Title: Too Sexy
Ship: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Name/Pen Name: Bella/Goddess_of_ether
Word Count: 1,140
Theme #/Theme: 1/Muggle Confusion
Challenge Count: 1/7 finished

~

He looked confused.

As the nondescript Hogwarts owl dropped its load into his breakfast plate he raised a single eloquent eyebrow before plucking at the brown wrapping and twine with elegant fingers. A few glances at what the package contained had him furrowing said eloquent appendages.

Trying hard not to let her mirth spill over into revealing guffaws of laughter, Ginny Weasley put her knuckles against her lips and choked on her pumpkin juice. “Gin?” asked Hermione Granger worriedly, tilting her head forward so the tips of her hair were in danger of falling into the jar of marmalade next to her toast. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” mumbled Ginny around a mouthful of juice. She risked a glance at the Slytherin table, just visible between the hefty shoulders of her two other dining companions. The strange quirk of eyebrows as he looked at the object sitting in his porridge bowl, combined with the fact that his nose had most definitely wiggled a moment earlier, made her lose her concentration.

The laughter bubbled out of her stomach up her throat, meeting the pumpkin juice halfway up. The two warred for a moment as Ginny turned an interesting shade of purple and saw splotches of light in the edges of her vision. “Ginny!” shrieked Hermione, bordering on hysterical, and the Muggleborn witch thumped her companion on the back twice.

The brunette’s concerned cry had attracted the attention of a few disgruntled Ravenclaws and a certain irked Slytherin who narrowed his eyes in the general direction of the youngest Weasley. He watched as she almost suffocated, and realization struck him with all the heft of Crabbe’s right hook. Of course the source of the strange package was the Weaslette.

The brother of said redhead looked up morosely from his porridge. “Alright?” he mumbled, not even bothering to insert a subject-verb pattern into his request. His grammatically-concerned best friend was worried enough about his sister being able to breathe that she forgot to correct him.

“Oh she’s just peachy, Ronald,” sniffed Hermione, giving Ginny a final thump on the back. “After all, it’s perfectly normal for your sister to suffocate at the breakfast table.” She gave Ron a nasty look, and the fourth member of their breakfast quartet sighed into his dry toast, but did not intervene on the behalf of his friend.

Ginny, who was slowly recovering from her near-brush with asphyxiation, looked up and caught the heavy gaze of a certain slate-eyed Slytherin. Her throat began closing up again, and she sprung up from her sleep, muttering about a jumble of excuses, not the least of which included the need to clean her hair.

She was halfway to Gryffindor Tower when he cornered her by a tapestry of Mageret the Bulbous-Nosed. Well, it wasn’t exactly cornering, per se. More aptly, Ginny was rushing by Mageret’s alcove in a surreptitious half-shuffle, making sure he couldn’t ambush her from behind, when a pale forearm corded with lean muscle shot out and yanked her off her feet.

“What the hell are you playing at, Weasley?”

He hissed his demand into her ear, securing her frame against his in the shaded alcove. Mageret sniffled haughtily behind them, but this was the extent of her intervention. Ginny attempted to squirm out of his grip, but she was light enough that he could easily lift and hold her off her feet . . . which he proceeded to do.

“Lemme go!” she hissed right back, not really wanting to have to explain to any wandering prefects why she and her supposed mortal enemy were struggling in a secluded alcove that was a close second to the Astronomy Tower in terms of visitation of amorous couples.

“Only if you tell me what the hell you’re doing.” His arm tightened around her midsection, but he lowered her feet to the stone floor. “Goddammit, Weasley, we’re supposed to hate each other. I don’t know what universe you’re from, but generally people who despise one another don’t exchange bloody packages.”

Ginny grinned, and although he couldn’t see her face, her voice tasted of amusement. “I’m not completely useless, you know,” she said conversationally, leaning back against him. The arm around her waist altered slightly from constraining to comfortable as she continued. “Growing up with the twins has taught me a trick or two. I know how to send anonymous packages.”

“There’s clever-clever and then there’s daft-clever, love,” he muttered murderously, but she knew that he wasn’t angry with her; he was angry at their circumstances.

“Luckily for you, I’m clever-clever,” she replied brightly, and before he realized her intentions, she had slipped out of his arms and turned to face him. The scattered light from the corridor light her hair on fire but shadowed her face. “What did you think?”

“Of what?” he asked, frowning. “The lump of metal that ball of feathers dumped in my breakfast?”

“It plays music,” said Ginny, and he caught a glint of light off her cheekbone as she smiled. “When we get down to Hogsmeade today, I’ll show you how to play it. Dad is positively enthralled with it. There are these things called ‘CDs’, and Muggles are bloody obsessed with them . . .”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ginny later reflected that she and Draco had a nasty habit of meeting in dark alcoves. Their current haunt, a partially hidden alley a far distance from the general stomping grounds of the Hogwarts populace, while spacious, was still dark and morose.

“Alright,” said Draco, pulling out the circular, lumpy device from the pocket of his leather overcoat. “Show me how this bloody thing works.” Despite her lengthy explanation and watching her fingers carefully, he was still startled when music began to sound, somewhat muffled, from the two soft circles connected by a half-moon of plastic.

“Here,” said Ginny, momentarily stopping the music. She brushed his hair away from his ears so she could help him secure the stupid ‘headphone’ buggers. Seemed just like a Muggle sort of appliance, all but unintelligible directions with little visible merit. He unconsciously sneered at the ‘compact disc player’ as Ginny drew her fingernail down the side of his ear.

That was his only warning for the noise that exploded into his eardrums. He gave a little half-jump, and momentarily thought, so this is what Muggles call music (sneer), before he listened to the lyrics.

“I heard this and thought of you,” Ginny had said.

I’m too sexy for my love too sexy for my love
Love’s going to leave me
I’m too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts
And I’m too sexy for Milan too sexy for Milan
New York and Japan
And I’m too sexy for your party
Too sexy for your party
No way I’m disco dancing . . .

~

Oh come on, you all think of Draco when you hear that song. Admit it.

Nicely done. I'm not usually a fan of this ship, but this was an enjoyable and humouros read. Liked the character interactions.

Some of the descriptive parts were a bit overdone and cluttered for my taste.

Easily 4 stars!!!

This was a really good fic. It was amuzing to no end. You are right that song really does fit him.

I couldn't finish it, it was way too overdone. Too many adjectives and too many descriptions, it was just too...TOO.

Sorry for being harsh, but it felt so cliched and over-the-top.

I have to say, I utterly agree. There seemed to be no. . .personality within this writing - it was all a bit stoical and dispassionate. Perhaps trying to be less textbook in your writing would help?

Nice general plot though; definitely a good song just for aloof!Draco. =]]

*snerk* that was awesome! I do think of Draco whenever I hear that song! 4 stars!

I liked it, though I find the actual plot kind of implausible, but it was cute anyway.

I really liked it. I liked the way you used the descriptive words. It might've been a little bit, but I like to see writing like that. Nice job. Draco..hahaha..too sexy.