Better Than Chocolate

"How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill?"

“I didn’t start that fire, Malfoy, and I could have fixed my head myself. Where are we anyway? The Land of the Stray Donkeys?”

“Aren’t you happy I’m physically disabled, melon-head?”

“Congratulations, Weaselhead,” he said finally, his tones anything but grateful. “You managed to fix it without making my finger sprout extra hands.”

“You’re welcome,” Ginny said sarcastically

He would, she could almost swear, not leave her in danger, if he knew of it - he would let himself get hurt, but he would do, she seemed to realize now, all in his power to save her - no, not her, but any girl.

Why did that thought sting?

She would not weep over little things, would not back out of a challenge -- she could hold her own and, at the end of the day, she did not need him to protect her.

Why did that thought sting?

Was he a good kisser?

He smelled like citric acid or lemon juice or – What am I doing?

“Go to sleep.” He sounded almost savage, did not look at her as he spoke. “Go to sleep, or I’ll hurt you, Weasley.”