This story was written for scubarang's prompt in The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Winter 2010. It won the award for best characterisation of Draco. Thanks to all who supported my fic.

Draco Malfoy took a lazy drag of his cigarette and glanced down at the September edition of The Magical Monthly – a magazine that was as respected as it was impossible to have oneself featured in. A very faint sneer curled his lips as he stared at the cover where the image of a red-haired woman was smiling and accepting an award for her contribution to the magical community.

"So the little weasel has broken free of her rags," he observed, letting out a cloud of smoke as he exhaled, his grey eyes glinting with a humourless smile.

Without a word, he tossed the magazine away from him and extinguished his cigarette on the ashtray. He then shrugged on his coat and exited the room, locking the doors with his wand.

On the cover of the The Magical Monthly, the redhead continued to smile and bow her head in a charming display of modesty as the black and white figures around her clapped enthusiastically in her honour.

Her name was Ginny Weasley, and she had just become the most famous witch in the magical world.

X

"Oh, Mr Malfoy, did you hear—"

"Yes," Draco growled, brushing past the blathering twit hopping up and down beside him as he stepped out of the elevator.

"I hear she used to be an associate of sorts with you. Did you ever—"

"No," he said shortly, already guessing what the question was going to be and not really caring if he was wrong either way. A firm 'no' usually answered most questions in his books.

A man with curly black hair suddenly appeared in front of him. "Hey, Malfoy, did you see The Magical Mo—"

Draco's eyes narrowed, effectively silencing his co-worker, who was not immune to the sheer formidability of that cold look. The curly-haired man instinctively clutched the cup in his hand more tightly, forcing coffee to spill over the sides, though neither he nor the blond spared so much as a glance for the steadily spilling – and probably boiling – liquid dripping down his hand and on to the floor.

"I don't think you want to finish that sentence, do you?" Draco suggested in a soft, dangerous voice.

"N-no, sir," the curly-haired man stuttered, too late realising his mistake.

Draco lost the threatening gleam in his eyes, and then his gaze flickered to the warped cup of coffee, which even now was dripping with the strong-scented drink. "Do clean yourself up, Thompson," he said, lifting a disparaging eyebrow. "You're getting coffee all over the carpet."

"Y-yes, sir. R-right away, sir."

The blond waited long enough to see that his orders were being followed and then stalked off towards a small office at the rear end of the building. A plaque bearing the words 'Archives' was stamped onto the door in gold lettering. Draco entered the room without knocking and, for the first time that day, allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips as his eyes fell on the brunet hunched over the desk, typing furiously away at an archaic looking Muggle computer – it had been magically modified to allow it to work without electricity.

"Don't you ever take breaks, Theo?" Draco remarked, dropping his body with rare grace into the hard-back chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Not all of us are paid to do nothing," Theodore retorted, not lifting his face and still continuing to type.

Draco rolled his eyes, but it appeared that such comments were a common occurrence between he and the archivist, for he didn't say anything cutting in reply as he might have done had it been someone else.

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sound being the constant tap, tap of the brunet's fingers skipping along the keyboard. Draco picked up a quill from the desk and began twirling it round in his hand.

"Did you see the latest edition of The Magical Monthly?" he asked after a moment.

His tone and expression suggested that he was not particularly interested in the answer – as if he were asking about nothing more commonplace than the weather and was simply trying to make conversation. Theodore Nott, however, was not deceived, and finally lifted his face to stare at his friend.

"Yes, I did," he responded, meeting Draco's gaze steadily. "I don't suppose I need to ask what article caught your interest."

Draco made a show of trying to keep up his disinterested act, but then an exasperated breath escaped his lips, ruining the effect.

"Everyone is raving about her," he muttered, placing the quill back on the desk, a faint sneer twisting his normally handsome features. "From the moment I left my house this morning, I've had nothing but 'Oh, Malfoy, did you see that Ginny Weasley won an award for that spell she created?' And, 'Oh, Malfoy, don't you think Ginny Weasley is just so talented.'" He gave a dry laugh. "Someone actually asked me if I would be able to get her autograph for him since I went to school with her."

Theodore sighed and removed his glasses, sitting them carefully on the desk. "Jealous, Draco?" he asked, neither tauntingly nor maliciously. He simply wanted to establish a fact, as was his way.

"I'm not jealous," Draco said flatly. "I'm annoyed."

"Why, because she did what you could not?"

Draco rolled his eyes and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a box of already rolled Dragon Flame cigarettes – one of which he slipped into his mouth. "I never had ambitions to create a love spell," he said contemptuously, lighting his cigarette with his wand and taking a satisfied puff.

The cigarette was suddenly snatched out of his mouth. "Damn it, Draco," Theodore exclaimed, stubbing the cigarette out on an ashtray he kept for occasions such as this. "How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke those bloody death sticks of yours in here; you'll ruin the archives!"

"I forgot," the blond sighed, casting an unapologetic look at the shelves of parchment and old records stored in the room.

"Well, don't forget," was the terse reply. There was a pause, and then Theodore frowned. "I thought you had quit smoking, anyway."

Draco shrugged. "I'll quit tomorrow."

"That's what you always say," Theodore muttered, his frown deepening.

Draco decided this conversation was getting into dangerous territory and promptly steered it back to more important matters: like why Ginny Weasley was being praised for her ridiculous love spell.

"I mean, how do they even know it works?" Draco demanded, several minutes of one-sided complaining later. "It's supposed to stop someone from falling in love against their wishes, right? But it still works like a love potion. So how do they even know it is stopping someone from falling in love against their wishes if these people are still falling in love?"

Theo sighed and perched his glasses back on his nose. "I don't know, Draco. Why don't you ask her yourself? She's holding a convention today at the Arlington Hall. I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear all about your concerns."

Draco was quick to pick up on the sarcastic bite to this comment and raised his eyebrow at his friend. "Bored of me, Theo?" he asked, amusement glinting in his grey eyes.

Theodore had to laugh. "You've been moaning to me about Ginny Weasley for the past twenty minutes. What do you think?"

"It's because you're such a good listener, darling."

Theodore merely rolled his eyes. "Go away, Draco."

The blond smiled, but stood up from his chair all the same. "Very well, Hermit. I'll leave you to your records in peace."

"Good."

Draco paused at the door. "You know, I have a hankering to go to this convention, after all. Did you say it was at the Arlington Hall?"

"Yes – at seven o' clock."

"Thank you."

Theodore frowned, glancing up at his friend through his keen hazel eyes. "You're not going to cause any mischief, are you?"

"Of course not," Draco said sagely. "I'm simply going to do as you suggested."

"What I suggested? I never suggested anything."

"You must be going senile, old friend. I specifically remember you telling me to take my concerns to our so-talented Miss Weasley. And that, Theo, is exactly what I plan to do."

"Hold on a minute—" Theodore began, but the door had already clicked shut by then, leaving the brunet once again alone with his archives.

Theodore sighed and glanced at the ashtray on his desk, where the tip of Draco's commandeered cigarette could still be seen smoking faintly.

"This is not going to go well," he muttered to the empty room, remembering the last time his friend had got caught up with Ginny Weasley. "This is not going to go well at all."

scubarang's Prompt #3

Basic premise: Ginny becomes famous for inventing a love spell that ensures people don't fall in love against their wishes. You can decide if this means it merely enhances what is already there or any other way you'd like to twist the willingness to be loved aspect.

Must haves: Draco must be interested in either the spell (how it works) or in promoting it to benefit himself.

No-no's: No Harry as love interest, though Ginny and Draco don't have to be in love here, either.

Rating range: Any rating is fine, an NC-17 wouldn't be amiss here.

Bonus points: If Draco falls for Ginny thinking it's the spell, but it's actually just him.