Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I mean, I wrote a bunch of words, but I don't even own the words if we're going to get all existential about it. Can anyone own words? Are words even real? Woah. Blowing my mind.

A/N: I wrote this in honor of Draco's birthday, which was yesterday. (June 5th. He turned 30.) Also, because Tom Felton won best villain for the MTV Movie Awards tonight! Which I realize isn't exciting to most people, but this fangirl was freaking PUMPED. I don't know if I'm particularly pleased with this quick little one-shot, but I haven't written anything in a while, and I'm hoping that getting the ball rolling with this will fix my writer's block. Enjoy!

The voluptuous brunette marched down the streets of Hogsmeade, silk violet robes billowing behind her, her head held in an angle that spoke of years in a setting of aristocracy. She came to an abrupt halt in front of a run-down pub and pursed her lips. Why Draco wanted his birthday party here, of all places, she could not even begin to fathom. Taking out her handkerchief, she cast a disgusted look at the door, which was so heavily coated in grime she could hardly see through the window. She used the embroidered cloth to open the door, unwilling to touch anything with her bare hands.

She entered the smoke filled establishment and couldn't help choking on the fumes, which seemed to be emitting from a dark cloaked man's pipe. Scanning the room, she spotted the bartender, whose shining red hair was done up in a messy ponytail.

Suddenly, Pansy understood why her best friend was so insistent on having his 30th birthday bash at the dingy old Hog's Head Inn.

Ginny had been a bartender at the Hog's Head for nearly seven years. She had jumped from job to job ever since leaving Hogwarts, never completely satisfied, but she fell comfortably into bartending at the little inn. Aberforth was reluctant in hiring her, never one to trust another to do his job (or anything else, really), but he was getting on in years, and decided that maybe a second bartender was exactly what the Healer ordered (that is, if he was the type to rely on such people). Hiring the pretty redhead wasn't bad for business, either. Despite Abe's insisting that everything remain the same, and Ginny's act of honoring that decision, the shabby pub became steadily more popular. In the daytime hours the same seedy witches and wizards did their business and drank their firewhiskey, but in the evenings it became evident that some newer clientele were suddenly interested in stopping for a few drinks, as long as the slim little spitfire was tending bar.

Said spitfire was cleaning a dirty mug with a slightly less dirty rag, when she heard the front door creak open. She glanced up and took in the newcomer's appearance. To say the woman didn't fit in would be a great understatement, if the horrified expression on her face was anything to go by. When their eyes met, the brunette displayed a sudden look of understanding, and purposefully marched up to the bar.

The mystery woman struck out her hand to shake, displaying a diamond the size of a Snitch, which Ginny couldn't help gawking at momentarily before putting back on what she referred to as her "business face". The brunette lifted her left hand and gazed lovingly at her ring finger, "Isn't it divine?" she cooed, "Theodore Nott proposed last year. The wedding is set for October."

"Well that's… nice," Ginny replied. Theodore Nott… she wracked her brains to figure out where she'd heard the name before. Suddenly, it hit her. Slytherins.

"Pansy Parkinson," the brunette introduced herself, coming out of her lovesick reverie. "I come to inquire about renting out this building for the evening. It's Draco Malfoy's birthday, and his idea of a good time is apparently throwing a party here." She stared at the room with obvious disdain.

"I'm terribly sorry Miss Parkinson," Ginny replied in a voice that made it quite evident she was not sorry at all. "We don't hold birthday parties here."

"10,000 Galleons for the evening, not including tips, of course." Regardless of the fact that Pansy had absolutely no interest in spending any more time than necessary in this potentially diseased room, Draco was not one to be told he could not do something. By avoiding his tantrum, she could also secure him as a groomsman at her wedding as payback.

Just as the redhead was about to tell Pansy exactly where she could stick those tips, she thought of what Abe's reaction would surely be the next morning when he heard of the offer his bartender turned down. He was not a materialistic man, but 10,000 Galleons was nothing to sneeze at- he could buy an entire goat farm if he so chose. Swallowing her pride, she told the brunette that she would be ready at 8 o'clock.

"That should suffice," Pansy drawled, her hips swaying as she walked towards the door. Her hand still on the knob, she called back, "My house elves will be here at 6:30 to make this place remotely presentable. I do hope that will be enough time." Smirking, she shut the door behind her. Ginny made a rude hand gesture where the other woman had just been standing and muttered obscenities under her breath. The mug she was holding shattered as she took out her frustrations on its cleaning. Aberforth better be damn thankful of her sacrifice- she knew as soon as that overpriced cloak entered the bar she was in for trouble.

As expected, 4 house elves apparated into the Hog's Head at precisely 6:30 and set straight off to work at speeds that Harry's Firebolt would be envious of. The sight was a bit unsettling- even the last customer (a hag, who had been muttering nonsense under her breath for hours) cleared out within fifteen minutes of their arrival. Feeling a bit useless in comparison to the hard-working creatures, Ginny restocked the bar. Then, she re-restocked the bar. Looking at the rusty clock that hung over the doorframe, she saw that she still had a half hour until guests arrived. Although she was aware that there was hardly a point to cleaning the mugs and glasses, she yearned to continue on with her previous work, just for something to do with her hands. But, the house elves had already taken to that, and they were sparkling in a way that they never had before. Ginny decided it would be best not to touch them with the dirty rag.

She slumped down onto a crate behind the bar. She was about to host a birthday party for Dracosodding Malfoy. How does one even act at a pureblood event? Should she smile and flirt for big tips? She was never the type to do that sort of thing, but sometimes when there was a particular sort of evening crowd she'd flaunt a little bit. She couldn't help but gag at the thought of flirting and making nice with a group of Slytherins. No, putting on an act would not do. "Businesslike," she said aloud, "I will be businesslike, but vaguely polite. Not too harsh, but not particularly soft either." Nodding in affirmation to herself, she suddenly felt a little silly. Nodding to oneself and having personal dialogue was surely a sign of insanity. When she heard a crack, meaning the house elves had disapparated, she felt even sillier. Now that the room really was empty, she could not even pretend she had been communicating with the only other living beings she had seen since 6:45. Groaning, she rested her head in her hands.

Suddenly, she heard a bell chiming as the door swung open. "Really Daphne, you did not under dress," said the voice that had plagued Ginny a mere 5 hours ago. "There is no such thing as too casual here."

Ginny stood up, straightening her white tank top, which had bunched up as she was huddled behind the bar. She was suddenly very aware of a stain that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Lovely to see you again Miss Parkinson," she said, her voice betraying the irritation she clearly felt.

Pansy ran a finger across the bar. Examining it, she found no dust. "I see my house elves did an adequate job," she sniffed.

Before Ginny could retort, a rowdy group of men had entered right behind the current bane of Ginny's existence, and her very thin blonde friend. Trying to remember who was in her brother's year, she concluded that they were Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. Bringing up the rear was no other than the man of the hour himself, Draco Malfoy. She hadn't paid him too much attention since leaving Hogwarts, but she couldn't help but notice that the years had certainly done him well. His slender, pointed face was still the same, but his hair had grown much longer, reaching his shoulders. He was no longer thin and awkward, as his build had finally complimented his tall stature. She shook herself out of her reverie as yet more people came through the door. Soon, the bar had reached beyond its full capacity, the lights were dimmed, music was playing, and everyone was drinking heavily and dancing.

Pansy hadn't been exaggerating about the money, Ginny soon realized. She had to expand her tip jar, as it had filled within the first hour. As she made yet another expensive cocktail for Astoria Greengrass, she felt someone staring at her from the other end of the bar. She glanced over her shoulder, her honey brown eyes met with pair of light grey ones, surrounded by long, pale eyelashes. He was drumming his clean ("Probably manicured," she thought to herself.") fingernails against the bar as she walked over to him.

"Nice party," she called over the music.

"It is a good turnout, isn't it?" he drawled. It lost a bit of its usual effect, as he was slurring quite heavily. "Say what you will about Slytherins, but we certainly know how to party."

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"A birthday kiss from the lovely bartender," he purred.

Feeling heat rush to her face, she immediately turned around, took a deep breath, and grabbed something behind the bar. Pouring it into a mug, she replied, "I think it's about time we switched you to butterbeer."

"I'm not drunk," he attempted to assure her, unsuccessfully, "And you are very pretty."

"Perhaps water," she said, downing the butterbeer herself.

"Pretty, pretty little red. Won't you come into my bed?" he laughed giddily. "I just made a poem. It's about you, you know."

"Yes, somehow I had worked that out for myself." She could absolutely sense a blush on her cheeks now, which seemed to turn redder the longer he looked at her like that. "Do you have someone who can take you home, Malfoy? I think you've had enough."

"I assumed you would take me home, Red," he replied, winking.

"You are incredibly self-assured, do you know that?"

"I tell myself that every day," he replied, grinning.

"He has a very nice smile," Ginny thought to herself. "When he's not smirking like a git," she added as an afterthought. "Even if I wanted to, I could not take you home, Malfoy. You see the reason I'm standing behind this long stretch of wood is not, in fact, because I prefer to be as close to the liquor as possible. I am actually the one running your little party, meaning I cannot just leave whenever I so choose."

Draco seemed to ponder this further. Then, without warning, he jumped on top of the oak bar, wobbling a bit as he lost balance. Steadying himself, he stood to his full height and waved his wand; the lights turned on, and the music stopped immediately. Nearly everyone looked up (Daphne was passed out on a table, and Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode were entirely too preoccupied snogging the daylights out of each other to notice anything.), curious to see what had stopped their good time. Pansy glared at Ginny accusingly.

"Mates, comrades, girls I used to shag," at this, he winked roguishly. Laughter erupted from the crowd. "I wish to thank you all for celebrating my growing older. Just keep in mind; I will always remain prettier than the lot of you. Now, clear out so I can snog the bartender!" With cheers and yet more laughter, the crowd thinned as people slowly mulled around, saying their goodbyes, and wandering back into the streets of Hogsmeade. Ginny groaned and hid her face in her hands, her long red hair, which had escaped out of its ponytail long ago, sweeping over the bar like a scarlet curtain.

When she heard the door finally slam shut as the last drunken aristocrat left, she looked up to see Draco staring expectantly at her.

"Yes, fine, let's get you home. What are the chances you can Side-Along Apparate without splinching yourself?" She groaned.

He grumbled unintelligibly back.

"Peachy," she replied, rolling her eyes. Pulling him by the arm, she dragged him out of the bar into the warm summer night. She threw her wand arm out into the empty street, and was nearly knocked over as a purple bus screeched to a halt. Before Stan Shunpike could say a word she cut in, "Yes, yes, I know, no need for an introduction. Just take us to Malfoy Manor." Realizing she had been a bit rude, she kindly added, "Please."

With Stan's help, she managed to get Draco onto the nearest seat.

"Public transportation?" he whined. "I'm a Malfoy. We do not use public transportation."

"Ungrateful git," she mumbled under her breath.

After an unbearably long ride, filled with Draco's constant whining or incessant flirting, the Knight Bus finally stopped with a jolt in front of towering steel gates. Yet again Stan assisted her in pulling her drunken comrade back into the street, and the bus was gone before she could call back a thank you. Clearly they were in just as much of a hurry to get rid of the blond as she was.

Ginny lifted Draco's muscular arm over her shoulder, her knees nearly buckling under his weight as he leaned against her. Using all of her strength to get his lazy bum to the front door, muttering about pretention and peacocks all the way, she finally arrived, nearly dropping him as she pulled his arm off of her aching shoulder.

"Can you make it okay from here, Malfoy?"

"Maybe."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she silently counted to ten and replied, "What do you mean maybe?"

"I didn't get my kiss," he said, with that annoyingly attractive smirk.

She placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek, patted his head, and turned to leave. He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto him, cupping her face and placing a deep kiss upon her pouting red lips. Completely forgetting herself, the redhead melted into it, grabbing his hair with the hand that wasn't entwined with his. Suddenly coming to, she pulled away. Smirking in a way that no doubt made him proud, she said, "I think that's quite enough for one night, birthday boy."

As she made her way towards the gate, he called after her, "Red! May I owl you sometime?"

"If you manage to remember this night at all, Malfoy," she called back, "I suppose that would be okay."

Ginny woke up the next morning to a tapping at her window. She did not recognize the well-groomed eagle owl, but touching her swollen lips absentmindedly, she let him in. Seeing the crest seared into the wax that sealed the letter shut, the redhead rolled her eyes in exasperation, but there was no hope in hiding the foolish grin that spread wide across her face. Damn it all to hell, she was falling for a Malfoy.

I stole this:

"You are incredibly self-assured, do you know that?"

"I tell myself that every day."

from 10 Things I Hate About You.

In case anyone was curious.