Quidditch Hero

Quidditch Hero

He could see a flash of gold from the edge of his vision, and he looked over at Potter to see if he had noticed too. He hadn't. Giving a brief smirk, he jerked his broomstick to the left in pursuit of the Snitch. A light rain had fallen, and droplets clung to his eyelashes, making his vision foggy. He ignored it since he didn't have a spare hand and pulled into a low dive as the Snitch dropped a couple of meters.

Chancing a glance back, a solid wall of crimson and gold met his eyes and he quickly turned around searching for the Snitch. Cursing the Firebolt and Potter for reacting so fast, he reached out a gloved hand toward the Snitch, it was only fifty meters or so now. Soon he would be able to taste sweet victory.

Thirty, twenty, ten, it was at his fingertips, and he felt the Snitch's soft wings brush past his palm before he was knocked violently off to the side. Recovering from the shock he turned around to see Potter reaching for the golden ball. Baring his teeth in frustration, he jerked his broomstick around; but it was too late, Potter had closed his hand on the tiny ball and was waving it in the air with a triumphant grin.

Swearing violently, Draco descended to the ground where his furious teammates had gathered.

"What was that, Captain?" Graham Pritchard, the third year chaser demanded, almost snarling the word 'Captain'. "You had the Snitch!"

"Shut up, Pritchard. If you had been concentrating on the game, we could have scored extra points while everyone's attention was on me," Draco growled, offended that the third year had the nerve to accuse him such. After all, it was Draco in his new role as the Slytherin Quidditch Captain who had appointed Pritchard Chaser.

The position had opened up after their previous Chaser and Captain, Montague, had been found jammed in a toilet on the fourth floor before the summer holidays. The poor boy had been confused and disoriented and had unfortunately never quite recovered well enough to handle a broomstick. Draco, however, had quickly given up his mourning stance when Snape announced his chances as the next Quidditch Captain.

If young Pritchard continued with his superior attitude, he may just find himself being replaced by Malcolm Baddock, who had been begging to be put on the team ever since school had begun. However, replaced or not, Draco was sure that a very nasty accident would befall Pritchard before the sun rose the next day.

Angry and defeated, the Slytherin team trudged off to the change rooms, ignoring the wild cheering from the three houses that had lingered to congratulate Harry Potter for his sixth win over Slytherin.

Peeling off his drenched Quidditch gear, Draco threw them into his locker and slammed the door shut. He was about to turn away before he decided against it and kicked a booted foot into the locker door instead. Again and again he kicked away at the metal surface until it was dented in from all sides like crushed steel. Feeling fractionally better, Draco waved his wand at it and walked away from the restored locker.

His teammates silently removed their own gear, wisely keeping their mouth shut to avoid being target practice. It was only after their Captain had immersed himself in the showers that they began to whisper in hurried and angry hisses.

"He was practically on top of the Snitch, and he still couldn't catch it!" Pritchard grumbled, always the first to stir up trouble.

"Be glad you've only had to put up with him for two months, we've had to listen to his incessant bragging for two years!" Warrington grunted.

"It's no wonder everybody goes cheering for Potter. He's a complete amateur!" Adrian Pucey put in.

"He's always bragging about how good he is on a broomstick, but really, if it weren't for us playing dirty, we'd never win a single game!" Theodore Nott complained.

Crabbe and Goyle were vaguely aware that their leader was being badmouthed but were too slow to come up with a decent defence for Draco. Instead, their fickle nature saw them half wanting to murder Draco as well by the time the rest of the team had finished blaming Draco for their loss.

Leaving their Captain to drown his sorrows in the shower, and hoping he'd do much more than that and just drown himself period, the Slytherins went up to the Castle for dinner.

By the time Draco had come out of the Slytherin change rooms with his damp hair slicked back and his uniform on, the rain had stopped and the moon shone brightly surrounded by light clouds. He could see a figure dragging a heavy trunk toward the Quidditch shed on the other side of the pitch. Smirking, he moved toward the person who had just involuntarily become his target for venting his anger. As he got closer, the red hair shining under the moonlight made him almost want to smile. The youngest Weasley, oh this would be fun.

"Need a hand with that?" he called out. "Where's the great Harry Potter now? Certainly not coming to your rescue."

Ginny paused and turned around to glance at him briefly before returning to her task.

"Oh come now little Weasley, it's rude to turn away when someone's speaking to you. Or is it just because I don't have a mop of prickly black hair and ugly green eyes?" he taunted, walking a step or two beside her.

"Really Malfoy, if you'd just pay attention to something other than your reflection once in a while, then maybe you'd be up to date on the news and know that I don't like Harry anymore. And if nothing else, at least you'd be able to try to beat Harry to the Snitch," she retorted, her face twisted into an expression of extreme dislike.

"How dare you say that about me!" Draco hissed in outrage. "I was doing stunts on a broomstick before Potter could even wave a wand. That bloody sod just has better luck! And you must have seen him cheat, I had the Snitch before he rammed into me!"

"All I saw was the two of you racing to get the Snitch, and you losing control and swerving away after the two of you bumped into each other. It happens all the time in Seeker showdowns. You'd know that if you didn't rely on your two beaters to knock the other Seeker into the ground all the time."

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" Draco demanded, so angry he absently picked up the handle at the other end of the trunk. Ginny turned to shoot him a suspicious look but didn't mention it, and they continued to the Quidditch shed at a faster pace.

"Don't play innocent with me, Malfoy. Everybody knows you Slytherins cheat," Ginny said.

He gave a grunt in reply. "Bloody hell this trunk is heavy. What was Potter thinking, leaving a little girl like you to replace the Quidditch balls?" he said after changing hands; his right arm had practically gone numb.

"We wouldn't be here if your two cronies had put the balls away like Madam Hooch asked," Ginny replied between pants, shooting him daggers at his sexist remark.

"Ah, I should have warned her against that," Draco said, shaking his head.

Ginny gave him a curious look.

"You try convincing the two lumps that lost Quidditch balls are more important than their empty stomachs," he explained with a pained look.

A snicker sounded in the air and he glanced over at Ginny who was having trouble hiding her laughter. For reasons unknown, he unconsciously gave her a grin when their eyes met.

"You know, you really are a good Seeker," Ginny said conversationally as Draco bent to unlatch the shed door.

"Thanks for stating the obvious. It took you that long to notice?" Draco responded automatically. She rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I mean. You've got potential, but you're nowhere near Harry's level," she said, popping his swollen head dramatically.

"What do you mean potential? I've got genuine skill! I told you, Potter just has better luck!" he growled, throwing open the door and grabbing the trunk handle.

They carried it in tensely, their eyes narrowed dangerously at each other. After they had replaced the trunk and Ginny had locked the shed, she turned around and faced him. "Look, if you really love to fly, then why don't you respect the game?"

"What are you talking about? Respect what game?" Draco asked, confused.

"Quidditch! You talk about how much you enjoy the game and how good you are and yet you completely disgrace the game with your actions! Buying your way onto the team, cheating, hiding behind Snape," Ginny said, her voice growing louder with every word.

"Hold it! I thought you were just complimenting me not two minutes ago, what's with this sudden barrage of accusations!" Draco asked, thoroughly put off.

"It's the way you act! You're so frustrating! You're never serious about it! During training, you're too busy imitating Harry falling off his broom, that's all you ever do. Even if you were born with natural Seeker skills, you still can't expect to beat Harry without training. If you really want to beat him, then put some effort behind your bragging!" Ginny had worked herself up into a fury, so much so that Draco could tell that her cheeks were burning red even in the dim moonlight.

"Woah! Weasley, I thought I was annoyed and pissed off, why the hell do you seem even more so?" he asked, genuinely confused. "And here I thought you were just a walking doll," he muttered to himself.

"It's just sympathy, Malfoy. I pity the way you're literally out of the running before Hooch even releases the balls. I would feel better if we had won against a worthy opponent."

"Merlin, you're annoying little Weasley, and I was beginning to like you too," Draco said as they headed back toward the castle.

"Heaven forbid!" Ginny countered, making Draco almost certain she had stuck her tongue out at him.

The air around them crackled with their frosty attitudes and they parted ways at the Great Hall, each giving the other one final glare.

All during dinner Draco continued to think about what the little Weasley had said, so much so that he didn't even take second helpings of desert as he was prone to do. Both Pansy and Blaise gave him curious looks at his inattentiveness but he merely waved them off. They complied willingly and both joined their fellow housemates to hiss at the Gryffindor table when their cheering became too rowdy.

"Honestly, you'd think they had already won the Quidditch Cup, the way they carry on. Doesn't it make you sick, Draco?" Pansy sniffed, prodding Draco in the ribs when she received no answer.

"Yeah, sure does," Draco replied unconvincingly. "I'm going out for a walk, don't follow me." He pushed his plate away and walked out of the Great Hall amid another loud cheer from the Gryffindor table. He had been so convinced it was Potter who had cheated that he'd given the loss no further thought, but after the little Weasley's words, he couldn't help but wonder. Making his way to the pitch, he sat silently on the grass and replayed the game over in his mind, grateful for his ability to remember things vividly.

When he had been chasing after the Snitch, he had already been thinking about all the ways of taunting Potter when he finally caught the Snitch and stuffed it in Potter's face. So engrossed in his yet-to-happen victory, he hadn't even sensed when Potter had gone from being behind him to beside him. That was why he had been thrown off so badly when Potter had rammed into him.

"Arrgh!" He gave a growl and ran his hands through his hair before leaning back so that he was lying flat on the grass with his arms spread out. Draco, who had never felt regret for his actions in his entire life, decided that it was an entirely indecent feeling for a Malfoy and started as usual, to look for someone else to blame. It was quite obviously the little Weasley's fault, of course; Potter and that brother of hers had probably been in on it as well. The more Draco thought about it, the more valid it seemed that the three of them had gotten together to make his life just a little more shoddy than it already was. "Blast the whole lot of those ruddy Gryffindors," he mumbled.

"Putting the blame on us again, Malfoy?" a distinctly feminine voice asked. Draco craned his neck to see the little Weasley standing beside him, her back facing the moon, hiding her features from view.

"Come to give me another dressing-down? I ought to warn you though, Malfoys aren't really known for taking this sort of thing lying down. I skipped a second helping of dessert because of what you said. Hope you're satisfied," Draco drawled, not bothering to get up or invite her to sit. He was aware he sounded like a sulky little boy, but he had skipped dessert...

"You're impossible," Ginny said with an amused grin. She sat down cross-legged beside him before continuing. "We'll go ask the house elves for something sweet later."

He resisted the urge to say 'really?' in an eager fashion and instead fixed her with an uninterested stare. "I'm sure your family's too poor to own a house elf so I'll forgive you this time. But it's the job of a house elf to make itself scarce, invisible. How are we going to spot one, let alone get a hold of one long enough to make it cough out dessert?"

"Malfoy, you ruddy toad, stop talking about my family in that manner." Draco raised an eyebrow and looked like he wanted to retort, but she ploughed on. "Or I won't show you the secret entrance to the kitchens."

His other eyebrow joined the first and he pushed himself up so that he was resting on one elbow, facing Ginny. "You know the secret entrance?"

"Fred and George are my brothers, remember? Though they never did tell me how they found out. I even know a secret passageway to Hogsmeade," she paused to give him a sly grin when he perked up at her words, "and I'm not telling," she concluded, her voice teasing.

"You little bint," Draco drawled slowly, giving her an appreciative smirk. "If I wasn't a Slytherin and a Malfoy, I'd say those twins rock."

"Anyway, enough of the small talk," Ginny said, standing up and stretching. "Come on, let's start our practice." Her attitude changed to all business so quickly it took Draco a stunned moment to reply.

"Our practice? I wasn't aware anything like that was on the agenda." It was a question, and he cocked her an eyebrow.

She looked at him flatly. "You honestly think I walked all the way out here in the freezing cold just to listen to you harp on and call my family names?" she asked coldly, giving him a frosty stare.

Draco went to the Slytherin change rooms to fetch his broomstick while Ginny took out the Snitch and a school broom from the Quidditch shed. Without any prior notice, she released the Snitch and watched it dart off into the darkness.

They were both hovering low in the air and Draco gave her a bewildered look. "What did you do that for? You can't expect me to catch that little measly Snitch in the dark!"

He didn't receive a reply though, as Ginny was already busy searching in all directions under the guidance of the moonlight. Suddenly, she took off across the other end of the pitch, zigzagging for a little while before stopping and flying back toward Draco. As she got closer, he saw the telltale flash of gold in her small palm.

"You were saying?" she drawled smugly, giving him a very irritating smirk.

"You are one very annoying Weasley, has anyone ever told you that?" he demanded crossly. "Well? What are you waiting for? I haven't got all night you know."

She gave him one final smirk before releasing the Snitch a second time. They hovered on the spot, giving the Snitch a head start. This time, instead of staying in one spot, Ginny began flying around the pitch, eyes darting this way and that. Grudgingly, Draco followed and searched half-heartedly for the Snitch. The golden ball darted straight across his flying path and Draco veered around to chase after it, grinning at his good luck. The grin disappeared a moment later when Ginny suddenly appeared from beneath him and cut him off, dashing after the Snitch herself. Within minutes she was waving it under his nose in an annoyingly smug manner.

"Don't get cocky, Weasley, it was just luck," he growled, annoyed he had been beaten by a girl, and a Weasley at that.

She smirked. "Funny, didn't you say the same thing when Harry beat you? Bit of a coincidence don't you think? Or are you just a very unlucky person, Malfoy? Besides, beating you to the Snitch is nothing to get cocky about." She turned to look at him steadily, "Anyone can do it."

"You bloody wench," he said through clenched jaws. Obviously she didn't like being called names as her demeanour changed dramatically after that.

"Pay attention then," she snapped suddenly. He blinked at her sudden transformation, she really did sound like a coach with her player. "If you could spend half as much energy on your Quidditch as you do on your bragging, maybe you would have seen the Snitch coming at you."

"Shut up and let's start," he mumbled in submission.

By the time he and Ginny had finished their practice session to her satisfaction, Draco barely had enough energy to roll over. Instead, he lay on the grass and stared up at the now cloudy night, thinking idly how in all the commotion he'd forgotten about punishing that third year Pritchard.

~~~

Draco sat in Advanced Transfiguration idly fidgeting with his wand; he was exerting a great effort just to stay awake. The practice session with Ginny had been months ago, ending when she had abruptly called it a night and strode off without even saying good night. It was as if the encounter had been purely imaginary as after that night, the little Weasley hadn't given him a glance, let alone spoken to him. Even now, Draco regretted not taking her up on her word for desert in the kitchen after practice.

The very next day, Draco had drafted a tight practice schedule for the entire Slytherin team, whom for their part, groaned and grumbled as if they were being led to the slaughterhouse. There was three nights of practice every week scheduled to accommodate his prefect meetings and duties, as well as an entire Saturday morning dedicated to weights training, broomstick manoeuvring and Quaffle skills.

After their game against Ravenclaw, in which Slytherin won 320-30, the other teammates grudgingly congratulated Draco on his captaining. It was so much more fun winning through skill that they had even decided not to throw their bulk around so much against the Hufflepuffs (known for their notoriously small builds). He had circled the pitch after catching the golden ball in hopes of finding her in the crowd, but was disappointed when she was nowhere to be seen. He'd have thought she would want to see how much he had improved since their training, and consequently had been in a crabby mood during the entire night of celebrations.

"Mr Malfoy." A stern voice startled him from his idle thoughts. "You were accepted into my Advanced Transfiguration class on the precondition that you would work hard. Very hard. I have no qualms about expelling you from this class if you continue daydreaming."

"Yes Professor," he mumbled. Catching Granger's offending look of superiority, he mouthed 'Mudblood' at her before turning to listen to the Professor's instructions.

He was glad that Transfiguration was the last class for the day, bounding away from the classroom and out toward the lake before the Professor had even finished the words 'class dismissed'. The annoying old hag really had nothing to complain about, he was sure his marks warranted him a position in the top five of the class. Trying to shake off the stuffy feeling around him, he made his way over to the Quidditch pitch, hoping to have a little fly before dinner.

He began feeling rather thankful to the old professor, however, when he reached the Quidditch pitch to see the little Weasley circling the air doing stunts with a Quaffle under her arm. Instinctively knowing that she wouldn't want to be disturbed, he stayed on the other end of the pitch and watched her fly.

He'd heard that her brother had thrown an enormous tantrum after finding out she wanted to be on the Quidditch team, though with her skills, it was a wonder how he could have stood a chance. She belonged here on the pitch, her determination as she aimed the Quaffle; the little twitch of the lips when she scored; and the glow that surrounded her as she flew. For some reason, she reminded him of Potter, the determination and the ease at which they controlled the field with their flying, it was easy to see who the leaders were.

Finding a nice patch of grass, Draco sat down and took out a quill from his bookbag, twiddling it in his fingers and turning its feathers into every colour of the rainbow. Idly, he wondered what colour she would like; which led to thinking about Potter; which led to him throwing the quill angrily onto the grass. The one person she shouldn't have reminded him of, and yet ... he frowned, was that Potter coming down the path?

Silently, Draco watched as Potter stumbled along with his Firebolt in hand. As soon as she saw him, Ginny landed and made her way toward him.

"Harry."

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, trying to be polite. Try as he might, he couldn't keep out the slight tone of annoyance. He had wanted to fly alone for a while, away from everyone else.

Draco could feel his hands curling into fists. What right did Potter have to talk in that tone, didn't he know he was the intruder?

"Just thought I'd do some flying before dinner. If you want the pitch, it's all yours," she said, looking at Harry.

"Well I don't need it all to myself," Harry replied, though he sounded immensely relieved upon hearing he didn't have to share.

"I was about to go anyway, see you later," Ginny said with a short smile before walking off to the change rooms. Draco followed at a respectable distance, not sure what he was doing but not really wanting to stop or he'd definitely punch Potter in the face.

Ten minutes later, he was leaning against one side of the Gryffindor changing rooms listening to the sound of water pounding on tiles. She was taking a shower.

Draco blushed as a mental picture of her showering came to mind and he shook it off. "I know you're there," she said, when she had walked out a while later drying her damp red hair with a towel. He sighed and came around the corner, not even bothering to ask her how she had found out.

They walked silently up toward the castle. Could this be considered companionable silence? He wondered absently.

"How's your practice going?" she asked when she had finally given up and dried her hair with a flick of her wand.

"None of your business," he drawled coldly before his brain had a chance to react.

She remained silent and gave a brief shrug. Cursing himself, he thought of something to rectify his words.

"You could...I mean - if you want...maybe we can have another practice session," he said slowly, trying to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. No luck.

"I'll think about it." She smiled a little when his face fell at her words. "I have to study for O.W.L.s, Malfoy, can't be so free with my time, spying on people while they practice. By the way I spotted you as soon as you stepped foot on the field."

"I wasn't trying to hide," he replied defensively. "Just didn't want to disturb you."

"I know. That's why I didn't leave."

"Well, we can do other stuff. I did really well for O.W.L.s, you know, I could tutor you if you need any help," he offered. He mentally slapped himself, now he was just going from hopeful to extremely desperate.

"Thanks for the offer, it was really nice of you. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. My brother would have a fit," she said, giving him a wry smile.

"Ah yes, that meddling slug," he muttered under his breath. Deciding he had done enough shameless sucking up for one day, he gave a short wave and veered off to the back of the castle.

Well congratulations, Malfoy, you just succeeded in making a complete arse of yourself. You'll be lucky if she ever talks to you again. In fact, she's probably laughing with her Gryffindor chits about how blatantly wanton you were.

~~~

True to her word, Ginny began nightly visits to the library shortly after their conversation, buried beneath a stack of textbooks every night. Draco, unwilling to give up after his embarrassing display, decided to give it another shot. Grabbing a random textbook from his table, he made his way over to the library, searching for her telltale red hair amongst the crowds. He found her seated in the middle of a crowded table, her attention focused on a thick, dusty-looking book. Collecting his Prefect arrogance, he shooed away the second year Ravenclaw seated next to her and sat himself down nonchalantly. She looked up at him with a short smirk.

"Not yet ready to give up?" she asked, a smile chasing around behind her calm expression.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Weasley, just thought I'd brush up on my Transfiguration before the next test," Draco replied huffily.

"And that would be why you brought Magical Drafts and Potions?" Ginny asked, reading the title of his textbook over his shoulder. She was openly grinning now.

Draco flushed despite himself. "I was going to look at that after Transfiguration," he mumbled weakly.

Perhaps taking pity on him, she gave a short, knowing nod and shoved a book into his hands. "Alright, explain the Draught of the Living Death to me." She sat back; chin perched on one hand, looking at him expectantly.

He was about to tell her where she could shove her book, but luckily, was able to bite his tongue. She had let him off the hook, helping him find an excuse for staying, which was more than he could have hoped for. Taking the opportunity, he began a short explanation of the potion before she pointed to another, which he continued to explain. Two hours later, Ginny gave a yawn and a lazy stretch before declaring it was time for her to return to her dormitory. Holding back his disappointment, Draco offered rather gallantly to escort her back to her Common Room.

Standing outside the Fat Lady's portrait, he'd stood with his hands in his pockets trying to look offhand.

"Anything else you want to say? Before I go in," Ginny asked, smirking as his cool façade.

"N-no, you may go," Draco replied, cursing his slight stutter.

She grinned and turned toward the Fat Lady but was stopped a moment later.

"Oi!" She turned around with a questioning look, but before she could open her mouth to ask, he'd placed a short kiss on her lips before retreating just as quickly. She stared at him with wide eyes and he returned her look with a confused one of his own. Why did I just do that? "Good night!" he said, rather loudly, before turning and hurrying down the stairs toward the Great Hall.

Ginny was left to stare after him, her fingertips touching her lips where he had kissed her.

~~~

Back in the Slytherin Common Room, Draco's expression was struggling between a look of horror; a smug smirk; and a satisfied smile. He finally settled for all three of them, changing his look in quick succession, much to the dismay of the other Slytherins.

"Draco, mate, you feeling alright?" Blaise Zabini asked, waving a hand in front of Draco's face.

"Fine, fine," Draco replied distractedly, fending off Blaise's hand. Then, as if on second thought, he motioned for Blaise to come closer, after which he changed his mind and dragged Blaise to their deserted dormitory. After closing the door and double-checking the lock, he turned to a bewildered looking Blaise.

"What's this all about?" the other Slytherin asked.

"Just shut up a sec, I need to ask you something. Is there...is there any other reason for kissing someone other than that you like them?" he asked quietly.

"What?" Blaise asked, then laughed. "You can't be serious, all this secrecy for such a lame question?"

Draco gave him a warning glare. "Just answer me!"

"Well...I don't know...because the chick's hot?"

"No...no, that's not it," Draco said, shuddering at the thought.

"Because...you're doing it to annoy her friend...who, likes you?" Blaise was pulling this out of his rear, but he was quite enjoying Draco's strange discomfort.

'No, not that either."

"Alright, because she challenged you or it's a dare. Because you like the shape of her lips. Because you had a moment of insanity, because Merlin sent you a vision demanding that you kiss her." All of these were met with an insistent shake of the head, while the last was answered with a dangerous glare. "I give up. You kissed her because you fancy her, Malfoy. Simple as that."

Draco looked like Armageddon was approaching. Blaise resisted the urge to burst out laughing; after all, he liked his skin just fine and did not want Malfoy to hex it off for him.

"Who's this girl that got kissed, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Damned if I'm gonna tell you," Draco retorted. "Alright, you can go now." He proceeded to kick Zabini out of the room without further ado.

I fancy her, impossible! If anything, she's the one who fancies me! And so it ought to be! Draco thought triumphantly. Even with his determination, Draco had this sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach, something wasn't quite right.

~~~

"Hi, Draco!" Ginny greeted Draco at the entrance to the Great Hall with a cheerful smile. He blinked, as if blinded by her overzealous attitude.

"Err, hi."

"What, no morning kiss?" she teased.

"About that," Draco began, looking nervously at the floor. "It, well, it was an accident, and I'm sorry."

"You accidentally leaned forward and landed on my lips?" Her voice had grown icy and the friendly twinkle in her eyes had disappeared.

"Yeah, well I mean - " He broke off as Ginny suddenly turned and ran the other way. Panicking, he followed and they rounded a corner, Draco grabbing hold of her shoulder and spinning her around. "Isn't this the way to the Hufflepuff Common Room? What are you going there for?" He was blabbering and he knew it, but whenever he faced this fireball, his wits just seemed to desert him.

"To get away from you!" She glared at him angrily.

"Of course," he said quietly, before falling silent. Awkward and frustrated, Draco stared at the floor, trying unsuccessfully to find a way of backing out of the situation unharmed.

"You're so annoying!" she burst out suddenly. And he felt a stab of pain flash through him.

"I-I'm ..." he trailed off; unable to think of anything he could say that would make things any better.

"How thick can you be? Do you honestly think I would help out a Slytherin, and Harry's rival out of the blue for no reason? I've already spent two years waiting for you to notice me, how long is it going to take for you to finally - " she stopped and let out a frustrated growl before storming off.

He stared after her in confusion before following. "Wait-I-I don't understand...have I missed something?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Of course you don't understand, it's my own fault anyway, to have expected you to care," she said, looking away from him.

"What, of course I care." He paused, his words chanting through his mind. He shouldn't have said that. He looked down to see her looking at him expectantly. Well she didn't look like she was disgusted at the thought... Oh sod it.

"I-I er, care about...Quidditch! Yes. I care about it a lot," he said, nodding his head for effect, mentally hitting himself for being so stupid. He just couldn't say it.

"You care about Quidditch?" she repeated, staring at him with a bemused expression. "Right." She turned to walk away, and Draco found he couldn't manage to say anything to make her stay. He watched as she grew further away, wanting to say it but unable to. Finally, just before she rounded the corner...

"I lied! I care about you! Did you hear that? I care about you!" he shouted down the hall, sincerely hoping it was as deserted as it looked. He jogged toward her, slowing down when she turned to face him. He chanced a peek at her expression; she was smiling.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she said teasingly, and he found his own lips twitching of their own accord. In a matter of seconds he was grinning goofily at her as she smiled up at him, both walking toward each other.

He leaned down slowly, giving her enough time to move away if she wanted to. Though, he hoped that she wouldn't.

She didn't. He smiled and felt her grin as their lips met, softly, and then again, before he moved his arms up to hold her tight against him. He knew that if he didn't say this before his courage deserted him, it was unlikely he'd get a second chance. Taking a deep breath, he moved away enough to look down at her.

"Ginny Weasley, I think I like you. Wait, I mean, I do like you. Would you...would you - I mean, could I - can you give me a chance?"

"Yes." She smiled widely at him before throwing her arms around him once more and holding onto him tightly. "I've been waiting for this for so long."

"Well, you could have been a bit clearer about it," he chided, holding her closer.

"Yes, well, you weren't exactly the smart cookie I'd hoped you would be," she retorted. "Still, you'll always be my Quidditch Hero."