[B]Rating (up to PG-13 only): PG-13
Any warnings to readers (e.g. slash, other ships)? No.
Alternate Location (URL), if any: None.
Word count for this installment: 468
Running Total no. of words for entire story (5,000 or less): unknown.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. I just play with them.
Author’s Note: My very first venture into fan fiction. Be nice.
Summary: AU. Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy. Sometimes they get along.
Literati
Draco Malfoy leaves notes in the margins of her books. Hastily scrawled reminders of assignments that need doing. Notes on symbolism and foreshadowing. He comments on an outfit she wore, marks a passage he particularly likes, and constantly compares the novel’s protagonist to people they know.
Ginny didn’t know what to make of it at first. She was confused, and the more she stared at his tidy handwriting the more her mind began to hurt.
Now though, the writing is familiar. She searches out his script when she picks up her worn paperbacks, looking for neat block letters in tidy rows. All capitals and perfect punctuation. The hidden messages with double meanings are comforting. Especially after a bad day.
Ginny’s wedged into the corner of the Weasley’s overstuffed couch, a navy blue pillow placed on her lap. The familiar sound of turning pages reaches her ears, and she smiles at the first note. It’s jammed into the left-hand corner. Black ink on yellowed paper.
You left this in my bedroom. I’m assuming you want it noted. You owe me, you Weasel. A movie this Friday. Your treat.—D.M.
Ginny wiggles in her seat, getting comfortable as she delves into Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. Her family pays her no mind as she pores over the novel, laughing and sighing when she reads Draco’s notes.
_¥_
Draco Malfoy had never said a word to Ginny until she almost run him over with her parent’s station wagon. She hadn’t meant to do it on purpose.
All she knew about Draco at that point in time was that he was the same age as her brother Ron, and for some unknown reason they didn’t get along. That was certainly no reason for her to wish an untimely death on him.
To be fair, Ginny was a bit distracted when she nearly ran Draco over. Seeing as the station wagon was quite old, it only played cassettes. Ginny had been fumbling about in her knapsack, trying to locate a mix tape Colin had made her, when the first words Draco had ever spoken to her met her ears.
“Are you bloody insane? Watch where you’re going.”
Surprised, Ginny had slammed on the brakes and then promptly burst in to tears.
“I’m sorry,” she’d blubbered. Draco merely glared. Ginny let out a rather large sob.
“If you want to make it up to me,” Draco had said, “you can give me a lift home.”
Ginny agreed, and soon found herself in close proximity to the blonde boy her brother and his friends constantly complained about.
The ride to Draco’s house was awkward. Ginny tripped over her words, talked in sentence fragments, and hiccupped every few minutes. Draco was cool and composed, talking only when Ginny asked a question.
Neither could have possibly imagined they’d become friends.
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This isn't complete. It's just an idea I've got floating about in my head, but I don't know if I'll continue it.