Old Author's Note: Disclaimer,etc.

AU, takes place Ginny's sixth, Harry etc.'s 7th year

This will also be published under my new account later, with the rest. Consider this a teaser chapter. ;)

New A/N: How funny, I'd forgotten I'd already made this account then... Well, I suppose I kept up my end of the bargain, didn't I? Unfortunately, because I just recently re-read this on fanfic, I am not going to re-read it all for errors, instead I'm going to skim (except for the worst parts). Hope you enjoy re-reading (if you're an old reader) or reading for the first time! Please review, even if it's a one letter review, so I get some idea that people are at least reading this. =]

Chapter One: The Anatomy of the Weasel

Ginny waited until Hermione was out of the room then immediately turned off the classical. She carefully tuned the muggle radio to some pop station and continued her work. The signal was weak at Hogwarts, and the radio really only received four channels, but Ginny didn't mind. It was nice to have some music that wasn't the Weird Sisters' screeching, or an equally cacophonous wizard band which seemed to be the most popular genre these days on the wizarding wireless. The song she tuned to hummed quietly, the simple melodic thrum of chords letting Ginny sink slowly back into her homework. Hermione had this idea that classical music was supposed to help one's brain absorb more information - but Ginny had a very different view. If all you listened to were symphonies and operas, you would go crazy, she was sure. Of course, that didn't mean she hated classical music, actually she was quite fond of certain songs and composers - Tchaikovsky and string music she liked - but Handel's Messiah? Not so much.

After a bit Ginny felt she could recognize the chorus, and hummed along. Her voice wasn't awful, but it wasn't exactly the best. Most people were annoyed at her singing - not really because of her tone, more because she had an uncanny habit to repeat the same part of the song many times, because that was the only part she knew.

Ginny sighed, flipping off the radio and reviewing her final product. She smiled: not too bad. A scroll and a half on defensive jinxes for Professor Warren. She carefully rolled up her parchment and placed it back in her school bag. She gazed out the window, longingly, at the sunny Saturday. She checked her watch. 10:02 AM. A couple hours in the library to finish some potions homework and then she could allow herself a rest in the last dregs of the summer she gathered her books. She needed to start off well - her O.W.L.s last year had been simply par. She wanted to gain the trust and respect of her teachers now - and avoid the unfair punishments later.

With her new outlook on school, Ginny had adopted a new look. She kept her hair pulled back in a tight bun on most days, and was constantly wearing her thick black rectangular reading glasses, in case she needed to look something up or write something down. Her hair had darkened very slightly in the summer sun, just enough to let the garish red strands shine out even more. As it was a weekend, Ginny was dressed casually. Her hair was in a tight high ponytail - out of her work - and her glasses perched on the edge of her ski slope nose. Her bright brown eyes had dulled in her studies. She wore loose cargo khakis - some hand-me-downs from Ron - and a blue Oxford University sweatshirt Hermione had given her when she had grown out of it. Her trainers were slightly too small, and a very dull brown. The only shiny things on her were her hair and her tiny golden locket.

Ginny walked down the stairs to the common room, sighing at its emptiness. Everyone was outside, having a good time. And she was working. Even Hermione was out enjoying herself with Ron and Harry, and it was her N.E.W.T. year! Ginny weakly pushed open the portrait and walked drearily toward the library, wallowing in self pity. Everything was fuzzy and dull, and Ginny barely saw the two figures in time to swerve out of their way. Somehow - maybe the proportion of her prescription - she managed to hit them anyway, falling to the ground with an uncomfortable thud and clatter.

"Watch where you're going, four eyes."

Ginny looked up and blinked in puzzlement - not recognizing the hazy faces that floated away from her. She realized she was still wearing her glasses, and propped them on top of her head, gathering up her books and assignments from the floor. She looked up at the retreating head of the boys she had hit. "Of course," she muttered, pessimistically, "Malfoy." She sighed, finishing getting the last of her quills from the floor, and straightened up. They were there. She felt the heat rush to her face as Malfoy squinted at her, attempting to remember exactly who she was.

"Ah. The youngest Weasel," his lips twisted into a sneer.

"Look, Malfoy: I'm not in the mood," Ginny sighed, too tired to put up a fight.

"Weaslette, I don't like you that way," He smirked, "Maybe you should go find Potter -" a look of faux pity dawned on his face, "Oh, right, he doesn't like you either."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, "That's nice. Maybe you should come back some other time when you'll get a reaction. I'm too tired at the moment," she turned slowly and continued down the corridor toward the library. She heard a stunned silence in her wake. A Gryffindor, not taking the bait? Unheard of.

A second later Ginny heard jogging footsteps, and Malfoy's companion stopped in front of her. She lowered her eyes and stepped to the side, but he held out his arm, blocking her path. Ginny looked up in surprise. He looked similar to Malfoy - same slick good looks, whip lean and muscular, same disgusting smirk. His facial features, however, were completely opposite. Dark hair, loose and intentionally disheveled, contrasted with Malfoy's white blonde. His eyes were a golden topaz, warmer but harder than Malfoy's cold grey. The boy's skin had a Mediterranean olive tone, opposed to Malfoy's Scandinavian pale.

Ginny looked at him, resignedly, "I told you, I'm busy. Wait a couple of weeks until I'll get pissed at you," she advised with the tone of a tired babysitter.

The boy's surprised frown shifted to a suspicious smirk, "This isn't the usual Weasley girl," he argued, "Where's the temper? The feistiness?" His eyes sparked, taunting her.

"She's busy. I'm studying," Ginny answered, moving to the side to go past him. He followed her movement, blocking her way again. "I told you, I'm busy," Ginny gazed toward the last corner leading to the library.

"What - need to figure out how to make your own clothing?" Malfoy gazed at her ramshackle outfit, sneering.

Ginny looked down again. "Sure. That's what I'll do," she agreed, absently, trying to push past the other boy's arm.

"Nuh uh," He smiled, coldly. Malfoy moved to the other side of him, blocking Ginny's escape.

"I give up," Ginny sighed, "You win, I lose. Can I go?" she asked, gaze switching between the two Slytherins, not knowing what they wanted from her.

Malfoy feigned thought, "Uh... no." Ginny sighed. "How old are you now, Weaslette? Fourteen?"

"I'm sixteen, Malfoy," she told him, "And I have some potions homework to finish, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind," He smirked. "Sixteen, did you say? Can't tell with those rags. Want to take them off?"

"No. Thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass."

"Curious, very curious," The dark boy looked at her, pondering, "No reaction. No red face, no turning to run - not a single snappy come back. Something is very wrong here."

"May I?" Ginny asked, looking from one to the other to pass.

"Of course, little Weasel."

The arms withdrew and Ginny walked by, toward the library. She turned the corner and muttered under her breath, sarcastically, "Thank you mister ferret."

"Excuse me?" A voice came from behind her.

Oops. Ginny continued walking, "You are excused," she called back, speeding up and nearing the doors. A heavy hand gripped her shoulder, jerking Ginny to a halt, lurching her back into reality.

"What did you just say?"

Ginny turned to face Malfoy, his hand slipping off, "I said," she repeated, walking slowly backward, "You. Are. Excused." And then she hit something.

"I don't think that's what he meant," the smirk was audible in the boy's voice, rumbling against her back.

"I don't think we've met," Ginny turned, stepping back once, and holding out her hand, "Ginny Weasley."

"Blaise Zabini." He didn't reach for the hand. She dropped it.

"Nice to meet you Blaise. Maybe I'll see you around." She stepped past him, entering the library. She found a table in the back, retrieving the book she needed from the restricted section and sat down with her work, zipping through.

--

"Done, done, and... done." She dotted her last sentence an hour later.

"Let's see..." A pale hand shot down and plucked her essay from the table.

"It's just my potions homework," she explained.

"Well, you don't need that," Malfoy moved to rip it apart.

"Don't," Ginny ordered. Just the slightest bit of anger began to bubble through her numbness.

His smirk widened, "Ah, here she comes. The real Weasel," he tore a centimeter into the parchment.

"Expelliarmus," Ginny pointed her wand at him, and he shot back into the wall, a look of shock on his face, as she grabbed her paper out of the air. "Just because I'm not going to argue with you doesn't mean I'm going to let you destroy my hours of work."

"You little-" he hissed, stepping forward, but Zabini appeared and held out an arm, keeping him back. He whispered something, too low for Ginny to hear.

"Watch out, Weasley. Another run in like this and you may not be so lucky," he warned, giving his friend's arm a half-hearted push.

"Zabini. Malfoy. In case you haven't noticed; I wasn't the one who started this. You've been stalking me," she pointed out, the rip in her calm slowly growing.

Malfoy snorted, "That's it: detention Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and outrage, causing Malfoy's scowl to turn into a wide smirk, "But-" realizing how loud she was, she bit her lower lip, lowering her voice. "You have no right," she said, quietly, her voice shaking, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the library.

"Oh yes I do."

"We're prefects," Zabini added.

"So am I," Ginny growled.

"But you're only thirteen!" Malfoy protested in disbelief.

"I'm sixteen dammit!" Ginny hissed, her hands balling into fists around her wand.

"Prove it." Malfoy crossed his arms, looking at her incredulously.

Did they honestly think she was a fourth year?! Ginny held up her N.E.W.T. level potions textbook.

"Could be an overachiever," Malfoy suggested to his friend, and both shrugged, indifferent.

Ginny was infuriated. "Malfoy," she simmered, voice low, "You made my first year hell. How could you possibly forget that?"

"Are you sure you're a girl? I don't remember any sixth year girls with sticks up their arses," Zabini pointed out, "And god knows what's hiding under that mess," He added, gesturing at her baggy hand-me-downs.

Ginny used to be known for being rash. Reckless. But she had changed for her sixth year. She'd become more mature. Sophisticated. Wise. But her next move was anything but.

"Happy now?" She hissed, pulling her sweatshirt back down, and grabbing her things, hightailing it out of the library, furious.

"Man," Blaise looked at Draco once she'd left, surprise and a pleasant shock mirrored in their eyes, "She's a bit of alright."

--

Ginny felt the regret begin to sink through her as she changed into her bikini. How stupid was she - flashing a couple of Slytherins? At least she'd been wearing a nice bra. She sighed, and slipped some of Ron's old shorts and a Chudley Cannons shirt on over her bathing suit. She grabbed her wand, and switched her reading glasses for sunglasses.

She spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione the moment she could see the lake. They were on a collection of rocks in a shallow inlet, and Ginny smiled, going to meet them.

"Ginny!" Hermione smiled, "You look..." she paused as Ginny slipped off the t-shirt, "...pale. Are you alright?" Her face was surprised.

"Just been inside a lot," Ginny shrugged, wiggling out of her shorts and lying across a warm flat rock. Her skin was nearly white, her freckles standing out like constellations.

"You guys," Harry poked Ron in the shoulder, "Look," he gestured to a spot a hundred meters away, "Quidditch game, c'mon."

"No thanks," Ginny dismissed him, too tired to leave her nice warm rock. She heard the other three leave, and breathed in the quiet.

"Hey Gin."

Ginny opened her eyes, and saw Malcolm Cage leaning over her, grinning. "Hey Malc," she grinned back.

Malcolm was a sixth year Ravenclaw, and Ginny's first boyfriend - before she found out he was gay. But she kept his secret and let him court her to keep himself under wraps. He had longish light brown hair and bright hazel eyes.

"Sit up," he ordered.

She obeyed, facing into the sun, smiling. He sat behind her and began massaging her shoulders. Ginny groaned, letting her head hang down. "Thanks Malc," she muttered, sleepily.

He seemed about to reply, but something cut him off. "Ooh-ooh. One fine bastard at ten o'clock," he whispered.

Ginny glanced to her left and snorted, "Zabini."

"You know him?" Malcolm asked, incredulous.

"Not in the biblical sense, but this morning..." She squinted, trying to figure how to say it, "He happened upon a couple of 'girls' he didn't recognize - as the actress said to the bishop."

"You didn't," Malcolm gawped at her.

"Oh yes-" Ginny winced, "I did."

"What happened to wise Ginny? Intellectual Ginny?"

"She was on coffee break," Ginny blushed, "Or maybe out clubbing." To her surprise, Malcolm laughed. "It's not funny!" Ginny protested, hurt.

"Well - imagine his surprise," Malcolm cuckled, "I mean: I may not be straight, but I can appreciate a good pair," He told her, pointedly, "And you, Gin, have them just right."

"Malcolm!" Ginny slapped him gently, blushing. Being the only girl in her family was a problem. And her chest wasn't exactly a topic she was willing to discuss with anybody.

"Honestly, what size are you?"

Ginny's eyes widened, "I'm not telling!" She winced as her voice came out in a shrill squeal.

Malcolm checked her bikini tags before Ginny could fight him off. He sighed, "If I had your body I'd be showing it off. Not hiding it under guy's clothes."

"I don't exactly have a choice," Ginny pointed out.

"Oh yes you do."

Ginny looked surprised. "Really." She deadpanned, sarcastically, "And what is your solution?"

"Just give me some hand-me-downs and your measurements."

"Gladly. But if you make me into a slut, I swear-"

"No worries, darling, I'll have a few things ready by Monday - just give me the password."

Ginny gave it to him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he left. He was a sweetheart. She stretched back out on the rock, letting the heat seep into the very marrow of her bones. Sunlight... such a welcome respite from her regular backdrop of the library and her desk. She flipped onto her stomach, putting her head sideways on her arm pillow. That's when she saw it. A certain white-blonde head turning away from her. Had Malfoy just been... checking her out? Ginny felt bile rising in her throat. But if Zabini's lingering gaze was any indicator, he hadn't been the only one. Ginny was disgusted as the Italian boy's gaze shifted over her. She rolled backwards, tumbling into the warm shallow pool.

Ginny sighed inwardly as she floated on the surface, remembering her parents' directions - chest up, butt up, head down - and let the water lap her sides, enveloping her in liquid sunlight. She smiled, eyes closed.

"Well that's not a bad sight at all," she heard the syrupy smooth voice through the thick haze of the water, and bolted up, placing most of her body underwater.

"You again," she sighed, trying to regain her nonchalance. She couldn't help but be grateful for the water's protection. She didn't like them looking at her - especially not the way they did now.

"Oh please, continue," Zabini gestured to her, smirking, "We won't stop you."

"'We'?" The way he said it, it sounded like an army.

Malfoy gestured, and another group of people crested the rocks. Ginny sunk neck-deep in the water, churning it with her hands. She recognized a few of the Slytherin posse from the Slytherin quidditch team, and some from prefect meetings.

"This is the Head Girl's spot," Ginny said, calmly.

"Says who?" Malfoy asked, sneering.

Ginny waved her wand, sending up a flowing golden script. "Says me." The script formed into the words 'Reserved for Hermione Granger.'

"Priori incantatum," Malfoy flicked his wand and the words melted away.

"Expelliarmus," Ginny grabbed his wand as it hit the water, then sent up the words again. "You want your wand back in one piece, I advise you to leave," Her face was impassive, neither angry nor smiling - simply blank, "Unless you'd like to speak to the Head Girl yourself?"

"Look, luv," Ginny balked at Zabini's casually used nickname, "We've got a few of our own friends, as well. Like, say, the Head Boy?" he smirked, "So unless you'd like to be reported for trying to reserve unclaimable property, I'd suggest you hurry up and get your freckled arse out of our pool."

"Your pool? Look who's reserving property now," she glared, "And I'd prefer you not make assumptions about my arse."

"Well if you'd like to prove yourself - a la this morning - I'm sure I wouldn't mind," His eyes sparked.

"Once again, I'm gonna have to pass, sorry. Maybe you should ask Parkinson there - she looks about ready to drop trou for anyone," Ginny ducked, quickly swimming into a cove under the rocks as the squish-faced girl dove in to attack her.

The cove was a discovery of her own findings a couple of years before. She had been experimenting with the bubblehead charm, exploring the pools, and had found the small passage to the cove. She came up under the very rocks the Slytherins were standing on, hearing their conversation through the many cracks, and barely managing a view of their faces, at an odd under-angle.

"Where'd she go?" A boy with a slow, deep voice was asking.

"Probably disapparated," Parkinson spat, "Little bitch."

Ginny held back a snort. Apparating and disapparating was impossible on school grounds.

"Well at least we've got the pool." There was a splash as more bodies jumped in.

"It's a shame she's a Weasel," Malfoy sighed, speaking quietly, then chuckled darkly, "Who knew what was hiding under that garbage."

"Who cares? I'd tap that any day," Zabini licked his lips and Ginny shuddered in disgust. Ewww...

"You'd bang anything with beestings," Malfoy sniggered.

"Those are no beestings - you have to admit she's beddable."

"She's a Weasel."

"Weasel's can be beddable."

There was a second of pause and they both burst into laughter.

Ginny ducked under water, letting Malfoy's wand float into the pool, and then moved into another tunnel leading to an empty pool, and surfaced in the shade twenty metres away. She shivered, and was about to get out when she realized she didn't have her clothes. She swam back to the underground cove, waiting until she heard the Slytherins leave before returning to the warm pool. She surfaced and climbed out of the inlet, dripping. She lay down on her rock again, sighing with satisfaction as the sun dried her.