Belle of the Ball

Ginny loved Halloween, and all the fun tricks played throughout the castle. In her third year, she had witnessed a truly spectacular prank by the twins that involved pudding, a banana peel, and Snape's girlish scream. She thought it was even better than their trick on Harry's nasty cousin earlier that summer. In her fourth year, she had put a rapid hair growth tonic and purple dye in a dorm mate's shampoo. Not terribly original but funny.

Now that the twins were gone, she knew it was up to her to carry on the tradition. Unfortunately, she had absolutely zero inspiration. Her fifth year was starting to resemble Hell with all her preparations for O.W.L.S., which her mum wouldn't allow her to forget that she had better receive more than those incorrigible twins or else. She really didn't want to imagine what "or else" had entailed. The woman could be completely terrifying. So with a heavy heart, she dived into studies and out of pranks, silently mourning the lost chance for pranks.

A week from Halloween Hermione reminded her of the ball that Dumbledore had insisted on having this year. He felt the school had needed house unity and a reminder that not all life was grim, with Voldemort publicly exposed. She swore under her breath, hoping her brother's "would be if he wasn't stupid as a rock girlfriend" hadn't heard her. Luck wasn't on her side; she ended up with a speech that lasted ten minutes. Feigning homework, she went up to her room and tried to figure out what to wear. She hated doing these things. Brooms, dirt and kicking Malfoy's arse were all things she understood and liked. Balls went against all her instincts. Of course, she conceded, having been to her first one with lovable but clumsy Neville might have skewed her views.

All week she contemplated what to wear and nothing inspired her. She was starting to think her inspiration directly correlated with the twin's approximate vicinity. That did not bode well for the rest of her school career and carrying on the Weasley tradition, if she made it through the bloody O.W.L.S. Finally, on the day of the ball, she asked Hermione for help. The older girl had decided to go as some Muggle character named Velma. Personally, she thought the look was odd, even for a Muggle, but wisely kept her mouth shut. Unlike Ron, she knew when to stay quiet.

Hermione thought about it until lunch, and gave her a splendid suggestion. She couldn't wait to show the outfit off. Only she needed help in creating it. Transfiguration had never been her strong suit; so Hermione quickly transformed the various items for the costume before heading to her own dorm room to prepare. Ginny hid in the last bathroom stall to prepare. She thought next year she would ask Hermione to use the Head Girl's bathroom. These stalls were practically miniscule, to say the least.

When the clock chimed eight times, Ginny left the tower to head to the Great Hall. Hermione and the boys had left moments earlier, at Ginny's request. She wanted everyone to be surprised, especially a few sixth year boys who thought they had her under lock and key and answered to the names of Ron and Harry.

At the door to the Great Hall, she took a deep breath before striding in. Her hair was now electric blue, a wig made by Hermione. Her outfit was a ripped sleeveless dress that stopped several inches above her knees with a jagged cut between her breasts to give the illusion of cleavage. On her back she wore gossamer fairy wings, with tiny flowers placed sporadically and in that shocking hair was a wreath of out of season daisies. She looked the part of a fairy princess and she had the attitude to pull the part off. Being the only girl in a house of boys made one a princess by default.

Several boys paused as she walked by, as if suddenly noticing the smallest Weasley was indeed a girl. Ron's glares had them clearing their throats and looking away. Ginny just sighed as she met up with him.

"Who are you supposed to be?" she asked her idiot of a brother.

"Peter Pan. You look...indecent. What would Mum say?" He looked the part. Apparently Hermione had helped him as well. Ginny also suspected the outfit had been a bit of a joke, to get back at his lack of observation about concerning the bookworm standing next to him. Hermione's evilness was subtle, but there nonetheless.

"Ronald Weasley. You should talk. You're the one in tights. And Mum won't find out or I'll tell her where you stash your-"

"All right, fine. I won't tell. But you still look completely indecent." Ron would never concede willingly, she knew that. Threats were the best weapon available.

Malfoy chose that moment to walk by. "Why Weasel, you look wonderful in those tights. Brings out the...well, you don't posses a single quality to bring out." Ron's face turned tomato red, before Hermione put her hand on his arm. That had been the non-couple's signal lately; not they needed one, since the two refused to admit to having a relationship.

"Malfoy, what's your costume?" Ginny appraised him. "Your face?" In all actuality, she quickly figured out he was dressed as a Muggle accountant - which reminded her to ask her mum about that cousin - and Parkinson was dressed as a beauty queen. She didn't bother to tell the other girl about the lipstick stuck on her teeth.

"How inventive little weasel." He sneered at her.

"How intimidating." Ginny sneered right back at him.

"Malfoy, take your cow of a girlfriend and leave." Ron pulled against Hermione.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, get a room you too." Pansy rolled her eyes at the two. Secretly Ginny agreed, however she wasn't going to let the Slytherins know that.

"Go powder that pug nose, Parkinson, before the light blinds us all." She loved being vindictive to people that looked down upon her.

"Malfoy, get out of here before I hex you. Better yet, I'll allow Ginny to do the honors. You do remember that, don't you?" Harry's voice chilled the room around. He hadn't forgotten Sirius's death, or the fact Malfoy was directly related to his deceased godfather.

Harry was obviously Count Dracula. She wondered if Hermione had helped everyone in Gryffindor out, then realized of course the other girl had; it was Hermione after all.

Malfoy blanched and took Pansy away. The boy obviously remembered just how much damage the youngest Weasley could cause if she wanted too. The first time had bruised his ego and he didn't fancy a second time in front of the school this time no less.

"Nice outfit, Harry. You have a bit of blood crusting at the corner of your mouth, though." Hermione's outfit was no secret, but she thought the bookworm did fit the part once the whole thing had been pulled together. Ginny chatted a few moments before wandering off to get refreshments. The idea was to mingle so she supposed she would have to do that.

At the refreshment table, which was really just the Gryffindor table turned sideways, she snatched a cookie and headed over to the "sitting area," which was nothing more than the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables thrown together in the shape of an L. The old coot in charge was obviously pushing for unity. Smiling at some fourth years, she took a seat and watched the room. In the corner where she left them, she found the trio whispering back and forth, nothing abnormal there; Ernie and Susan were chatting near the other end of the seating area; Dean and Hannah were exchanging terrible jokes from the look of them; Cho and Luna looked to be squabbling, probably over some creature that Luna insisted existed; and in the corner opposite the trio stood Draco and Pansy, eyeing everyone in room with distain. She wondered the amount of work it took to retain such a superior attitude; then decided that she didn't really care to know. She also noted that most houses still weren't mingling; instead sticking close together. Dumbledore's plan was a dismal failure.

A masked man beside her took the seat next to her, snagging her beautiful wings and causing one to rip slightly. Rounding on him, she was prepared to hex him into oblivion, teachers or not, but stopped when he said a quick spell and repaired the tear. Muttering a thank you, she turned away before getting up. Mingling wasn't sitting down after all. All night, she felt as if she was being watched, and the few times she looked around, she noticed the masked man was always keeping any eye on her. Where was her overprotective brother when she wanted him? Arguing with Hermione, as usual. Sometimes she really thought about locking them in a broom closet until they got over their many issues and finally just snogged. Then she remembered the two in question and let it be. They'd figure it out soon enough; she hoped.

At the tenth chime of the clock, she was ready to call it a night. Her high heels were starting to hurt, and the ball was rather boring. She had danced with several boys from Gryffindor, including Colin who had stepped on her toes at least a dozen times in those two excruciatingly long dances, and was ready to go back to being boring Ginny. At least that Ginny could wear shoes that didn't cause permanent damage. With her goodbyes to the trio, she made her way to the stairs to get to the tower. Before she could ascend them however, she was whirled into a dark corner by the masked man. Curious, she allowed herself to be pulled against the stranger.

"Who are you?" Curiosity repeatedly killed the cat, or so her mother had told her endlessly. She thought her mother was just tired after six boys when it came time to raise her. She couldn't really blame the woman though; she had been raised with said boys, she understood.

"It doesn't matter." He trailed his finger along her cheek. She shivered at the contact.

"Yes, it does. You can see my face, but I can't see yours." She swatted at the hand that had found its way perilously close to her arse. She didn't mind really, but she didn't want him to know that.

"And it's such a lovely one. This hair," he flicked the wig, "does nothing to enhance it however. The red is much more suited for you." She could hear the smile in his voice, and was sure if the blasted mask hadn't been in the way, she would have seen it.

Scowling at the obvious male amusement of attempting to lower his hand again, she sidestepped him, trying to go up to the tower. Playing hard to get was a game she had perfected with Michael. Her movement was hindered when she realized that between her shifting, he had seized one of her hands into his own.

"Give me back my hand." He turned the palm up and kissed the inside before realizing it. With that, he walked away, leaving her dumbfounded as to why he had even followed her. Making her way to the Fat Lady, she muttered "swords and daggers" to gain admittance, and then up to her dorms. After taking her costume and wig off and donning her rattiest nightgown, she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning at breakfast, she heard several girls - mostly Pavarti and Lavender - whispering about the mysterious masked man that hadn't taken his eyes off her. Ron sat twitching beside her, belatedly having taken on the overprotective role, while Hermione had her nose in Hogwarts, A History. Harry seemed interested in the gossip, which weirded the redheaded waif out just a smidgen. He would finally take an interest in her when she no longer cared much for him and hadn't since the beginning of last year.

As the owl posts flew in, she expected to once again to be without packages or notes; when one landed on top of her bacon, she was more than a little surprised. Handing the bird a piece of the bacon, she untied the note attached. Once the owl left, she opened the letter, hiding it from the curious stares of those around here. Everyone knew she rarely received actual mail, other than Howlers from her mum, leading everyone to stare.

Inside the note was written neatly and said,

For three years I've watched you and waited until I could catch away from Potter and his sidekicks. I really don't fancy being attacked by your brothers, either. So when you finally were alone last night, I couldn't resist.

Last night you asked me who I was. I wouldn't say then, because the game would have been over and I do love games. So, now I'll say that the rose at the bottom of the page reveals my house. Figure out who I am, and your mystery is solved.

The aforementioned rose was decorated in silver and green, revealing the man was a Slytherin. She racked her brain as to which Slytherin male she hadn't seen. Malfoy had been with Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle near Malfoy's side as always, Nott had been chatting with Greengrass, and the rest she couldn't name. Perturbed that the mystery hadn't been solved, she glanced at the Slytherin table and noticed a lanky, dark-haired male staring back at her. His gray eyes looked straight into her brown ones, and she shivered.

Zabini. That was the one she hadn't seen all night. His smirk confirmed what her body already knew and anticipated. The mystery had been solved. Raising an eyebrow, she returned the smirk at him.

Ginny did so love Halloween. Whether trick or treat, surprises did appear at the strangest times for her.