To Conquer the World

To Conquer the World

Within Her Kingdom, Her Throne Awaits...

She hurried through the heavy doors and instinctively took in a deep breath of the library air. Immediately her nerves loosened as the welcoming smell of thousands upon thousands of books met her nostrils. Smiling, she floated toward her favorite table in the dark corner, illuminated by a single window.

The corner that held a lone table enclosed by the back wall of the library; the bookshelf that held the heavy volumes of Potions texts; and a small, square window that sat two feet up on the left stonewall. One time, out of pure rebellious heart, she had inscribed her name with a blunt quill on the underside of the table, this was her territory, and now it had her mark to prove. Her fingers slid over the engraving on the underside of the table as she sat down, a ritual action. Assured, she began to unpack her bookbag. Yes, this was the solitude she had been yearning for, she had returned to her paradise and nobody could disturb her here.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" A sharp voice sliced through her dreamy thoughts. Immediately, the smile slid from her face and her eyes darted to the tabletop; someone's books were lying opened there, innocently accusing her of trespassing. The blind indignation and fury that stirred in her stomach was immediately quashed as she raised her eyes to meet the intruder.

She opened her mouth to protest, to beg for forgiveness, to voice her indignation, but nothing came out. Finally conscious of the appearance she was exuding, she closed her mouth and quickly lowered her eyes. Her hands that had paused midway from extracting her quills began to slide them back into her bookbag, neatly alongside the inkbottle.

"I asked you a question Weasley, have you plebeians no manners?" he asked haughtily, looking down his nose at her.

She began to move faster, shoving her books into her bag without grace.

"There's no need for hostility," he drawled faintly, misjudging her lack of response. "I didn't realize this was your table, it doesn't have your name on it."

Oh but it does. Her hands itched to grab his and direct it to her engraved name.

"Well I suppose you'll be leaving then, and good riddance, a Malfoy can't be expected to breathe the same air as someone of your lowly status," he continued, radiating boundless amounts of superiority.

How do you do it with such ease? She desperately wanted to ask. I want to dominate, just like you. She picked up her bag, instinctively hunching her shoulders to form her accustomed slouch.

"You're quite boring, Weasley, did you know?" he offered conversationally as she passed him. "At least that incompetent oaf you call a brother actually tries to put up a fight."

Fight? No, never fight, I only want to rule.

Just before she stepped past the last bookshelf, she chanced a glance back. He sat with his back to the light; watching the evening rays upon his frame, she realized with a start that he had set up his kingdom in that corner. My corner.

She tried to hold on to that flicker of indignation within herself, to find some form of determination that might drive her to reclaim her rights. But hard as it is to kindle damp foliage in the winter, the spark slipped away and melted into emptiness.

Discreetly, she hid herself behind the shelf of Greek Mythology, casting a fleeting look at the dusty volumes. She paused to study the portrait of Mars, God of War; such an intensely extreme being.

Won't you lend me your strength.

As if in answer to her plea, she saw her Divination homework, forgotten on the desktop. A brief flutter in her stomach; an excuse, a chance. Shuffling over toward the table, she stood before him with lowered head and reached for her scroll.

"Back so soon, Weasley? You seem to have an uncanny attachment to this table," he mused. Her hand tightened involuntarily around the scroll, her eyes taking in the position of his hand resting on the table, directly below her mark. And on a spur of indecent daring, she rounded the table and seized his hand - "Weasley! Let go of me this instant!" - and pressed it to the underside of the table.

"My table," she breathed softly, closing her eyes and waiting expectantly to wake from her dream, for surely she could not have done anything with such bravado in real life.

"So it would seem," he replied, amusement heavy in his tone. Determination strengthened by his words, she ventured further.

"My corner." My kingdom.

"And if I wanted to share?" Oh please do. Come. Come pledge your loyalty to my kingdom, population One.

She smiled at him. "You'd have to play nice." And then she giggled, at this sudden boldness that had given her the courage to say such an absurd thing.

I will conquer the world. See? I already rule here, in this corner. Funny that, one couldn't rule with a distinct lack of subjects, and yet, perhaps that was the sole reason she did rule, this one tiny corner of the library in which she was mistress.

"I'm a Malfoy." He smirked. "Although, such a lovely corner, privacy and seclusion."

"Isn't it though?" she breathed her agreement. She allowed herself a moment to reflect on her audacity. Perhaps, she decided, it was time to begin her conquest. Looking over her shoulder, as she drew away from the corner, she threw him smile.

"I will be back to claim my throne," she promised, her eyes shining delightedly. He smirked and made sure she was out of sight before taking up a quill and ducking under the table. Beside the words: Ginny Weasley, etched deep into the wood, he inscribed: Draco Malfoy, in flowing script. He paused thoughtfully, before adding: Population Two.

He would be waiting for her, but for now, he deliberated all the ways of enjoying her reign.