Musings of a Red Head

Everything looked blurry as I walked down to the quidditch pitch, it might have been because of the wet snow blowing around me in sheets, but my eyes had been seeing like that for weeks.

The whole school had filed out to watch the game against Slytherin and Gryffindor about an hour ago; I had stayed in the library. It wasn't because of a lack of interest in quidditch, I mean I did try out for chaser the year before and I probably knew more about the Chudley Canons than Ron, but I seemed to have acquired a lack of energy lately and in general wasn't in the mood.

An hour had passed and I seemed to be on the same page I had been the hour earlier. Anyone who knew me well, which might I add seemed to be no one at the time, could've made a bet with me that I wouldn't be able to stay in any longer and they would have won. Quidditch matches always got me excited, I was the fan who would be standing up and screaming at the other team for the whole game. I remember my voice being all hoarse after one particularly intense Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game in my fifth year. We won of course.

Games against Slytherin were always the most exciting. Their team was just as good as Gryffindor and seeing them play against each other was never a disappointing experience.

So, when I had seen no one come from the quidditch pitch since the game had begun, my curiosity got the better of me and I found myself wandering alone out to the pitch in the blizzard like weather.

I was soaked right through my threadbare cloak when I arrived at the stadium. I headed up to the Gryffindor side of the pitch and found some of my year mates waving at me through the crowd, I waved back enthusiastically.

After spending about, I guess three weeks completely ignoring my sixth year girlfriends it was amazing how easily they reaccepted me into the group. Sometimes people could completely surprise you at the worst of times.

"Hey," I said, sitting beside Georgia Christenson, she was one of my better friends at the time; she was always a good laugh.

"Scores 150 to 70 for Gryffindor," Georgia informed me. "You've missed one hell of a game so far, what took you so long?"

I shrugged not wanting to explain myself; there really wasn't a good explanation, or just not one I wanted to share. That was the difference between my group and I, I knew almost everything about the other girls, and they seemed to know so little about me.

Georgia and I both turned back to the game, I had to squeeze my eyes close together if I wanted to see anything. The snow was still blowing around us like a raging mad troll, nobody complained though, who would want to miss a quidditch match?

The snow began to clear up about half an hour after I arrived and suddenly the players came into view. I could see Ron way up, close to the Gryffindor goal posts watching the action on the other side of the field; scanning across the pitch I saw the Gryffindor chasers passing the Quaffle near to the Slytherin side, trying to score more points. Gryffindor was playing a great game that day, their passes were clean and I watched as the chasers maneuvered around the Slytherin Keeper and scored. Gryffindor was winning 230 to 70.

I saw Ron yell something up at Harry and following his gaze I could see Malfoy and Harry circling above the action.

Georgia nudged me in the side and whispered, "Why's Malfoy staring at you?" She pointed up at Draco.

"What?" I asked. "Malfoy's not even looking my way."

"Oh yes he is, look again," she said, pointing upwards. I looked up and sure enough Malfoy's cold eyes met mine. Despite the distance between us, I could still tell he wasn't blinking.

Looking into Malfoy's eyes was like having a staring contest with an angry polar bear, though I have never met a polar bear I'm sure that Draco is a fair equivalent. His eyes were dark and unmoving clearly showing anger as if it were an instinct, they were deeply inset and shaded; but, like a polar bear, I remember thinking with amusement, he must have reason for that anger and if you looked farther you could see traces of other emotions.

As I was sitting there in the cold December weather, staring up at Draco Malfoy and hardly moving my eyes, I was suddenly reminded of another time I had looked into Draco's eyes much the same way. I must've completely forgotten about that day back in October when I had run into him twice, because it came as quite a shock when I did remember. All that time ago when Malfoy had looked at me with the same expression on his face as he had now, when he had given me his cloak and sat with me in the prefectsí bathroom. That time seemed ages ago now, back then I had been a different Ginny Weasley, a more innocent one I guess. Now I was more alert more, well, more depressed to tell the truth. I mean before I hadn't really thought about love or lust that much, things like that hadn't really been a big deal to me; but now, now I seemed to be looking for it around every corner and that can really change a person.

So for some reason while I was sitting there I began to think that Malfoy might have feelings for me, I mean why else would he stare at me like he was. This thought had just popped into my head when Draco broke eye-contact and I was brought back into reality.

Harry was diving down low to the ground of the quidditch pitch. The whole crowd was ooing and awing at Harry, but then they noticed that Malfoy was not following. The voices in the stands became louder as people questioned what was happening.

As Harry was pulling out of his dive, a proud grin on his face, the crowd's eyes were focused not on him but on Malfoy who was still high up in the air.

"He must know where the snitch is then," Georgia whispered in my ear, her eyes still focused on Malfoy. "Else he'd have fallen for Harry's Wronski Feint."

I nodded my head, though I wasn't really listening to what she was saying. Malfoy had turned back to face me. His eyes were content on mine again, but this time he was speeding toward me like there was no tomorrow. Georgia gripped onto my arm. I was like a deer caught in one of those muggle cars headlights, I wanted to move but I really couldn't. I remember time feeling like it was in slow motion, I felt my heart begin to speed up. Thump, thump, thump in my chest and my breathing became uneven. I could say that it was because there seemed to be a crazy man speeding towards me on one of the fastest brooms in England, but I don't think that's it. I'm pretty sure that at that point in time my body would have reacted exactly the same way if Draco Malfoy had been walking towards me like he was a snail.

I felt a jolt at the pit of my stomach. He was close enough that I could see his 'trademark' smirk playing across his features; those grey eyes had looked like they were laughing, in a cruel and inhuman way of course. He was two feet away, one foot away; Georgia's grip tightened on my arm. Then, just as it looked like Malfoy was going to crash right into us, he swerved; turning to the right in a smooth curve like he had been planning it all along, which I reminded myself later, he probably had.

The whole crowd gasped as the Slytherin Seeker zoomed along parallel to the stands, they watched as he bent closer to his broom, speeding up. Some of the fans looked ahead and the ones with keen eyes could see a glint of gold near the Ravenclaw stands, Malfoy was headed straight towards it and Harry wasn't even in sight.

Malfoy caught the snitch, losing the game for Slytherin but winning it for himself. It was common knowledge that Draco would take any chance he got to upstage Harry Potter, though to me, Draco didn't look at all proud that day. He looked more like he had accomplished something for himself, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought of him, least of all his teammates.

Since it was a Saturday, the game had started after lunch and it was still light out when it ended at around quarter to four. As we headed out of the stands there was no trace of the blizzard like weather that had plagued us earlier; it was now a cold, but beautiful, sunny winter day.

On our way out of the quidditch pitch I caught a glimpse of Malfoy heading into the Slytherin change room, my cheeks reddened then, as I remembered his bare chest and pink pig boxers. With a sudden burst of boldness I told Georgia that I was going over to visit Hagrid and, not quite sure of my plans yet, I doubled back and headed out around the lake.

Sitting with my back to a tree on the opposite side of the lake I had a perfect view of the quidditch pitch entrance. I was going to wait for Draco, and hopefully get answers to the multitude of questions that seemed to be of a recent appearance in my mind.

It seemed to me like I had been sitting there for ages, though in perspective it couldn't have been more than ten minutes; funny how time goes by slowly when you have nothing to do.

I was cold. It was getting dark and my cloak could be called anything but warm. I curled up and tried to warm myself, not once thinking that I could go back inside; closing my eyes I fell into a half conscious state, the last thing I remember doing was opening my eyes to check if any of the voices I heard belonged to Malfoy.

**

"She must be freezing," I heard someone say, though the voice sounded far away.

"I don't know, Hermione, she looks pretty warm in that new cloak," That was Ron. I could recognize his sarcastic voice from a mile away. Whether that's a good thing or not, I'm still trying to figure out.

"Come on, come and help me wake her up, I don't think its healthy staying out in this weather too long," I recognized Hermione's voice now as she came closer to me.

"Ginny," She nudged me in the shoulder. "Ginny," she repeated, nudging me again.

"I'm awake," I mumbled, opening my eyes. I noticed, rather absent mindedly, that it was dark out. This telling me that I must've been sitting under that 'goddamn tree' (I remember thinking it as) for a couple of hours. I felt Ron's strong arms lift me up under the arm pits. I blinked a couple of times and the two of them came into view. Seeing them standing together arm in arm I thought that they must have been going for a nighttime stroll, my 'nobody cares about me' state of mind prevented me from thinking that they might have been concerned for me.

"You weren't at dinner Ginny, we were worried," Hermione told me as we walked around the lake back to the front entrance. "What were you doing out here all alone?"

"And in some rich boys cloak too," I heard Ron mumble, though I didn't really understand what he was saying in my still sleepy state.

"This is Bill's old cloak, you know that Ron," I replied. I heard Ron's unbelieving scoff, but decided to ignore it.

Once inside the school, I, being extremely tired, went straight to my Gryffindor dormitory. It was only on arriving in my room that I realised the cloak I was wearing was most definitely not Bill's old one. This one was completely black with a silver clasp and silver buttons; it was heavy on my shoulders and now that I was fully awake I could feel the magic emanating from it. There must have been a hundred charms and spells embedded into the thick wooly material. A waterproofing charm and a warming spell for sure, but the others I couldn't identify so easily.

The first person I thought of when looking at the cloak was Draco Malfoy, who else in the school could afford a cloak so rich? The only others I could think of were Slytherins, so I looked all over the exterior for a house crest but couldn't find any. Then I found on the back of the interior a small M stitched in silver. This confirmed my beliefs that the cloak belonged to Malfoy.

But now what to do with it? Did he give it to me so I would seek him out? Was it some kind of trap? Out of frustration I threw the cloak on the floor, it just presented more questions involving Malfoy that I did not want and the only person who could get rid of them was Malfoy himself.

Finally I decided to approach Draco, the next day if possible and get some questions answered. I now seemed to be involved with Malfoy no matter which way I looked at it, so I concluded that it couldn't make much of a difference if I strengthened that involvement, just a little bit; I couldn't think of another way to get myself out of the predicament anyway.

There I was, one week away from the Christmas holidays and laying down for bed, but for the first time in a while with a clear purpose in my mind. I was in a situation I had thought I'd never be in, or better yet, it was a situation that had never even crossed my mind; yet I found myself enjoying the prospect, in fact, I think I was enjoying it a little bit more than I should have.

**

A/N I know I promised D/G action, but what can I do? The story wanted to be written this way. Sorry.