The Brilliant Plan - One Shot

The Brilliant Plan

I hate her. I hate her ginger hair. I hate her freckled face. I hate her snarky remarks and clever comebacks. I hate her confidence. I hate her ability to feel secure in her own skin. She's too smart to be a Weasley. She's too talented to be a Weasley. She's too beautiful to be a Weasley. I despise her. I absolutely despise Ginny Weasley.

In the great hall, a tall, growing 6th year Draco Malfoy watches across the room at the rivaling table of Gryffindor. He stares at the charming, pretty 5th year Ginny Weasley. His eyes slim as he scowls just at the sight of her. Everything she did infuriated him and for no reason. No reason that he knew of, at least. Draco's friend/underling Greg Goyle snorted when he noticed the blonde staring at her again for the third time this week.

"What is your problem with that 5th year? She did nothing to you, mate," he chuckled and Draco scoffed. "You must be joking," Draco retorted, then finished his point, "She beat us in quidditch last week, she set off one of her brother's stupid jelly bombs next to the common room yesterday, she perfectly performed an enchantment in transfiguration when I apparently didn't, need I go on? She is the worst, Goyle!" The large dark haired Slytherin boy couldn't contain his laughter and their third friend, Vince Crabb stifled a giggle behind his closed fist. Draco whipped his head around to him.

"Not you too, Crabb. You two are absolute prats!" Draco snarled. His gaze was captured by the girl again, to his dismay, because the very sight of her just enraged him. She sat at her bench with her elbows casually resting on the long table. She occasionally took a bite of a roll or a scoop of mashed potatoes, keeping the spoon in her mouth to savor the taste. She would giggle and mess around with her friends and it made him feel not only angry, but envy. He wouldn't ever admit it, though. It was difficult enough for him to even admit it to himself. His friends would only laugh at his jokes in fear that Draco would hex them, and he couldn't let himself be so casual. His father expected him to use proper manners at all times. That went for the dinner table, meetings, classes and even in his own bedroom! His father wanted him to be the perfect young boy that Draco just didn't want to be. To be completely honest, all Draco wanted to do was bend the rules occasionally and be as loose and chill as anyone else, especially Ginny Weasley. She didn't have to obey any silly rules from her parents. At least, that is what Draco assumed of her. Ginny could be herself at any time, and she was comfortable with it. Draco felt he had always needed to act as someone else; in front of his father, his mother, Harry Potter, professors and even his "friends". He wished he didn't have to conform to those stupid proper manners but he felt he had no choice. His father is very strict with him. Too strict. There is a role that they both must perform as faithful followers of the Dark Lord, of course. Draco's father is one of Lord Voldemort's most trusted and depended on followers, so Draco must follow in his footsteps. The only issue was, Draco didn't agree with his father's or Voldemort's ideals. Or their rules. But what choice did he have? He couldn't disobey or he'd be killed. Literally. Voldemort had no mercy for treason and he wasn't about to any time soon, not even for a child.

"Can you stop?" A gravelly and raspy, yet feminine voice snapped Draco out of his intense entrance. He looked up at the source of the words: Ginny Weasley. He was so caught off guard that he stammered his reply, "Uhh, wh-what?"

"Can you stop staring at me, idiot?" She repeated and crossed her freckled arms across her chest. He hadn't realized that she stood up and walked over to his table during the entire time he was watching across the room. Greg snickered and Vince grinned amused. Draco scratched his head, deciding whether to comply or to mess with her. He decided to do what he usually did.

"Who said I was staring at you, Weasley? There isn't much to look at anyway," He scoffed and stood from the bench to meet her. His form was about six inches taller than hers, and he peered down at her face. She remained in her confident protective stance. She scowled up at his pale face. His gray eyes met her brown ones and it made him a little uneasy, speaking to a girl who wasn't afraid of him. Ginny scrunched her brows and rolled her eyes.