Archenemy

Monday Morning: Passing Notes in Transfiguration

Ginny was fairly shocked to learn she had an archenemy. Somebody - she had no idea who - had written in bold scrawl across the worn cover of her Potions book: "The end, Weasley. Soon."

Harry had an archenemy. Ron, one could even argue, had an archenemy. Dumbledore, great wizard that he was, probably had scores of archenemies over the years. But... Ginny Weasley somehow acquiring an archenemy was hard to fathom. She was sweet. She was biddable. She was reserved and unassum--

A note slipped onto her desk and Ginny chanced a glance at Brandy before unfolding it as quietly as possible.

Surely you're not serious about 'sweet' and 'biddable.' Ha! Ginny, love, I adore you, but you are clearly insane. And moody.

Ginny ignored Brandy's taunts and pulled out a quill.

I suppose, she wrote back, that this means I'm some sort of heroine? Do you think I have to go prancing around, saving the day, like Harry?

Brandy arched an eyebrow over at her after she read the note, and then quickly scribbled a response. When McGonagall turned to face the board, she shoved it across the aisle to Ginny.

Anyone could have defaced your Potions book. You're not exactly loved in that class, especially after what happened with Nick.

Ginny scowled. Honestly, they had only gone out for a week. It wasn't as if she'd broken the stupid wanker's heart! She'd done him a favor, for Merlin's sake. She said as much in her note back to Brandy.

Brandy's snort of disbelief caught the notice of several other sixth-year Gryffindors, but both girls smiled sweetly and turned their attention back to the front of the classroom. After a few moments, Brandy passed another note to Ginny, this time sliding it across the floor with her foot.

A quill drop later and Ginny smoothed out the wrinkled parchment over her Advanced Transfiguration notes.

You humiliated him in the Great Hall! Not that I think he didn't deserve it, the git, but still... you told him quite loudly that his attentions were no longer wanted.

Attentions, my arse, Ginny thought to herself. The small scrap of paper was nearly full so she tore a new piece out of her notebook.

It was much more than his 'attentions,' Brandy. Bugger couldn't keep his hands to himself. I was eating, for Merlin's sake - and getting very close to puking all over him. But then I suppose you're right. He could very well be my archenemy. Although I don't think he'd be a very fun one. What would he do? Grope me to death?

You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes right now. How can an archenemy be fun? This person, vengeful ex or not, is threatening you.

Well, it wasn't as if the message said they would kill me. "The end" could mean any number of things. Perhaps they're just celebrating the impending end of the term and wished to share their joy with me.

An anonymous note celebrating the end of term? Seemed a bit more ominous to me than that. However, I still think the archenemy idea is a stretch. You do realize that to have an archenemy you have to be perceived as a threat yourself?

Weren't you the one who called me moody?

Being moody is hardly the basis of a hero/villain relationship. You're going to have to come up with something better than that.

Well, what would you call this mystery person, then? I have my doubts that they're thinking fuzzy-bunny thoughts about me. Death threats equal archenemies; it's simple math. I'm really starting to warm up to the idea, though. Intrigue! Adventure!

You know, you wouldn't be half this excited about it if you really thought someone was going to kill you. I know you too well. But, since it makes you so happy and since you are so clearly a crazy person, as I've stated before, I will admit that there is a chance you have yourself an archenemy.

Ginny glanced up from Brandy's last note and shot her a smug smile. She folded up the note and shoved it into the front of her Transfiguration book. Ginny Weasley had an archenemy; and damned if she wasn't tickled pink about it.

* * *

Monday Afternoon: Contemplation Through Lunch

In the Great Hall, she found herself staring at the back of Nick's head. Was he her archenemy? Ginny sighed. If he was, she was entirely to blame. Brandy had been right. He may be a horrible Hufflepuff prat, but she hadn't chosen the best way to express her feelings about it. Then again, it wasn't exactly her fault that she'd rather have his nimble fingers slicing her mandrake root than running up her thigh... in full view of the whole hall.

Ginny, despite having little aptitude for the subject, was a Potions groupie. She loved the smells, the acidic taste they left on her tongue. She loved the vials and bottles of every different shape, size and color. She loved the cork stoppers, and the way the blue-black from the squid ink bled into the grain; the way the gooey eel pulp stuck to the bottoms of them. She loved the feel of wolfsbane and even simple rosemary pinched between her fingers. She loved the murmur and hiss of bubbles popping in a scalding hot cauldron. And, above everything, she loved the men who stood over them, protective smocks and all. She couldn't seem to help herself.

Once the glow of fancy faded, however, she dropped them like a hot pumpkin pasty. It was nearly Christmas and she'd already dated every single boy in her class, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor alike.

And so went Nick the way of Potions boyfriends past. It was quite sad, really. Ginny wasn't in anyway proud of her behavior. She had a weakness. A horrible, horrible weakness that at times even had her daydreaming about Professor Snape. Snape!

She shook her head and looked down at her nearly full plate. Normally she had an appetite to match Ron's, but now what little bit she'd managed to swallow settled in her stomach like a large, uncomfortable rock. She really had to get her act together.

* * *

Monday Night: An End-of-the-day Chat

Ginny, in one of her more brilliant moments, had charmed a couple of make-up compacts to transmit voices. Gryffindors, she had found, were unfortunately highly nosy and Ginny hated having the other sixth-year girls in her dorm listen in on her nightly end-of-the-day chats with Brandy.

She yawned and gave a sleepy goodnight to her dorm mates before pulling her drapes tightly closed around the bed, automatically casting a Silencing Charm. "So," Ginny said, after flipping open the small oval compact.

"So... Colin?" Brandy's voice, crackling slightly, boomed out of the device, continuing the conversation they had been having in the common room about possible archenemies.

"Colin? Colin Creevey?"

"Definitely Colin. He sits behind me in Arithmancy, throwing trash in my hair. Pure evil."

"But Colin? I mean, look at him. He can't even pick up a quill without groaning under the weight of it."

"He could be an evil super genius. You know, like Wile E. Coyote."

Ginny groaned. Brandy, Muggle-born and proud of it, had spent nearly their entire second year trying to convince Ginny of the 'greatness,' as she had termed it, of Muggle cartoons. "Bran, besides the fact that Wile E. Coyote was always being outsmarted by a bird - and is a cartoon character - there is no way Colin Creevey is a super genius. Did you see what he got on the last Potions quiz?"

"Potions lessons aren't everything," she said, exasperation evident in her voice.

"Spoken like a true Snape-hater," Ginny said somewhat bitterly, since she secretly felt Snape was completely underestimated by the student population. "But that still proves he's not a super genius, right?"

"I suppose. But still..." She paused. "Padma Patil?"

"A girl?"

"So, why can't a girl be your archenemy? She's got the hair for it."

"Well... you're right," Ginny conceded. "I just never thought of it."

"I would suggest Parvati, of course," Brandy continued, "since you know she is still so jealous of you shagging Finch-Fletchley, but I'm sure we can pretty much discount all the Gryffindors."

"Colin's a Gryffindor," Ginny pointed out.

"Barely," Brandy sniffed. "You know, we're overlooking the most-likely candidate here."

"Who? And if you dare say--"

"Malfoy."

Ginny scowled up at the canopy. "If it's Malfoy I will seriously beat him with my shoe. He's Ron's archenemy. I'm not sharing."

"Well, it's not like you get to choose your archenemy. They choose you."

"I'd rather be groped to death by Nick."

"As I said, you don't have a choice in the matter. And, 'ew.' I'd take Malfoy over Nick any day."

"I have absolutely no interest in either of them," Ginny said loftily.

"We're not talking about interest, Gin. We're talking about archenemies, remember?"

Ginny paused. "Oh. Right."

Brandy laughed. "The blonde or the brunette?"

"Well," Ginny said, feeling her face turn bright red despite having no one around to witness it. "I've already had the brunette, haven't I?" she joked.

"We definitely need sleep, Gin. We're giggling over Draco Malfoy: torturer of young Gryffindors extraordinaire!"

"You brought him up."

"Not the same thing. I think he'd make an interesting archenemy. You think he'd make a good bedmate."

"I said nothing of the sort!" Ginny huffed indignantly.

"I can practically hear your lascivious thoughts, Gin."

"All I said," Ginny tried to explain over Brandy's giggles, "is that I'd rather not share an archenemy with my brother. I had no lascivious thoughts at all."

"You had dirty thoughts about Malfoy," Brandy mocked in a singsong voice, ignoring her protests.

Ginny gave in and started laughing. "All this is besides the point anyway," she said, finally catching her breath. "I refuse to believe he could be my archenemy. And now I'm going to try and get some sleep since Snape is making me do an insane amount of Potions work in the morning."

Brandy laughed harder. "You know you love it."

Ginny sighed. "Unfortunately, I do."

* * *

Tuesday Morning: Extra Credit

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little Weasley."

Ginny glanced up from her cauldron and narrowed her eyes at the silver haired Slytherin leaning negligently against the table next to hers, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Malfoy," she said, then turned her attention back to her potion. Thoughts about Malfoy were one thing; she'd never actually wished for his presence.

"Getting in a little extra credit?" he asked in obvious amusement.

She ignored him and continued setting up her workspace, watching him out of the corner of her eye. The bastard just stood there, smiling sardonically at her. What Brandy had said held true: if Ron hadn't already claimed him as an archenemy, Malfoy would have been at the top of her list. But, she sighed slightly, she had to admit he didn't seem evil towards her; at least he was never as malicious to her as he was to Ron - just obnoxious and rude. And he was possibly the most annoying person she'd ever met, despite having gorgeous gray eyes.

Of course, she had stopped taking anything he said to heart years ago, and ignoring him seemed to have been working. Until now. He still stood there, looking handsome as all get out, and it was clear that ignoring him wasn't going to make him leave any time soon.

She sighed again and looked up at him. "Can I help you with something, Malfoy?"

His smirk widened. "Actually, I believe I can help you."

"Ha!" she jeered, crossing her arms to match his, her arched eyebrow daring him to continue.

"Advanced Potions, Weasley," he said.

"Advanced Potions?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head slowly and straightening up. "Advanced Potions." He moved towards her, crowding her against the desk.

Refusing to retreat, she tipped her head up to meet his gaze. "What does Advanced Potions have to do with you helping me?"

"I happen to be taking Advanced Potions. You happen to be failing Remedial--"

"I am not in Remedial Potions, nor am I failing. I'm just a little behind."

He reached around her and toyed absently with a bottle of crushed snake fangs. "Alright, so you're not failing Remedial Potions," he conceded, "You are, however - according to Snape - miserably close to failing."

Ginny unfolded her arms. "Fine, so I get that I am apparently rubbish at Potions and that you fairly glow with knowledge," she snapped. "What I don't get is why you would want to help me."

"Ah, I see your eyes are narrowed in suspicion, as they should be." He placed the small vial back on her table. "Let's just say Dumbledore believes I need to improve my student relations and Snape has agreed to endorse me as a tutor. If," he added as he plucked her Potions notes from the desk, "I can help you get at least an average passing mark."

She placed her hands on her hips, disturbed and not a little wary of his self-satisfied grin. "Doesn't sound like much of a trade off, Malfoy. Honestly, If I didn't know better I'd think you actually wanted to tutor me. I mean, I know how much you loathe co-mingling with humans and all--"

"You," he said, still smirking, not raising to her bait, "are a challenge." He stepped back to lean against the other desk again. "Your grades have been steadily getting lower, and," he paused for what could only be described as dramatic effect, "you have a tendency to scare off your Potions partners... and most people in general."

"I do not scare off my Potions partners," she scowled at him.

"No? Then why won't anyone work with you? Admit it, you scare the crap out of them."

"Them? What them? Are you telling me I'm a frightening person? That everyone in this school is scared of me?" She scoffed in disbelief. Tall, she may be, but she was hardly an imposing figure.

"Them - as in the male student population," he elaborated, eyes flashing. "Particularly, it seems, the ones in your Potions class. You chew them up and spit them out. You eat their hearts for breakfast every morning. In fact, I think half the girls in your class are worried you'll start in on them next. That, Weasley, is why no one wants to be your partner."

Ginny choked back a laugh, thinking the whole situation was absurdly funny. And although she knew he was greatly exaggerating everything, it was true that no one had volunteered, eagerly or otherwise, to be her partner in Potions after the Nick fiasco. "And I suppose you're not afraid?"

He held up his hand and ticked off a finger. "For one thing, I'm not in your Potions class--"

"I could still attack you when you shrug on a smock to help me," she interjected.

Malfoy shook his head and continued. "Secondly," he said, eyeing her up and down, leering slightly, "there isn't anything you could do to me, that I wouldn't do to you."

* * *

Tuesday Morning: Skipping History of Magic

"He said what?" Brandy exclaimed in a shocked whisper. They were hiding behind the Quidditch shed, crouched down between two bushes, deftly avoiding their least favorite lesson.

"You heard me," Ginny rasped back, coughing lightly from Brandy's cigarette smoke. "He said that I couldn't do anything to him, that he wouldn't do to me. It's the 'wouldn't' part that floored me. Not that he could do it, but that he would."

Brandy's eyes were wide. "That's the only part that scares you?"

"Hang on, I didn't say any of it scared me. Well, maybe he's a bit intimidating. He said it all sinister, like he actually wanted..." Ginny shook her head. "But he all but told me everyone else is intimidated by me. Me, Bran. I'm not scary, am I?" When her friend didn't immediately answer, Ginny nudged her with an elbow. "Am I?"

"Well..." Brandy drew out, leaning back against the wooden slots, "maybe just a little."

"Brandy!"

Brandy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Gin, you can be a bit frightening at times."

Ginny slumped over, dropping her head into her hands. "Am I some sort of ogre? Am I hideous?"

"No, not at all," Brandy said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "If I were a boy, I'd be all over you. Really."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. And now this conversation is getting widely off track and slightly ridiculous." She pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "The problem is that you're not fond of a lot of people. And when people get on your bad side... well... they know it."

Ginny scowled at her. "You're saying I'm mean."

Brandy grimaced. "Yes. I'm sorry, love, but you can be. Look on the bright side, though." She gave her a lopsided smile. "It keeps away the rabble."

"I suppose..." Ginny pouted.

"And you can't let that sexy Malfoy get to you."

"But... do you think he meant it?"

"Well, it was more of a warning, right?" She asked, taking one last puff and then gathering up her books.

"Yes. A warning. Warning me off... what exactly? I'm sort of losing track of the whole thing."

"Just try and be nice to him," Brandy offered. "Maybe that'll help."

Ginny snorted. "Malfoy and I, nice to each other?"

"Just try it. Come on," she said, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her to her feet. "It's almost time for Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh joy, more fun with the Hufflepuffs."

* * *

Tuesday Afternoon: Common Room Conversation

"Go away, Ron," Ginny said, "This is girl talk."

"But--"

"Away!" Ginny frowned, waving him off. Really, he should know better. She and Brandy had long ago staked a claim on the far left corner of the Gryffindor common room and no one, but no one, disturbed them when they had their heads bent together in fierce conversation.

Ron clenched his jaw, red migrating inward from his ears. "Ginny," he said through his teeth. "You've got an owl." He thrust the missive at her and swiftly stalked away.

Ginny looked sheepishly down at the note. "Well, now I feel a bit guilty," she said.

"Don't," Brandy said, munching on a chocolate frog. "What's it say?"

Ginny tore open the note and gasped. "It's from him! My archenemy!"

"Or her, Gin. Let's not be gender biased," Brandy admonished.

"Oh rubbish. It's much more fun if it's a boy." Ginny quickly scanned the note. "You know," she said thoughtfully, lowering the small square of parchment to her lap. "I think I might know who it is."

Brandy leaned forward and whispered, "Who?"

"Zabini," Ginny smiled.

"Blaise or Hock?" Brandy asked, using their pet name for the third-year Zabini brother who had, amazingly, ended up in Hufflepuff.

"Really, Brandy, you have to ask? Like Michael would know the first thing about being an archenemy," Ginny said softly, her affection for the young Zabini clear in her tone.

"So you think his brother would?"

"He's been giving me the evil eye all day. I'd think it was creepy if he didn't have that adorable dimple in his chin." Ginny bit her lip. "All right so maybe it isn't Zabini."

"You still haven't told me what the note said," Brandy said, motioning towards the parchment.

Ginny scrunched up her brow and glanced at the paper again. "I'm not exactly sure," she said slowly, "but it sounds like he's challenging me to a duel."

* * *

Tuesday Evening: Contemplation Through Potions Tutoring

Dead at dawn or not at all: Astronomy Tower. The words of the short note ran continuously through Ginny's head. What the bloody hell did it mean? The 'dead' part didn't particularly scare her, because she was inclined to think the 'not at all' cancelled that out. And if she had a choice in the matter, which the 'or' part seemed to suggest, she'd simply take the 'not at all.' So, really, when it came right down to it, she had nothing to be worried about. Probably.

"Weasley, pay attention," Malfoy snapped. "You're cutting the mandrake too thick." He pushed her aside and grabbed the knife.

He had rather nice hands. Strong and elegant, his movements fluid as he effortlessly sliced the knotty mandrake root and gently smoothed... Oh God, she thought, slightly horrified, I'm getting turned on by Malfoy's hands! Not that it was entirely surprising considering he was male, wearing a smock and currently standing in the Potions dungeons. She had just thought that maybe - just once - she would be able to control herself and her odd obsession.

"Weasley?" Malfoy dipped his head down and glanced into her face. "Why, exactly, are you staring at my hands?"

She took a step back and pressed her palms together. "Wasn't staring," she denied.

He smirked over at her. "Yes. You were."

"Was I?" she waved her hand in dismissal. "So sorry; must have a degenerative brain disorder."

"I'm sure you do," he said dryly. "Now," he continued, "to the potion at hand…"

He should really tie his hair back, Ginny thought, watching as a few silver strands fell over his eyes. She fought the urge to reach out and push them back behind his ear. She really, really didn't want to tumble into another Potions related romance again. If she could just hold out, hold on, for another hour or so, they'd be out of the classroom and the shiny and highly polished cauldron glow - that never failed to cloud her eyes with passion - would dissipate. And any attraction to Malfoy would fade blissfully away. Without, she hoped, Malfoy ever knowing about it.

Not that it would truly matter, considering she could quite possibly be dead in the morning, killed by her archenemy. Dead at dawn. They were not particularly happy words, with happy thoughts behind them.

"You realize, Weasley," Malfoy ground out, interrupting her musings, "that tutoring actually requires you to listen to me teach."

"Of course I know that," she said, her voice low and soft. Oh Merlin, was that my seductive voice? She watched his eyes narrow and drop to focus on her mouth. Yes. Yes, I believe it was. She took a nervous step away from him and cleared her throat. "Erm, yes, I've been paying attention to you the whole time." She nodded her head vigorously.

"Have you?" he asked, leaning a hip against the desk.

The torchlight flickered over his face, ruthlessly cutting across his already sharp features. He had folded the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows and she could see the bunch and flex of muscles in his bare forearms as he casually gathered up a few leafs of parchment. And the smock -- good God the smock! It seemed to fit obscenely snug over his broad chest. Yes, she had been paying extremely close attention to him.

He raised a slim eyebrow. "Weasley?"

Ginny bit back a distressed groan and picked up her Potions book and papers. "It's late, Malfoy," she said, shoving some loose parchment into her book.

He glanced at his watch. "Barely eight."

"Um, yes. Things to see, people to do." She paused at the threshold. "Scratch that. Reverse it," she said, and then slipped through the door with a sigh, pretending not to hear Malfoy chuckling as she left.

* * *

Tuesday Night: An End-of-the-day Chat

Ginny snuggled down into her blankets and opened the small compact. "You awake?" she asked Brandy.

Brandy yawned loudly. "For now. You were gone for a while."

"Took a long walk," Ginny sighed.

"Contemplating your impending doom?"

"No. I've decided not to worry about it. I honestly can't think anyone would want to kill me," she rolled over onto her side. "Had a little... problem, you could say, with Malfoy," she admitted.

"Ah. Attack of the cauldron glow again?"

"Yes," she muttered. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you, love. You just need to get out more."

"Out where? The Quidditch pitch?" Ginny snorted. "Not many places to go when you live at school."

"There's Hogsmeade, Gin. And, you know, any other part of the castle outside of the Potions classroom," Brandy said. "It's not like you haven't had a relationship apart from Potions class before."

"Yeah? Name one."

"Well, Finch-Fletchley--"

"Had detention together. Potions dungeons."

Brandy harrumphed. "Lee Jord--"

"Helped me with my Potions homework at the request of George."

"Flint?"

Ginny sniffed indignantly. "Entirely a rumor and you know it."

"Fine, I give up. At least," she pointed out, "none of them have ever rejected you."

"And that's a bright and shiny silver lining," Ginny returned sarcastically. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You know," she said absently, her mind returning to the ever-present thoughts about her archenemy, "the only person who really and truly hates me, I think, is Snape."

"Snape? But you adore Snape," Brandy said incredulously.

"Well, of course. He alphabetizes his Potions supply closet! How could I not?"

"I'd laugh," Brandy said, "but I know all too well that you're completely serious."

"Completely," Ginny agreed. "But don't you see? I'm hopeless. I can't focus during lessons. I'm usually a ball of nervous energy the whole time." She sat up and scooted back to rest against the headboard. "I spilled a bottle of scarab beetles the other day… Four times! I've even heard him mutter that I'm more absentminded than Neville. Yet," she continued, "I absolutely refuse to give up. I've taken Potions every single term. Unlike you," she added with disapproval.

"I hate Potions."

"I know, Bran, but I still love you. You see my point, though, right? Snape must want me to just leave him alone."

"So..." Brandy drew out. "Let me get this straight. You think Professor Snape is your archenemy?"

"It's entirely possible."

There was a long pause. Finally, Brandy said, "You're having another one of your Snape fantasies, aren't you, Gin?"

"It's entirely possible."

* * *

Wednesday Morning: Happenings at the Astronomy Tower

"You!" Ginny cried, dropping unceremoniously to the ground to tug off her boot.

"What are you doing?"

Ginny glared up at Malfoy. "What does it look like? I'm taking off my shoe. Damn it, I can't believe this. I don't want to share!" She pulled on her laces, perfectly aware that she was knotting them in her haste. She cursed in frustration and scrambled to her feet. "Alright, so I won't use my boot." She pushed up her sleeves and stalked over to him, clenching her hands into fists.

Malfoy eyed her warily. "Mind explaining what's going on, Weasley?"

"What's going on," she snapped, "is that you are not supposed to be here."

"I'm not?" he asked, catching her wrist and glowering down at her. "Who was the note for, then? Zabini?"

Ginny blinked. "Zabini?"

"Yes, Zabini. I see the way he looks at you."

"You do?" Ginny asked, confused and not exactly following the conversation. His eyes were flashing with anger, the tops of his cheeks slightly flushed. She glanced down at his hand wrapped around hers, narrow and lean and strong and... good Merlin, his hands are turning me on again. Outside the Potions classroom and completely smock free. She shook her head, trying to clear it. "What does Zabini have to do with this? You're the one who had to show up as my bloody archenemy!"

Malfoy's hand tightened on her wrist. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," he said through clenched teeth.

"You... you don't?"

"No fucking clue."

She frowned up at him. "Then why are you here?"

He released her and ran his hands through his hair. "Damn it, you sent me a note!"

"I didn't!" she shouted, pressing a palm to her chest. "I was supposed to meet my archenemy."

With an exasperated oath he turned and moved over to an open window, resting his hands on the ledge. She watched him as he took a deep breath, then pivoted and stalked back to her, his face shuttered and foreboding. Stopping a scant foot from her, he grasped her upper arms. "How do you know I'm not you're archenemy?"

"You're not," she said breathlessly, bringing her palms up to brace herself on his chest. "But that was very impressive."

He gave her a wolfish grin, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Are you sure?"

"You didn't send me the notes, did you? Besides, you're already Ron's archenemy and I told you, I'm not willing to share."

"Want your own, do you?" he asked, his face so close to hers she could smell his breath.

"Chocolate," she whispered.

He started and pulled back a bit. "What?"

She leaned unconsciously towards him. "You've been eating chocolate." She licked her lips. "Yum."

His gaze narrowed and darkened with intent. "Was that an invitation, Weasley?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Ginny curled her fingers into his black jumper. "Never thought you were one for asking permission, Malfoy."

"I'm not," he retorted sharply, lowering his lips to cover hers in a decidedly hungry kiss.

She sighed, sliding her hands up his chest and locking them behind his neck, sinking into his warmth, opening her mouth under his. She couldn't remember a kiss she had ever wanted so much; a kiss entirely void of Potions related fantasies and daydreams. And it didn't matter in the least that it was Malfoy who was doing this; Malfoy who was slipping his hands under the hem of her oxford. Nothing mattered but the kiss.

But before she could lose herself in him completely, Malfoy jerked his head back, his arms tightening around her. "There's a damn owl on my head," he said. Rather calmly, too, she thought, for having an owl perched on his head.

The small golden bird hooted happily and held out its leg. Ginny reached up and untied the parchment, seeing her name in an elaborate scrawl she knew so well. "It's for me," she said, a tad surprised. She unfolded the letter and bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Now I hope you didn't do anything rash, love, like try to beat Malfoy with your shoe (You really should learn to control that odd temper of yours). By now you should realize that he had absolutely nothing at all to do with this and that I, Brandy MacGreggor, am your very own archenemy and matchmaker extraordinaire! Really, Gin, you needed to get out of your Potions rut; it wasn't healthy at all.

I know you so much better than you know yourself. And so, being the ever so generous and clever friend that I am (dare I say 'super genius?'), I've given you a dash of danger, intrigue, mystery and, of course, let us not forget, the sexy Draco Malfoy served to you on a platter. Use him well.

Happy Birthday, Darling.

Love,
B.

Ginny burst out laughing. And Brandy called her crazy.

"What is it?"

Ginny looked up at him through her eyelashes and handed him the note. Happy Birthday, indeed! She hadn't even realized what day it was. Trying to get a handle on herself, she took a few deep breaths.

Malfoy held the note in front of him, one eyebrow arched as he looked down at her. "It's really your Birthday?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes," she said, grinning. Thank Merlin he seemed to find all this as funny as she did. There was no telling, really, with a Malfoy. "And apparently," she added, mirth bubbling over, "you're my present."

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

She reached up, placed her palms on his cheeks, and slowly brought his face down to hers. Lips nearly touching, she whispered, "You know, Draco, you really don't have to go along with this. Brandy's a bit... overzealous."

Draco nodded, his nose brushing hers lightly. "Perfectly aware of that fact," he said, then closed the scant distance between their mouths.

In an extremely brief moment of clarity, Ginny considered dropping Potions for him, but she just as quickly dismissed the idea.

Snape, she suspected, would miss her too much.