HarryPotter Ships

Drinny

If his father taught him nothing, he taught him that Weasley's were not supposed to be attractive. However, he doubted Lucius had seen Ginny Weasley recently.

Draco watched her throw her head back and laugh at something the Scarred Git said and amended his last thought. There was no way his father had ever seen Ginny Weasley. At least not really seen her – not the way Draco was seeing her now. Of course, that might not be an entirely bad thing. The thought of sharing an attraction with his father was too much to bear.

His point was (and he did have one) was that red hair and freckles were not pretty. Brown eyes were plain, not shiny and full of life. Except… they were. On her at least.

Ginny Weasley wasn't attractive in the way that was generally accepted as attractive. She wasn't rail thin like the girls of Slytherin (except Millicent), nor did she show off her body with tight clothing (like Hannah Abbott), or prance around for the whole world to see (for some reason, Pansy was coming to mind). Ginny was more round, but in a healthy way. Her body was well toned, most likely from running after the Golden Trio.

Not to mention Quidditch. The redhead had gladly handed the Seeker position back to Potter at the beginning of sixth year, opting instead to play as a Chaser. The girl was fierce on a broom. Draco was lost as to why she hadn't played before. She was talented and made good, quick decisions in the air.

Draco knew Quidditch wasn't her only exercise. He'd seen her more than once jogging along the lake at dusk. Occasionally Potter would join her and sometimes the Weasel King, but mostly she went by herself. The Malfoy was certain she trained more than he knew – her body was excellent. Even if he hated to admit it to himself.

"I see your watching your favorite Gryff tonight."

The blond closed his eyes, determined to not let Zabini goad him. "What do you want?"

The black-haired boy shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing. Just trying to see what you see." Blaise tilted his head to the side. "I guess she's hot…if you like red hair and freckles."

"I don't see anything," Draco insisted. "Really, Zabini, what are you talking about?"

"You think no one notices?" The other boy shot his eyes towards Draco. "I see you, Malfoy. In the halls, during meals, at night when you watch her running. And Quidditch – you shouldn't be allowed to play Quidditch. You're bloody horrible against Gryffindor."

"I am not."

"You are," Blaise insisted. Draco was now looking anywhere but Ginny Weasley, so he took a moment to study her. "She's wasted on him, you know. It's not like he'll ever open his eyes and see what's standing right there."

The blond made a sound in the back of his throat, but choose not to comment. "Shouldn't you be off shagging your latest acquisition in a dark corner? Isn't that how you like it, Zabini?"

"I didn't know you paid so much attention, Draco. Jealous?"

"Of you?" Draco scoffed. "In your dreams." No matter how much he knew he should, Draco couldn't take his eyes from Ginny for very long. She was a vision in her dark green robes. Did she have to dress in Slytherin colours?

"Why don't you just go over there?" the dark haired boy suggested. His gaze followed his housemate's once again. "Ask her to dance, take her some punch, do something. Anything is better than you standing here, looking like a sod."