Out in the courtyard (open to everyone)
The day was bright and shining and all seemed to go well so far. Ginny had just come from another busy day of classes and could now be found sitting on one of the stone benches out in the courtyard
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He paused, leaning against one of the surrounding stone pillars and glancing out onto the grass. Today was one of those days where he should be making trouble, flirting with girls, or (should he dare say it?) doing his homework. But, none-the-less, he pushed off from the warm support and continued forward.
Coming up with a splendid idea, Draco was about to head back inside when he noticed one of Potter's brats sitting on one of the benches. Alone. Smirking, he couldn't help but tilt his nose into the air as he strutted toward her.
Pausing nonchalantly, he tucked his hands into his pockets, looking down at the red-head rather easily. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the little Weaselette. Don't you know it's potentially dangerous out here?" He leaned forward slightly, as if he were sharing a secret. "There's a war going on, you know. Without the Wonder Boy, you could end up hurt. Or--even better--dead." He straightened, his lips tilting into a vicious smirk while his head cocked to one side. "Where are your guards, after all? Did they finally decide that you weren't worthy of their company?"
At that last remark, he couldn't help but free a slight chuckle, glancing toward the castle for any sign of approaching students. Why, if the teachers didn't have him under such surveillance, he could kill her now and be done with it. But, Merlin forbid he do a thing like that. If he were caught, the Dark Lord would have his head for sure. His hand instinctively went to the chain around his neck, drawing the object forward and coursing his thumb across the locket. "Honestly. They're not real friends if they leave you out here to rot. But, decompose for all I care. One less of your kind in the world, Blood Traitor." He snarled just before turning on his heel and striding back toward the castle's entrance, his eyes drifting this way and that to make sure no one had spied on him.
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He chuckled and paused for a moment as if thinking of that last statement he had said about her. She followed his hands carefully as he thumbed through a small chain around his neck.
"Honestly. They're not real friends if they leave you out here to rot. But, decompose for all I care. One less of your kind in the world, Blood Traitor."
she heard him say before he began to turn on his heel.
Ginny would have just kept quiet and let the little ferret die of his own scum or she would have just cast the bat-bogey hex on him but this time was different. She was old enough to speak for herself and she knew she was brave enough to have a row with the likes of Malfoy, whom apparantley also had none of his twittering sidekicks following him around.
"Well, I suppose that statement also applies to you, Malfoy." she said to him as he began to stride off. "I don't see any of your blundering tails you call friends." she stared at him, with one eyebrow raised and a cocky little smile on her face. "Where are your guards? Did they decide that you were no longer worthy of their company?"
She knew how to get anybody's attention and she was completely certaint that she had gotten his. "And who are you to tell me what real friends are? because I don't really think you have any, Malfoy... You know, for a little ferret like you, you're one to talk."
She said to him, surprisingly calmly and was mentally preparing herself for anything she expected him to do or say.
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The words felt familiar to the horcrux though logically they shouldn't have. There was something off about this particular child, a residual type of magic that led to uncertainty but no matter. The horcrux could shrug that off easily enough.
She's nothing. Less than nothing are the fallen Purebloods. She violates the species, dragging her pro-Mudblood rhetoric into your world. Ugly little ginger kid, isn't she? If you wait until she throws the first curse, you'll be completely justified in cursing her right back. And she doesn't know what lurks in your mind or the many curses you know. She thinks of you as weak, as ignorant in the ways of magic. That you aren't as good as your elders and thus, you're easy enough to shove down. But we know better, don't we? She is nothing to you.
The idea of a victim, of the suffering, of the potential screams she would let out was bliss to the horcrux and his words were rushed in Draco's head, so much so was his eagerness to begin.
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She still couldn't believe how the school had accepted him back after what he tried to do last year. She was disgusted that he still managed to show great pride after that sickening attempt at murder. To think, she had once thought that he still had hope, that someone kind still lurked inside, that he actually deserved a second chance but she thought wrong. His heart was as cold as can be, and it seemed as though no single drop of joy was left in him.
She decided to wait until he spoke and chose not to mix curses and hexes with him. Unlike Harry, she could manage to restrain herself and she did a very good job of it, as well.
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Draco Malfoy spun right back around, with a grace he was born with. Before the small red-head knew what hit her, he'd taken hold of the hair at the nape of her neck. When he tugged her head back, it was anything but nice. "You bloody watch your tongue when you're talking to me, Weasley. My father has too much influence in the ministry. A dear parent of yours may end up unemployed. And what would you do then?" One more sharp tug on her hair, and he pushed her away, that devious smirk tilting his lips. "I'd watch my back if I were you, Weasel."
Shoving his hands back into his pockets, his fingers twisted easily around the wand within those shadowed depths. All it will take is one simple utter of something that sounds like a curse, and the Weaselette will be flat on her back and begging--that sounds a little off track, doesn't it?--to have the curse lifted. He chuckled to himself, lifting his free arm to run his fingers through his hair.
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The horcrux was practically livid with sadistic glee. He could feel the pain Draco was already causing and could nearly taste the pain the boy could cause if only he just applied a bit more pressure.
Look at her eyes. Do you see fear there? Fear gives you power. It makes sure she's no longer a threat to you. Wouldn't it be nice if you made her bow to you? That's what you deserve. For the nasty bloodtraitor to get on her knees and bow to you and your superiority. She is worthless, Draco. You are so much better than her and still she prances around, spouting off to you as though she had the right. You should show her true power, Draco. Make her beg. Make her plead. Make her cry.
He yearned for the boy's fingers to snap the girl's neck, to press down into the jugular to do something to cause those green eyes to widen in fear, in terror.
How he had missed such feelings.
But Draco had already let go and the desire ebbed away before the horcrux could bathe in it fully. Better to strike now when she's without her entourage. To show her that she's nothing compared to you. If you hurt her enough, deeply enough, she'll never tell anyone.
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She heard the rumors of that night Dumbledore had died, not to mention Harry's own horrible account of the events but what shocked her the most was that it was Draco who had attempted to kill their dear headmaster.
But even though her hatred for Draco had increased even more, something in her told her that there would still be a chance to maybe turn him around. She knew too , though, that that would need more than a miracle.
She paused before she completely disappeared through the castle's entrance to take a look behind her. She opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it.
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"Also . . . Last year really wasn't that big of a deal. If you had heard the story correctly, it was Snape that killed off the old bat. Perhaps you should take some time to look further into things before attempting to accuse. Or does thickness run hand-in-hand with being poor?" He sneered, striding right passed the red-head, his shoulder colliding with hers to knock her to the side.
"If you ever speak of my father in a disrespectful way, I'll see to it that you live to suffer through the death of your entire family." At that, he chuckled, continuing his way down the hall. Why wouldn't that wretched witch curse him? He was itching for a duel . . . Even if a Weasley wasn't a worthy opponent.
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