This story was written for rowan-greenleaf in The DG Forum's Fic Exchange – Winter 2015. It won the award for Best Kiss, which was honestly kind of a surprise. Still, not going to complain.

For those of you who have read this before, be prepared for quite a lot of new additions (and, by that, I mean chapters). For those who are new to the story, I hope you enjoy. :)

Ginny kept her head low, wind whistling in her ears. The rain was pounding on her back, her face, blurring her vision. Colours were beginning to blur into one, making it difficult to discern who was on what team. She gritted her teeth, keeping the Quaffle tucked under her arm. Suddenly, a black ball came rushing for her face. A quick breath, a tug on her broom, and then she was spiralling through the air, just missing the Bludger, and then righting herself all before she had exhaled. The crowd roared in her ears, mixed in with the howling of the wind.

"Look at Weasley go!" the commentator's voice echoed around the stadium. "It's like nothing can stop this girl!"

Ginny's mouth curved into a smug smile. Damn straight. Not for nothing was she the star player of the Hogwarts inter-school team.

"Got your back, Weasley!" Ritchie Coot shouted in encouragement, then used his cudgel to send the other Bludger that had been tailing her whizzing off in another direction.

She put on a burst of speed, dipping and then looping right over the row of opposing Chasers. A second later the Quaffle was soaring through the middle hoop and the spectators wearing the Hogwarts' uniform were cheering and stamping their feet. Ginny shared a hi-five with Demelza Robins, her fellow Chaser, and then took her position to resume the game. Unfortunately, her elation didn't last long. The rain started getting heavier, making it even harder to see. She noticed that a lot of the bleaches were empty now with only a few diehard fans still watching the game. Most of the spectators had cast rain shield charms over themselves, so it looked like the stadium was filled with giant bubble people.

"Why don't they call a timeout already?" Zacharias Smith muttered not far from Ginny. "I can't see jack in this rain."

"Focus on the game!" she snapped. "We need another forty points if we want to qualify for the championship finals. Even if Malfoy catches the Snitch right now, we'll be outranked without those points."

He glowered at her but didn't argue.

That was when the crowd suddenly let out a loud, unified gasp. Distracted, Ginny turned just in time to see a bedraggled figure in black flying hot on the heels of another person clad in red.

"No!"

She glanced at the score board. It was too soon. They still needed forty more points.

CRACK!

Draco suddenly swerved off course, clutching at his left arm where a Bludger had struck. Just like that it was over. The Japanese Seeker was waving his fist in the air, clutching the tiny golden ball that was still weakly fluttering its wings. A horn blew, signalling the end of the match. The visitors from Mahoutokoro School of Magic cheered wildly and rushed to bombard their team, who were all hugging each other and babbling in Japanese. For Ginny, it just seemed like some horrible dream from which she couldn't wake.

"We lost," she said in a dazed voice. "We actually lost."

Zacharias made a disgusted sound. "I'm going to have a shower. There's no point sticking around here."

Ginny glared at him, but he was already descending for the changing rooms. She turned her head and spotted the rest of her miserable looking team gathering on the pitch to shake hands with the Mahoutokoro players, as was custom. Draco Malfoy was being attended to by the stand-by healer. Sighing, she flew down to join her team. Time to play the humble loser.

oOo

Endymion was not happy. The Ravenclaw teen had been their captain for two months now (perhaps McGonagall had thought the logically driven boy would have a calming influence on the team), but right now he just looked annoyed. Very annoyed. His curly black hair was sticking up all over the place, as if he had run his hands through the damp strands too many times. There was also an angry flush staining his otherwise handsome face. It would have been entertaining had Ginny not recognised that these were the warning signs of a captain's tirade.

"What the hell was that, Smith?" Endymion demanded, looking a little alarming considering he was still holding his Beater's bat. "Do you know how rude you made us look when you left the pitch like that?"

Zacharias opened his mouth to retort, but Endymion was on a roll. He didn't care if Zacharias was descended from Helga Hufflepuff, the Queen of England, or a bloody celestial being that farted rainbows and lived in a house made of gold. Such behaviour was intolerable, and they did not need some selfish, ill-mannered prick ruining their reputation in front of Mahoutokoro. On and on the lecture went, with most of the other team members exchanging awkward or amused glances. Ritchie Coot was leaning on his broom with a glazed-eyed expression, while Draco Malfoy was—

Wait, why was Draco Malfoy staring at her?

Ginny had to take a double-glance to make sure she wasn't imagining things. The blond sat with enviable grace for someone who was drenched head to foot and wearing bulky Quidditch gear. One of his elbows rested on his knee and he had his chin propped on his palm. His blond hair fell in damp strands around his face and was beginning to curl at the tips, which should have made him look cute and boyish except it didn't. His features were too angular and sharp for such mundane descriptions. Draco Malfoy was a boy on the cusp of manhood, and his face made that clear in every chiselled edge. She hated to admit it, but he was kind of beautiful in a harsh way, like a blade that you had to be careful holding. No wonder people had a hard time trusting him. Heck, even his eyes were like steel: cool and appraising.

And, yes, he was definitely staring at her.

Ginny raised her chin at the blond. His eyebrow quirked slightly, though she wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. A challenge? Amusement? Mockery? Stupid Malfoys and their stupid, indecipherable Eyebrow Language.

She folded her arms and averted her face. Let him stare at her if he wanted. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of returning the attention. Git. Fortunately, Endymion chose that moment to finish his 'Zacharias Smith is a Twat' rant. After thoroughly ripping the Hufflepuff's character to shreds, he finished by saying that Zacharias would be on the bench for the rest of the season. No buts.

"I don't care if you are the best Chaser Hufflepuff has," Endymion continued. "Pull another stunt like that and you're off the team."

Zacharias's normally haughty expression had long ago turned sour, but now it looked as if he had just been forced to swallow a dozen lemons. Ginny wanted to laugh (served the prick right), but then Endymion rounded on her. Apparently, she hadn't been passing the Quaffle enough to the other Chasers.

"You can't always be the star," he said bluntly. "We could have scored more points if you weren't hogging the ball all the time."

Ginny blinked. "Wait a minute—"

Endymion ignored her. "And you—" he said, turning to face Draco Malfoy. "What happened out there? You were supposed to be keeping Ichiko away from the Snitch."

Draco's eyebrow lifted a fraction. "Oh, I don't know, Inglebee. I kind of got distracted when a Bludger broke my arm."

There was an awkward pause as everyone stared at the captain, who was still holding his Beater's bat. Ritchie Coot tried to hide himself behind Demelza, which was hilarious in itself since she was only five foot tall.

Endymion's cheeks went a bit pink. "I'm sorry you got hurt. The rain made it hard to see the Bludgers."

Draco's voice remained cool. "Exactly. Everyone made mistakes."

So stop running us down as if we're entirely to blame for this loss and start acting like a real captain.

The unspoken words were loud and clear. Ginny was reluctantly impressed. Draco had always been a bit of a wild card when it came to their team: the token Slytherin, as Ritchie liked to call him. He was arrogant, judgemental, and self-centred. Still, every now and then he'd come out with a comment that made her realise he had matured a lot since the war had ended. At the very least, she now viewed him as a conceited git rather than just an evil git.

Endymion shifted on his feet. "Uh, right. Well, I guess we'll just leave it at that."

The curly-haired boy declared the meeting closed. In an unspoken agreement, the team went off their separate ways: the males heading to the room on the left while Ginny and Demelza got the female showers all to themselves. The two girls chatted about the match as they washed, complaining about the weather and how much they hated Zacharias Smith.

"I'm glad he's been placed as a reserve," Demelza said, lathering her body with soap. "I can't stand the guy."

"Me either," Ginny agreed.

She'd lost count of the number of times she had hexed him just to get him to shut his stupid mouth. Once, she'd even dive bombed him when he had commentated a Quidditch match and wouldn't stop picking on the Gryffindor team.

"I suppose Cadwallader will replace him," Demelza said without enthusiasm.

"Probably," Ginny said, turning off the shower and wringing the water out of her hair.

She could understand Demelza's lack of excitement. Graham Cadwallader was a nice enough guy, but he was by no means a looker. His personality was also about as interesting as a plank of wood. Unfortunately, after Zacharias, he was the next best Chaser that Hogwarts could boast.

Demelza reached for the shampoo. "Well, either way, I'm glad Malfoy managed to calm Endymion down. I thought he was going to start on me next." She shuddered theatrically. "I hate it when he yells."

Ginny made a humming sound of agreement.

The little brunette frowned. "Are you even listening to me?"

Ginny blinked. "What?"

Demelza just sighed. "Never mind."

The redhead just shrugged and dried herself with her towel, then rummaged through her stuff for fresh clothes. That was when she realised she had left her bag out in the locker room. All she had was her gross, sweaty Quidditch gear.

"Bollocks," she cursed.

She didn't even have her wand to summon the stuff. Sighing in resignation, Ginny wrapped her towel firmly around her body and then sprinted into the locker room straight for her locker. Speed was of the essence here; a grab and dash, as it were. Unfortunately, the locker room was already occupied—and she had just collided with a boy's chest.

Warm hands gripped her arms, stabilising her so that she didn't slip backwards. Ginny sucked in a sharp breath and raised her head to meet a pair of steely grey eyes. Bollocks. Of course, it had to be him.

"Thanks," she muttered, lowering her gaze and trying desperately not to blush. If only the ground would just swallow her whole.

Draco released her arms, though she could still feel the imprint of his touch on her skin as if his hands had been charged with little jolts of electricity. "You should watch where you're going next time."

Her cheeks blossomed with pink. "Excuse me?"

The blond exhaled in a bored sort of way. "It's called using your eyes, Weasley. You know, those two things in that thick skull of yours that let you see?"

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. "I know what eyes are, you idiot."

"Then try using them. You'll be doing everyone a favour."

Her breasts rose and fell as she took an angry breath. "You—you're so—ugh! I was in a hurry, okay? I'm sorry if I banged into your precious self, but I had other things on my mind."

"I gathered that." He examined her from head to toe, and she felt her blush spreading in splotchy pink down her chest. "Speaking of which, do you often make a habit of prancing around in a towel?"

"I was not prancing," she retorted, raising her chin. "Besides, if you really must know, I accidently left my bag in here with my change of clothes. You were not supposed to be in here."

"Whatever," Draco said dismissively. "It's not like there's much to see anyway."

Ginny's blush darkened. She opened and closed her mouth a few times in a futile attempt to create words, but her frustration was as effective as a Silencio charm. In the end, all she could do was glare at his retreating figure.

"Insufferable git," she muttered.

Her chest was not flat. Sure, she wasn't sporting bouncy mangos like Daphne Greengrass, but her breasts were perfectly adequate for a girl of her size, thank you very much. Still, it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious. She frowned down at the soft mounds covered by her towel, suddenly second-guessing herself.

"Oh, whatever!" she snapped. "I don't care if Draco Malfoy thinks my boobs are small."

With these words, she snatched up her bag and headed back into the female changing room. All boys—especially pointy-faced, blond ones—could go to hell.

oOo

Time was dragging. Ginny sat with her face half-squashed against her palm, suppressing yawns at every odd moment. Muggle Studies was so boring. Her father might find the subject fascinating, but she couldn't care less about learning how Muggles moved large objects, communicated, or lived their day-to-day lives without magic. Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic did not agree. Once the war had ended, those who had come back to Hogwarts had discovered that Muggle Studies was now compulsory for anyone from a pureblood or non-Muggle influenced family. Apparently, it was supposed to foster understanding so wizards and witches could bridge the barriers between magic and non-magic folk … or something like that.

She glanced to her left and saw that Ritchie Coot was wearing his usual glazed-eyed expression. He obviously wasn't sold by the Ministry's plan to educate the masses in how not to be bigoted either. The only time he ever looked animated was during meal times or when he was on the pitch.

Typical Quidditch-mad boy.

On Ginny's right, Luna was furiously scribbling notes. That was different … until the redhead actually read the words written on the parchment:

The Blithering Bumblemont tends to accumulate in classrooms, snatching productive thoughts and motivation from its victims. There are many in Muggle Studies today. This is the perfect opportunity to study the fluffy creatures; I just need to find a student to act as my case study—

Ginny repressed a snort and glanced away from Luna's notes. Definitely nothing to do with cranes and telephones.

She knew where her gaze wanted to go next. It had been happening ever since she had caught Draco Malfoy staring at her during the after-match meeting earlier that day, like an itch that was difficult to resist scratching. It wasn't that she liked him. There was just a paranoid, frustrated part of her that needed to make sure he wasn't still staring at her—especially after their awkward encounter in the locker room. Call it a thirst for closure. Either way, she had to know.

Ah, just a peek can't hurt.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder to the third desk behind her where she knew the blond would be sitting. His head was bent over his book, quill moving in fine, steady strokes. Right. Well—well, that was good that he was paying attention to his work. It wasn't like she wanted him to look at her anyway.

She folded her arms across her chest and, quite unconsciously, began tapping her foot against the ground. Luna leaned over and asked her if she was hangry.

"What?" Ginny said, blinking in confusion.

"You know, hangry: hungry and angry," the blonde explained in her dreamy voice. "You just seemed upset, and I notice it's usually because you're hungry."

Ginny scowled. "I'm not hungry."

"I am," Ritchie interposed, rubbing a hand over his stomach. "I'm so hungry that even Professor Trentham's hair looks like a big, fluffy marshmallow."

The two girls frowned as they glanced from the Gryffindor boy to the elderly lady lecturing at the front of the classroom. She was so forgetful and dotty that most of the students had fondly named her Binns 2.0, which Ginny thought was a bit unfair. At least in Binns' classroom you could fall asleep and he wouldn't even notice. Trentham might be losing her marbles, but she still expected a certain level of respect and attention from her students.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "I don't know," she said seriously, "I think her hair looks like a tea cosy."

Ginny just pinched the bridge of her nose. This is what her life had come to: discussing whether her teacher's hair was an edible substance or something to keep a teapot warm. Suddenly, a folded piece of paper landed on her desk. She frowned and glanced around, but no one was looking at her. With a shrug, she unfolded the note and read the chicken-scratch script:

I notice you like riding broomsticks. I've got a length of hard wood for you in my dorm if you wanna take a spin. ;)

Circle -Yes or No

Ginny's cheeks flushed. "Terry!"

She'd know that scribbly writing anywhere—especially since he was so pedantic that he had to have perfect grammar even when he was trying to be someone else. As she expected, the Ravenclaw boy burst out laughing and hi-fived his neighbour. Those little gits. Before Ginny could even realise what was happening, the juvenile note was being taken out of her grasp by a wrinkled hand.

"Something to share, Miss Wathly?" Professor Trentham asked, frowning down through her spectacles at the redhead.

Ginny's eyes bugged wide. For the first time, she didn't bother to correct her name. "Um, professor, I don't think you want to rea—"

Too late.

The professor read the note aloud in her reedy voice, ignoring the giggles from the other students. Ginny noticed that Draco Malfoy wasn't laughing, but he was looking at her again with those steely, intense eyes of his. She didn't know why that made a flicker of satisfaction curl in her stomach.

Gods, maybe I do love to be the centre of attention.

A frown wrinkled Professor Trentham's already crevassed face. "Please save Quidditch talk for the pitch, Miss Wathly. This is not the place for discussions of broomsticks or for you to be passing notes."

More giggles and snorts. Ginny bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. Poor Professor Trentham. If only she knew the innuendo behind the broomstick talk. Thankfully, the professor dropped the matter and instead began splitting them into pairs for a practical. Apparently, they were going to make toast with a toaster to understand how electricity works. Goodie.

Ginny rested her chin on her hand as she waited for her partner to be assigned. A chair scraped loudly against the floor somewhere next to her, and she turned to see Terry Boot take the free seat.

"So, was that a yes or no to the broom ride?" he asked in a voice that would have been utterly deadpan had she not noticed the teasing glint in his eyes.

"You are such a prick!" she hissed, hitting him on the arm.

He smiled charmingly. "Admit it. You found it funny."

"It was not funny. You got me in trouble!"

"Sureee. That's why you're trying not to smile."

Ginny covered a hand over her mouth, which was indeed twitching into the beginnings of a grin. Damn it all.

Terry leaned closer. "Actually, it was Anthony's idea to write the note. I think he fancies you. Probably is hoping for a private broom ride."

They both sniggered, even as something clattered loudly behind them. Ginny turned to see Draco Malfoy cursing under his breath and picking up the metal contraption that he had just knocked over. It struck her as unlike him to be clumsy, but before she could ponder the matter further, Terry was speaking again.

"Wish that guy hadn't come back to Hogwarts," he muttered.

Ginny glanced around the room, wondering who had caught her friend's ire. "Who?"

"Malfoy."

Some of the amusement faded in her eyes. She chanced a peek over her shoulder at the table where Draco and Luna were working. Oops. He was staring back at her. Awkward.

Terry pursed his lips in a sour expression, quite oblivious to Ginny's Look Away contest with the Slytherin. "Still can't believe they let him in after everything he and his family had done, let alone put him on the inter-school Quidditch team. That guy is bad news. Should have put him in Azkaban with all the rest of those Death Eater scum."

Ginny's fingers curled to form a fist. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, everyone knows that his family were supporters of You-Know-Who." Terry waved his hand in an irritated gesture. "Their manor was practically the Death Eaters' headquarters during the war. I bet he sat there torturing people side-by-side with his daddy Death Eater and crazy aunt."

Her knuckles burned white. She didn't want to get angry at Terry. He had been the one to revive Dumbledore's Army last year when the Death Eaters had taken over the school. He had also been punished for it by the Carrows, sick and twisted as they were. She knew the Ravenclaw boy was still bitter and carried a lot of resentment, but Draco wasn't like those other people who had supported Voldemort during the war. She had seen the transformation—seen how the blond had matured and just wanted to focus on getting his qualifications and moving on with his life.

That was why people like Terry and Draco were still here, after all. Technically, their last year at Hogwarts had been during the time that Snape had been headmaster. However, so many of the Seventh Years had been removed from school or else just got so caught up in the war that it had seemed only fair to give those students another opportunity to complete their NEWTS. On top of that, the board had also introduced the inter-school Quidditch cup. Ginny wasn't sure if the Ministry were just trying to create a nice distraction or if it was an attempt to forge ties with other schools so as to avoid another Death Eater uprising. Either way, the best Quidditch Players from each House were handpicked to form the official Hogwarts Quidditch team, and she and Draco had been two of the main seven chosen.

Thinking about it now, Ginny had to wonder if she would have half as much tolerance for the blond had she not been forced to get to know him more during practice. Not that it really mattered now. He wasn't her friend—not even her frenemy—but even if he was a bona fide snob and had called her flat-chested, he was still her team mate. That counted for something. Either way, she definitely wasn't going to put up with this nonsense.

"Look, Terry," she said bluntly, "I get you're still caught up in that 'all Slytherins are evil' mentality, but you're just going to have to get over it. Draco is a student here, just like everyone else. More than that, he's also my team mate and the best damn Seeker this school has now that Harry has left." She meet Terry's gaze squarely. "So if you wanna say bad stuff about him, then you're going to have to deal with me!"

Another clatter. Ginny continued to star at Terry, daring him to argue. He didn't.

She picked up the instruction sheet on her desk. "Alright, enough chitchat. Let's make some damn toast."

oOo

Ginny readjusted her bag strap so that it sat more comfortably on her shoulder. Leaving Muggle Studies had felt like being released from some hundred year imprisonment—and not just because it was the last class for the day. She had never felt so relieved to get away from Terry Boot, which was kind of sad since they had become good friends over the past year and a half. Still, friend or not, she hated hearing people take a dig at her team mates (unless that person was Zacharias Smith, in which case she couldn't give two figs). Draco was different, though. Hardly any of his friends had come back for the make-up year, and—

A hand suddenly latched around her wrist, pulling her irresistibly away from the staircase. She made a muffled noise of surprise and just caught a glimpse of a white-button down shirt and tie—clearly male—before she was shoved into an alcove behind an ugly tapestry. Her breath came short and fast. She reached for her wand, hexes rising to the tip of her tongue, only to pause as she found herself meeting a pair of steely grey eyes.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" she demanded. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Draco's expression remained unreadable. She kept waiting for him to speak and explain why he had been trying to play 'Scare the Weasley' on the staircase, but he just kept staring as if he was trying to get inside her head. Honestly, it was a bit creepy.

"Uhh, okay," she said slowly. "Well, this awkward silence has been great, but I'm going to go now."

She turned to leave.

"Wait."

Ginny placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, you're speaking to me now?"

Draco's jaw tightened. "I want to know why you stood up for me."

A faint tinge of colour bloomed on her cheeks. "You were listening?"

"Bit hard not to when your voice is so loud," he said with a shrug that would have made ballerinas weep. A freaking shrug.

Ginny's blush darkened. She wanted to tell him that her conversation with Terry had been private and he shouldn't have been eavesdropping (because her voice wasn't that loud, damn it), but another part of her just felt small and vulnerable, like she had been caught in her towel all over again. He wasn't supposed to have heard her sticking up for him. Oh gods, he definitely wasn't supposed to have heard her call him the best Seeker the school could boast.

Yip, ground swallowing her whole right now would be awesome.

Draco stepped closer, invading her personal space. Her back brushed against the cold stone of the wall and she felt her breath catch. Suddenly his hands were on either side of her face, boxing her in. She could smell his cologne: woodsy and mysterious and cool at the same time, daring her to get closer. Seriously, why did he have to smell so good? This was not helping her to live up to her 'Be the Immovable Rock' mantra.

Ginny swallowed and tilted her head to meet his gaze. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

"You still haven't answered my question," Draco reminded her.

His voice was deep velvet sliding across her skin, like an invisible caress. She was suddenly aware of her heart thudding against her ribs.

"I—" she began croakily, then swallowed and tried again. "It was nothing. We're team mates, that's all. I stick up for my team mates."

Draco stared at her intently. He was so close that she could see that his irises weren't just cool steel: there were also storm clouds and tiny flecks of blue, as if every mood of the sky was captured in his eyes. She wondered if it was a reflection of his own mercurial personality.

"Hm," was all Draco said, stepping back so that he was no longer crowding her space. She realised that she had been holding her breath. "Well, I guess I should thank you."

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "Don't mention it."

His mouth curled into a little smirk. "You're right. You really don't deserve my gratitude. In fact, you should be apologising to me."

A scowl fixed itself to her face. "What?"

"You said that Potter is a better Seeker than me." His eyes gleamed. "I take offence to that."

Ginny just rolled her eyes. And there was the Draco Malfoy she knew: cocky to the last. He didn't bother to wait for her response and gave her a lazy wave before strolling out from behind the tapestry, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to manhandle girls and have secret conversations with them behind tapestries.

Honestly, she was never going to understand that boy.

Rowan's Prompt (3)

Basic premise:Draco and Ginny play on the same Quidditch team.

Must haves:In character Ginny and Draco. Banter, snark. Classic fire-and-ice D/G dynamic. Description of at least one Quidditch match. Firewhisky.

No-no's:OOC-ness.

Rating range:Any.

Bonus points:Either Draco or Ginny unexpectedly standing up for the other because they are on the same team. Shirtless!Draco. A dare. MAGIC! If you get creative and make this Hogwarts era somehow.