It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside,
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
Don’t have much money, but f I did,
I’d buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no,
or a man who makes potions in the traveling show,
I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do,
my gift is my song and this ones for you
– Your Song By Elton John
If you had told me at my Hogwarts graduation three years ago that I’d be where I am right now, I would’ve called you bonkers. I even think the way things turned out is quite daft. But if you would’ve would’ve told me that by the time I was twenty one, I’d have the perfect job, the perfect house, and that I was expecting the perfect baby by my perfect husband, I would’ve send you straight to St. Mungos!
But you know what? It’s all true.
I do have the perfect job, Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Prophet, I do have the perfect house, a large two-story in the country, I am expecting(what I’m sure will be) a perfect baby girl, and to top it all off, I have the most wonderful, loving, caring, and dead sexy husband, Draco Malfoy.
I remember the first time I met Draco. I mean really met him, not just hated him from afar.
I think it was in my sixth year. I had gotten a detention from Snape because he “didn’t like my insolent tone” when I answered one of his moronic questions. At the time, I was tempted to raise my voice an octave and sing out, “Is this better?” but, I decided that that would be pushing it a tad too far. I really wanted to live to see the age of seventeen.
But anyway, I had detention, and my dear Snapeypoo had ordered me to clean every single one of the first years’ cauldrons. Without magic.
So I had just started my last cauldron when I heard someone come in. Thinking it was Snape, come to tell me how horribly I’d done and give me another detention, I turned around, trying not to look impatient and disgusted.
But when I saw who it really was, I couldn’t control myself.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” I asked with disdain, turning around to finish my cleaning.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the littlest Weasley!” He looked at the soapy sponge in my hand and then to the clean cauldrons behind him.
“So what’re you doing, Littlest weasel? Is your family really so poor that you have to stoop to cleaning disgusting cauldrons for extra cash?”
“Oh, sod off, Malferret!”
“Ooo! That was a good one Weasel!” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I hadn’t heard it from your idiot brother and Scarhead at least a hundred times before, maybe it would’ve hurt a little bit, too!”
By now, I was extremely annoyed, bordering on homicidal anger. So I decided to do what my mum had always said to do: Ignore him.
I turned back around to the cauldron, hoping he’d get the hint. But of course, he had to keep going.
“Give up, Weasel? Ah, I think that’s for the best, we both know who would’ve won, anyway.” And with that, he turned and walked back out the door, never accomplishing what he’d set out to do by coming down there, unless it had been to annoy the dickens out of me. Because if that was it, then he’d more that accomplished his task.
So much for love at first sight, huh?
So, other than the dungeon incident, my last two years at Hogwarts were relatively Malfoy-free.
I graduated and got a job from the Daily Prophet as a columnist. I’ve always had a flair for writing(though after my first year, I never had a love for diaries.).
So there I was at eighteen, young and foolish, naively thinking that I was going to live a peaceful Malfoyless life.
But then fate turned around and bitch-slapped me.
I’d been working at the prophet maybe three months when it happened.
I walked in that morning, happy and alert, due to the good nights sleep I had gotten , not to mention the pot of coffee I’d downed.
I strolled into my office and set my purse down, glancing to my desk for any notes from Cassandra, the current editor.
Seeing a folded sheet of paper bearing the name “Ginny,” I picked it up and proceeded to read.
As you might have heard, Draco Malfoy has purchased the quidditch team the Holyfield Harpies. Seeing as you enjoy quidditch, I thought you would like to interview him and write me one of your spectacular pieces. I would like to have this on my desk by Friday, so please owl his secretary for an appointment A.S.A.P. -Cassandra
Inwardly, I groaned. Hell, I groaned outwardly too! I had to do an article about Draco BLOODY Malfoy, for godssake!
“Why, why, why?!” I exclaimed, accentuating every syllable with a sound bang of my head on my desk. Finally after the fifth bang, I realized that knocking myself senseless was not going to help with my situation, nor was it going to help me keep my wits about me when I had to interview Malfoy.
Sighing, I pulled out a quill and some parchment and started a letter to his secretary
The next day, I stood outside the large oak door of Draco Malfoy’s office.
I hesitated a second before finally knocking softly, waiting for a reply.
Finally, I heard a voice say, “Come in.”
I slowly turned the large handle and cautiously stepped into the room.
It was quite a large room, but it was very simply furnished with a desk by the window, comfortable chairs both in front and behind it, and bookshelves lining the wall opposite the desk.
I looked away from the room itself and rested my gaze on the man that had come from behind the desk and was standing not two feet in front of me. My jaw dropped as I got a good look at him.
This was definitely not the Draco Malfoy I had known at Hogwarts.
He had most definitely grown into his looks. His face, which had been too pointy when he’d been at school, now had a slightly aristocratic air to it, with a long nose, full lips, and eyes that looked like pools of molten silver. He had allowed his hair to grow and had not slicked it back, letting it fall just above his chin with a few select pieces falling into his eyes. He had also filled out, his broader chest and shoulders making his 6’1” form look not so lanky as before.
In short, Draco Malfoy was hot. He was a 100% certified studmuffin.
“Miss Weasley,” he said with a voice like dark, rich chocolate as he offered his hand, “ it’s very nice to see you again.” I searched his voice for a hint of sarcasm, but found none. I offered my hand and said, “ Hello, Mr. Malfoy, it’s nice to see you too.” I was quite suprised when he raised my much smaller hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
“Shall we get started then?” he asked smoothly.
“Yes, let’s do that.” I mumbled, slightly dazed.
An hour later, I wrapped up what turned out to be highly productive interview.
“Well, I think that’s all.” I picked up my bag and rose from my chair, ready to leave.
“Thank you again for agreeing to this interview. It was nice seeing you.” I was heading for the door, when I heard him call me back.
“Oh,” I interrupted, “Call me Virginia.”
“Virginia,” he started again, “I was wondering, what are you doing tonight?”
My mouth dropped open, but I quickly closed it, as the large mouth bass look doesn’t really work on me.
“Uhm, well, I wasn’t planning on doing anything…”
“Well then, would you like to have dinner with me?”
My brain fought against itself. The practical, kind side said, Come on! Give him a chance, he’s obviously changed. While the mean, sadistic side said, He’s a Malfoy! What are you, nuts?!
Thankfully, the practical side won.
“Sure, Mr. Malfoy, I would enjoy that.”
“Good,” he said, flashing a dazzling smile, “I’ll pick you up at your flat at six.”
I wrote my flat number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. He took it, and I turned to leave.
“By the way, Virginia?”
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?”
“Call me Draco.”
I ripped my closet apart that afternoon before finally settling on a dark, forest green halter dress. It hung to about my mid-thigh, and was tight, but not to the point of vulgarity. I paired the dress with some strappy black heels. I let my hair out of the messy bun it had been in earlier, and the dark auburn curls fell to about my midback. I put on a touch of makeup and was just checking my reflection when I heard a knock on the door. I flounced my hair one last time and walked over to answer it.
“Hello, Dr-” my eyes almost bulged out of my head.
Draco looked, if at all possible, even better than before. He had on a dark navy blue suit with a light gray shirt underneath. he wasn’t wearing a tie, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a smooth, tan patch of chest. His hair was the same as before, with a few pieces hanging in his beautiful eyes.
He held out a long stemmed, red rose and said, “Virginia, Vous êtes la femme la plus belle que j’ai jamais vue.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
Using my internal translator, I worked it out to be, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I blushed furiously and said, “ Thank you, Draco, you look pretty good yourself.”
He smiled- actually smiled, not smirked- and said, “Shall we get going?”
“Yes, just let me get a wrap.” I went over to my small closet and pulled out a light wrap, seeing as it was late May.
“Where are we going anyway?” I called over my shoulder.
“Well, I was thinking of a small French restaurant I know called La Bonne Forchette. Is that alright with you?”
“Oh yes, it sounds wonderful! Where is it?”
“Just outside Diagon Alley. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’m coming.” I took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied, I went and took Draco’s arm, and we apparated to dinner.
“Virginia, would you like to dance?” Draco was standing in front of me, his hand extended in a gentlemanly manner.
“Of course, Draco, I’d love to.”
Draco helped me up out of my seat and led me to the center of the semi-crowded dance floor. He pulled me close, putting his left hand one my waist and taking my left in his right. There was music on, but I could only catch a little bit above the din of the restaurant.
And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done, I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you’re in the world.
“This is a nice song.” I murmured, placing my head on his shoulder. I felt him nodding, but he didn’t say anything.
“Draco,” I said softly, “Why are you so different from the way you were at Hogwarts when you called me ‘Little Weasel’ and made my life Hell? What made you change?”
Draco was silent for a moment, obviously thinking.
“Well, I think it was after my father died.”
I remembered hearing a story about how Lucius Malfoy was killed. It was the last battle against Voldemort in my seventh year(where ‘ol Voldie was killed by- Suprise, Suprise!- Harry Potter.). Lucius was killed by an Auror.
Draco’s voice cut through my thoughts, “ Yes, my father died and I saw how much better my mother and I were without out him, how much happier we were. I realized the I didn’t want to, no, couldn’t turn out like him. So I changed.” he said simply.
“Mmmm, that’s good,” I replied, pulling a little closer, “ I like you better this way.”
“ I like me better this way too, Ginny.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent, memorizing the way his body felt against mine, the feelings his large hands on my waist sent shivering up my spine. I locked all this in my memory, completely oblivious to my surroundings. I must’ve been like this for a while because I heard Draco saying softly, then louder, “Ginny? Ginny?”
“Huh?” I said thickly.
“The song’s over.”
After dessert, we apparated back to my flat.
“Draco, I would like to thank you for a wonderful night. I really enjoyed this.”
“I had a good time too. Would you like to go out again?”
“I’d love to.”
I mentally berated myself for being so rash, but if you had just had a wonderful time with possibly the best looking man you’d ever seen, what would you say? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“I’ll owl you tomorrow and we’ll set up a day and time, alright?”
“Sounds great.” I looked into my purse, fishing around for my keys.
“Yes, Draco?” I said, not looking up.
“Would you mind if umm…”
Was it just me, or did Draco Malfoy sound nervous?
“What is it Draco?” I asked, looking up quizzically.
“Would you… would you mind if I kissed you?”
I smiled. “No, Draco, I wouldn’t.” I said truthfully.
Giving me a slight smile, Draco leaned in a placed his lips on mine. It was light and feathery, almost chaste, but the moment his (incredibly soft) lips touched mine, there were fireworks, as horribly cliché as that might sound.
I leaned in to return it, but found that Draco had already apparated, leaving me to raise my hand to my lips gently, a goofy smile plastered on my face.