I own nothing but the fic ideas I write.
Whatever kind of card Draco had up his sleeve, it was - as per usual - nothing good. As it was time after time again, he'd managed to outdo himself each and every time this day of the month came around, to still somehow manage to surprise the frightened, redheaded girl standing amongst the crowd, even if she did already know what was coming. By this point, it was a well-known 'secret' that certain Hogwarts students would all gather together once a month, out near the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Yes, it was there that many tiny slips of paper were placed into an upside down wizard hat, before being shaken about a bit.
One by one, a select number of students would then proceed to step up to said hat and reach into it, before pulling out one of the slips of paper. The first of these students to step forward was Draco Malfoy, as was always the case. It was also the case that he seemed to manage to get precisely the right slip of paper he wanted, each and every single time. It was clearly done by some form of jynxing and witchery, but no one dared say so. Draco was simply allowed to do as he pleased, and so he did, smirking as he unfolded the small slip of paper, before reading aloud what was written upon it, with a bit of a snarl on his face. "Ginny Weasley."
Still smirking, he stepped forward toward the girl, whose big, doe-like eyes looked frightened, and rightfully so. Grasping her by the crook of her elbow, Draco continued to snarl as he spoke to her. "Ginevra Weasley, I choose you to step forward into the box now. So go on then, Weasley, step on into the crate. Go."
The box in question was a dreaded object at best, and an instrument of pure and unadulterated torture at worst. One could never quite be sure what they'd find once they were within this box; gigantic spiders, scores of scorpions, mutated rats, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Himself - you never could tell.
Of course, in reality, there was nothing more than a simple boggart in the box. Without imagination, it was harmless as could be, but just try to give it something from the depths of your imagination to feed off of, and that was that. It was then suddenly the stuff of a person's worst nightmares. As such, the boggart was kept there in the crate near the Forbidden Forest, just waiting to scare the living daylights out off whoever dared to step within its quarters.
Clasping her clammy hands into fists, the redheaded Ginny took a few steps forward, the hairs on her neck standing up as she approached nearer and nearer to the crate. Finally, the Gryffindor found herself slipping in through the makeshift door of the box, entering on inside, along with the boggart. Feeling the coldness of the room surround her at once, Ginny kept her eyes closed as her petite body began to tremble. Soon, her nostrils began to flare, eyes stinging as her senses were filled with the smell of what could only be described as the scent of death.
Bringing her hands to cover over her face, the brown-eyed girl slowly began to peek through the creases in her fingers. With a gasp, she quickly covered her face once again, tears now stinging in the corners of her eyes. Lying there on the wooden crate's floor was the lying figure of an unconscious Draco Malfoy, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Forced to stand there and look at her worst fear come true for the allotted five minutes - as was the protocal for playing this sick and twisted lottery game - Ginny was forced to do nothing but stand there and cry as she heard the true, living Draco give a laugh from without the box, a sadistic streak of glee showing through him as she herself suffered from within the crate.
Finally, he opened the door to let her out, smiling at her in a most sinister way as he did so. The joy, it seemed, that came from torturing Ginny was vengeful in nature. It was disgusting and twisted, but it was the only thing he felt he could do, all things considered.
After all, the truth was that he loved her - loved her in his own twisted way - and he knew that she loved him, too, despite always going after that Potter, who was more popular, who was a so-called better match for her, with his popularity; his ability to do no wrong - the veritable savior of us all. All of it, as far as Draco was concerned, made him sick to his stomach to even think about it.
As a matter of fact, it all drove him positively mad inside. Every look of longing toward Potter he witnessed from Ginny made his stomach curl; every touch he witnessed between them -if even a mere accidental brush of hand against hand - made his skin crawl. Yes, his very insides would crawl at even the thought of Potter laying his filfty Mudblood hands upon Ginny. What was worse was how Ginny dared to spy at the so-called boy who lived when she thought no one was looking, no doubt daydreaming about the day she could be all his -be all a part of the fanfair - all because Draco wasn't the better choice for her. What an inconsiderate fool she was, all because she was too ashamed to admit even to her own self that she could possibly fall for the likes of someone of the Malfoy bloodline.
Ginny, as was well-known, was a Gryffindor - brave, noble, whatnot. Well ha, it was as good a farce as any. Every touch of hers given to Harry was a touch stolen from Draco, and so here was her punishment: to lay eyes upon the one she really, secretly wanted: dead - stone cold dead, and never coming back.
As a small, silver bell was given a ring outside, signifying that it was time for another subordinate to choose their victim from the slip of papers within the hat, Ginny herself slipped out from the accursed box. There was a look of sickened disgust on her face, just as there always was after these things occurred.
"Same time next month?" Draco called out to her, as Ginny turned and began to make her way back up the hill, heading toward Hogwarts castle, it being well past the hours of bedtime in the dormitories.
Glancing back at Draco, Ginny's eyes met his for maybe half a second at the very most. It was but a fraction of a look, but it still managed to burn through Ginny's heart like a sharp sicle piercing her chest, causing her pulse to skip a beat.
At long last, she gave Draco a curt nod of her head. She knew she'd be back the following month, just as she always had been doing so since her Third Year; just as she always would continue to as long as she stayed at Hogwarts. She couldn't have helped herself from doing so if she'd tried.
When it came down to it, she simply, deeply, (whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not) wanted Draco, and if all the pain that came along with it was a collateral damage of sorts, then so be it.