Chapter One: First Meetings

Thank you to TehOtakuInc. for editing it and stuff. D

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling; I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

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The skies foretold no sun and much wind with a dose of all around cold. It was going to be a gloomy day in southern England. But this was of little importance in the Malfoy Manor as it had central heating. Taxes, bills and other official looking documents littered the surface of the aged mahogany desk that was no doubt worth millions. Draco sighed, running his hands through his already thinning hair as he prepared himself for a long day of paper work. "Saturdays," he mumbled to himself and continued his weekly routine. When was it that this day that once brought joy to him as a student, now brings so much dread? Shrugging off distracting thoughts from his mind, Draco started to sift through the masses of papers on his desk. He was, in fact, so engrossed in the monotony and suffocating quiet that was his paperwork, he barely noticed his son enter is study, Daily Prophet in hand.

"Father," Scorpius started his voice barely audible, offering him the wizard newspaper. Draco paused a moment, stopping was he was doing to strain his ears to hear his son's uncharacteristically soft voice. "I think you should look at this."

Lazily, Draco extended a hand to receive the foreboding paper, his other hand scribbling on yellowed parchment with a majestic black feather.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived (or in his opinion "just wouldn't die) was dead," the headline read in big black bold letters promising details on page seven.

Despite the headline, Draco's attention was caught elsewhere.

A dead body, a mourning wife.

The picture displayed the Potter living room, strangely, mockingly, in an orderly fashion with two figures, one hunched over the other cradling the lifeless body. There was no blood, no struggle, not a flicker of abnormality that would indicate something, anything, about the death. It was as if he had decided to take a nap and never wake.

Despite the black and white moving photo, Draco could see the fiery red hair; hear the wracking, heart wrenching sobs, see the endless tears flowing down her porcelain face. He remembered being the source of these sobs at some point. He recalled running his fingers through her hair and making a mess, and walking away from those very same tears. He could almost feel the advent of the tingle that rose up in his chest whenever she was within the vicinity, and the deep chasm of regret that came with it.

It was then that Draco glanced at his favorite writing utensil and remembered he had a promise to keep.

A promise made twelve years ago…

Draco Malfoy had a problem.

It's not often that the great heir of the Malfoy fortunes and estates is confronted with a problem that really messes up his hair. No, he was a Malfoy to the core and as such did not get troubled easily. Problems were either solved through threats or money, simple as that. If there was something he couldn't get, well let's cross that bridge when we get there shall we?

Platinum blonde hair with well proportioned, chiseled features, obedient to his name, and undeniably bratty, Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted. And why shouldn't he? He was better than everyone, but he also happened to be in love with the worst person to be in love with, the queen of innocence and un-attainability. Hence, his problem.

Her name was Ginevra Molly Weasley and she was hard to get. Not playing either. Just was.

Draco wasn't really sure when he fell in love with the littlest weasel. Just that he did.

Perhaps it was because of the feeling he got in his chest whenever she was within the vicinity. It was the "I-feel-like-I-can't-breathe-but-feel-like-I'm-tasting-freash-air-for-the-first-time" feeling that he had always read about in novels.

Or maybe it was the fact that they both shared a love for lame, feel good romance novels.

It was no secret that Ginevra Molly Weasley was a sucker for chick-lit. It was a secret that Draco was a victim of the dreadfully addicting cliché plots of romance novels too. (He started reading the novels in his first year of Hogwarts, when he stumbled upon the wizard romance classic "The witch and the ghoul." It was, in romance literary terms, love at first sight.)

Draco was shivering inside when he first saw her pick up a volume of Ceb Magot to read, and even managed a smile when he saw a volume Jidget Bones sitting on the edge of her desk during study hall. His nagging ache in his chest that reminded him of her only ached more when he witnessed her freckled, button nose buried within a think tomb of "The Best of Petter Maddix: The Collector's Edition". And when she picked up "Gossip Witch" he could only barely contain his exclamation of "Peter dies!" from escaping his lips.

But, it also was no secret that Ginevra had one large easily angered older brother, who could easily do enough damage for one person (plus six others) which did not like him very much. That brought Draco back to reality. But love-stuck reality was like romance novel reality; unreasonable and rose-tinted, leaving him soon drifting back to thoughts of how pretty she looked when she told him to "bugger off" last week in the annual Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch match.

-Flashback-

Draco was flying around the pitch, avidly concentrating on looking for the snitch and trying not to be distracted by a red headed chaser passing, and receiving the quaffle. In fact he was so concentrated on looking for the snitch that he didn't catch his eyes wandering to lock on to the very person he was trying so hard to ignore.

But thank the gods her hair was such a beautiful red, for at that very moment when Draco registered exactly what he was doing and refocused on his actual goal, the snitch appeared, in Gryffindor colors.

The small golden ball was flitting playfully around Ginny Weasley's head. Contrasting nicely with her fiery locks and appearing very clear to Draco. He dived with the thought of the big house party that would be thrown for his win and his father's final approval. Hand outstretched and ready for the capture, Draco leaned in. He could taste his victory on his wind blown, parched lips. Until he couldn't, and all he could see was red. All he could taste was red, and a faint tang of spring.

Draco had dived straight into Ginny Weasley's head.

"OW! What do you think you're doing Malfoy?" Ginny exclaimed jerking away with her hand on her head. "Was your big head too far up your arse for you to see when you're inches from collision? Bloody hell, don't go and outdo yourself here, Malfoy."

Draco wasn't paying attention to her insults, still focused on the taunting golden ball now orbiting her left foot. He made to move towards her once she had her head turned but she sensed his movement and halted his attempt.

"Bugger off Malfoy." She said as she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. Her hair fanned in a disorganized fashion around her face and her eyes shone in hostility.

Draco's heart stopped.

-End Flashback-

At first he wasn't sure if it was love, but now he was definite. He had analyzed mountains of chick-lit volumes, and sappy novels and, consulted every romantic classic he had already read. He tore through each book on love known to wizard kind and the extensive Hogwarts library. And he did this all twice. He combed the fiction section of the library until he decided that he needed some new romance material and started browsing muggle literature. Surprisingly enough, Draco rather liked the muggle books and started to frequent the muggle section of the library to indulge in Italian boat rides and Parisian honeymoons. Plus, she was always there.

Figures, considering her muggle loving background he really shouldn't have been surprised when he found her in the far corner of the muggle literature section, legs pulled up to her chest so that her chin rested on her knees, head angled downward to read the book placed at her feet, and red hair acting like curtains, barricading her in to the world of romance.

Whenever Draco went to indulge in his latest literature, the youngest Weasley would always be there. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't confront her. He was a Malfoy, and she was a Weasley. He still had his pride to consider, whereas she...well he wasn't entirely sure what she still had, but he was sure it wasn't much.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew he couldn't have her, yet it was that aspect that only made him want her even more. He still thought that Weasleys were the scum of purebloods, he just made an exception for her, because…well...she liked quidditch. He liked quidditch. She liked reading feel good romance novels, and so did he. Already they had two things in common. Draco couldn't have hoped for better.

Eventually, Draco got used to her presence, to the point where her Saturday routine was implemented into his brain. (Read: Draco stalked her in the library every Saturday until it became part of his schedule.) He was accustomed to seeing her in the library every week on Saturday afternoons, in her own little corner, reading away at the latest after finishing her potions homework. So, really, it should not have been a shock when he reached for "A weekend in Paris" by Rex Pottle only to find her hand already attached to it.

Caught unaware, Draco pulled his hand back. Damn bookshelves. Had to be accessible on both sides!(1)

"Malfoy?" Ginny caught Draco's eye through the small gap that the book left on the shelf.

Oh gods! It's like the 1996 Romeo and Juliet fish tank scene all over again (2).

"Good heavens, Weasley!" Ginny raised a curious eyebrow at him through the gap oblivious to Draco's jumpy response, "what are you doing here?"

"It's the library, Malfoy. You know public place? Wow, I thought rich people were educated. Turns out they really do only have money in their heads."

"As opposed to you, who is too poor to afford anything in your head? And for your information I was referring to the time, don't you have potions homework to do?"

"Yeah, but-," Ginny paused, the wheels in her head turning. "How did you know that?"

Draco, realizing he was putting himself in a situation where he really did not want to be, recovered in the only way he knew how. "That is not important. My affairs are none of your business. Anyways, you can have the book, I've read it already." And with that he stalked off unaware of his mistake.

Ginny's mouth was agape in disbelief. One, because she just had a mildly civil conversation with Draco pompous Malfoy. Two because the book she was holding was none other than the OG: Summer on Layuga Beach. Looking incredulously from the book to his retreating figure, she could only shake her head and hope it was some kind of disturbing mistake.

Because as far as Ginny knew the Draco Malfoy she knew did not read chick lit.

Author's Notes

(1) Dym (beta) pointed this out to me. how are bookshelves accessible on both sides? the title can only be read from one side right? then she answered her own question by saying "magic? That's not...ah...wait...yes." While magic is a perfectly viable explanation, we're going to assume that Draco has memorized the location of this book, as he is such as fanatic.

(2) In the 1996 movie release of Romeo and Juliet the scene when the two first see each other is through a fish tank. It's about the only thing I remember from the movie.

A lot of the books that Draco refers to are tied in with the real world. Like Jidget BonesBridget Jones. Yeah? Lack of creative ideas leads me to do this...oh and "Rex Pottle" was the result of me staring off in the distance which happened to contain a water bottle and a box of Oreos. After a long while Oreo started to look like rex and bottle became pottle. Hehe...yeahh.

Hehe...sorry about the erm...cliché-ness of the first bit. I heard it made my betas twitch. SORRY! It's gotta be that way for now.

OKAY!! FIRST CHAPTER OF FIRST FIC!!

AGH!! The title is soo cliché...ewww. Bear with me for now.

Was it terrible?

I bet it was.

Now you gotta tell me how terrible it was by REVIEWING!!

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