Pomfrey, or Dumbledore for that matter, if you just tell me what's wrong. Why do you have bruises that are covered up with magic? Why not have them healed?"

Draco sighed inwardly. The little brat was damn near blackmailing him. Could he just trust her with his secret? It would feel awfully nice to tell someone else. Crabbe and Goyle, even if they weren't mind-numbingly stupid, wouldn't understand, what with their Death Eater aspirations. He looked at Weasel - Ginny, and saw understanding, patience, and compassion in her eyes. Her eyes reminded him a little bit of the pictures he had seen of his mother, before she had married Lucius Malfoy. Blue, a color attributed with cold, but with so much warmth. Somehow, Narcissa Malfoy's eyes had lightened to gray, and were as cold and emotionless as Lucius himself. Draco knew he wasn't going to be able to turn down anything Ginny asked of him now. Not with her eyes like that.

"It's... it's my father," Draco admitted. "I... I, um..."

"He hits you?" Ginny asked softly. Draco nodded quietly, almost imperceptibly, and not looking directly at her. "But why don't you heal them, Draco? After your fourth year, healing charms and spells were required for all fifth years to learn."

Draco hesitated. He wasn't even sure himself why he kept them. "I suppose they're a reminder."

"Of your father? Not exactly the best keepsake around, I'd have to say. I usually go for pictures, myself," Ginny found herself smirking, berating herself simultaneously for such an inappropriate action, given the situation. Draco, however, smirked right back.

"Actually, I wouldn't keep anything as a reminder of my father himself," he replied. "However, these... these are reminders of who my father is. A person I hope to never be."

"A Death Eater," Ginny surmised.

"Basically," Draco agreed. "So, Weasely, going to tell anyone now?"

"Of course not!" Ginny indignantly exclaimed. "I gave my word, didn't I?"

"Yes, but the word of a Weasely isn't exactly the word of a Malfoy," Draco smirked yet again, until he saw the look on Ginny's face that said he had gone too far. Wait. Back that train of thought up, Draco thought. Since when did he ever think that he had gone too far? What was going on with him these days? Maybe he was going insane. It did run in the family, after all. Shaking that thought from his mind, he tuned into Ginny's angry voice. She had stood up, and he followed suit.

"We may not be as rich as you, Malfoy, but we certainly are not untrustworthy, liars. What an insult, coming from the son of the right hand man of You-Know-Who himself!" Ginny positively seethed with anger. Draco found himself wanting to apologize, but having never done so in his life, he had no clue how to go about it. Instead, he focused on what Ginny had said about Voldemort.

"Too afraid to call him by his name?" He meant for it to come out a bit lighter than it ended up sounding. Draco supposed that it was due to the fact that Voldemort wasn't exactly a topic to tease about. That thought was confirmed for him when the anger on Ginny's face only intensified.

"VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORT, VOLDEMORT, VOLDEMORT!" Ginny screamed, causing Draco to stick his fingers in his ears, which Ginny probably would have thought was adorable, had she taken time out from screaming to notice. She pulled his fingers out, and continued more softly. "Other than Harry Potter and Dumbledore," Ginny spoke, furious, "I would probably be the last person on the good side to fear that name. And it's all because your father fixed it so I was on a first name basis with the Dark Lord himself, becoming his slave, doing horrifying evil things for him, all when I was only ELEVEN GODDAMNED YEARS OLD!"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He knew, of course, the rumors of what had happened his second year, with the Chamber of Secrets. He hadn't known, however, that his father had been the one to slip young Virginia Weasely the enchanted diary of Tom Riddle. He looked into Ginny's flashing blue eyes. They were deply blue when she was angry, he noted. Her lips were pouty, too. Her red hair had tumbled down upon her shoulders. Her small frame wasn't all that intimidating, unless combined with her angry but beautiful face, especially compared with Draco's much taller one. Her arms, which had been waving about while she screamed, were now at her sides, Draco observed. Taking advantage of her sudden, though probably brief in length, calmness, Draco placed both of his hands on her arms gently, and very in a very soft voice, spoke to her.

"I'm very, very sorry for the horrible things that bastard I have to call 'Father' did to you," he assured her. "I can only hope you don't assume that I am just like him."

"Well, how can I not?" Ginny asked. "You're a miserable, insufferable git to me and everyone I know. Actually, pretty much everyone but the Slytherins, and everyone knows they're all future Death Eaters or Death Eaters' wives."

"Not all," Draco replied. "Definitely not all. I will never, ever, become a Death Eater. If not for the fact that I think that they are horrible people who do things that are far beyond my capacity for cruelty, then because I don't want to ever become like Lucius Malfoy. That, and I would never survive taking orders from someone else. I prefer to give them." He said this last part smilingly, so Ginny would know that he was joking. She smiled right back, and Draco noticed that he could see her smile in her eyes. "Here." Draco pulled her over to the comfortable sofa that was in the corner of the bathroom. "Getting tired of standing," he explained. She nodded, then pursed her lips in thought as they sat companionably on the sofa together.

"Why are you still mean to everyone then?" She asked. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, me? Not to mention so many others."

"Well, just because I don't want to be a Death Eater doesn't mean I have to like Potter, does it?" Draco replied with a look of disgust on his face. Glancing at her stern face, he grudgingly acquiesced. "Alright, alright. I'm mean to everyone because that's what everyone expects. No one would even believe me if I said I didn't want to become a Death Eater. They just think I'm going to follow in my father's footsteps, and serve the Dark Lord. I've found it's much easier to just do what people expect of you, then to try and change their beliefs. Besides," he continued, "I really don't like Potter. Although, if I really think about it, maybe it's just because everything comes so damn easily to him."

Ginny smiled. "One, not much comes easily for Harry. His parents were killed when he was a baby, he lived with horrible, horrible people for eleven years, his life is constantly in danger, and he has an endless fear that the people he loves will be hurt because of him, because of who he is. It's why it took him so long to admit that he was in love with Hermione, not including the few months that she dated Ron. But, I can see why you would think that. People worship the ground he walks on, even if he doesn't notice it."

"That was you for awhile, wasn't it?" Draco teased. Ginny blushed, so he decided to change the subject. "What's two?"
"Huh?" Ginny crinkled her eyebrows in confusion.

"You said 'One,' and then rambled on pointlessly about Potter. What's two?"

"Oh," Ginny blushed again. Draco decided it was very flattering for her, unexpectedly. He would have thought all the red would have been too much, but it looked very becoming. "Well, just that I believe you. I believe you don't want to become a Death Eater."

"Why? Why do you believe me?" Draco pressed, his mind desperate to seek understanding.

"I can see it in your eyes," Ginny replied, looking him directly in said eyes. "Alright, that sounded cheesy. But it's true. I've always had a sixth sense about these kind of things, and my experience in first year sort of intensified it, especially when related to Dark Magic. Which is how I know you aren't a Death Eater with terrifyingly evil intentions, and ever since I've taken the time to actually look you in the eye and see you for who you really are, I've been sure of the fact that underneath all that hostility, you may actually be a good person." She laughed at Draco's look of horror.

"Look Weasely," he started. At her annoyed look, he started over. "Ginny, then. Sorry, bad habit. I'll try to break it. Anyway, I may not want to be a Death Eater, but I definitely do not want to be called a 'good person!'" Ginny laughed again. Then, impulsively, she leaned over and gave him a warm, firm hug. Draco tensed for a moment, he had very rarely experienced this sort of tender gesture. While he had engaged in some passionate snogging before, it never seemed to have this kind of warmth or emotion to it. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Ginny, and squeezed back. He felt her giggle as a vibration on his shoulder.

Ginny pulled back slightly. Draco's arms kept her from pulling back entirely, and they were left with their faces extremely close to one another. "I think I want to do that more often, if it's alright with you," she murmured.

Draco barely heard what she said, he was focusing too much on the shape of her lips as they moved. They looked really soft. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. He wondered if he'd get a chance to find that out. Almost without thinking, he swiftly moved his face forward until his lips captured hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss at first, which gradually developed into a deeper, searching kiss. Ginny pulled back again, this time slightly out of breath.

"What was that?" She gasped.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Snogging?" He replied. "If you haven't done it before, Weasely, I'd be glad to show you how to." He winced slightly as Ginny whacked his shoulder, although it was more for show, since it hadn't hurt at all. He looked at her pouty lips again, and leaned back in for more. He didn't know what the hell he was getting himself into, but at the moment, he didn't really care.

Ginny felt like something was opening up inside of her. For some reason, kissing Draco was everything she had imagined kissing Harry to be like. She wasn't the most experienced snogger around, having only kissed Neville Longbottom on the lips once, a goodnight kiss after the Yule Ball of her third and his fourth year, and shared a few illicit snogs with Seamus Finnegan, who fled in terror when he realized that Ron would kill him had he known what Seamus was doing to his baby sister. At least, that's what Seamus thought Ron would do. But kissing Draco just felt right. It was as their lips were made to fit together. When he kissed her, it was as though he felt the exact same way that she did, and their feelings were intertwined with one another's. She never wanted this euphoric feeling to end.