He's not dead. This is some sort of joke. That was the only thought running through Ginny Weasley's mind as she stood in front of Warner's Funeral Home. Several limousines were lined up to follow the hearse. Her dinged-up Ford looked out of place beside all the other new model cars, but that was to be expected. Draco Malfoy's crowd was the richest of the rich. So why was Ginny here?

She claimed it was to report on the event; she might as well finish what she started a year ago. It was true that she was in charge of writing an article covering the funeral for the Daily Prophet, but that wasn't the real reason she came. She came to see him one last time, to see for herself that he was gone and it wasn't an extravagant stunt as a means to a peaceful retirement.

Some people gave Ginny questioning looks as she walked into the funeral home's small chapel, but most ignored her, which suited her just fine. She was just the reporter…and Draco was her biggest story.

Ginny didn't really know Draco personally while they attended Hogwarts – just that he was a Death Eater who antagonized her friends and family. After the battle, the Malfoys went off the map for a while, until they suddenly reemerged as one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world, Draco leading the way. By that time, Ginny had enjoyed several years playing for the Holyhead Harpies, and after a critical leg injury, she was out of Quidditch permanently. So she had turned to journalism.

Somehow, she'd been assigned a story on Malfoy Incorporated – its unexpected appearance and mysterious owner. It was intended to be an exposé, and Ginny wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to finally get back at Draco for being a horrible git at Hogwarts.

She hadn't known anything then. The Draco Malfoy in the casket in front of her was a completely different person from the boy she knew at school. It didn't take her long to figure that out – it was obvious from the moment she walked in, when he complimented her instead of insulting her.

- twelve months earlier -

"He's in his office," the secretary said dismissively after giving Ginny a quick once-over.

Rude, Ginny thought in annoyance. She hated how all the wealthy people looked at her like she was filth when she was, in fact, plenty rich herself. She expected Malfoy to be rude, but not his entire staff!

Her pleasant mood soured, she rushed into Malfoy Incorporated's executive office, preparing herself for a battle of wits. But instead of attacking her family like he usually did, he simply studied her silently. "Well Ginny, you've grown up," he said after a few moments.

Insults, Ginny expected. Name-calling, she could handle. But a compliment? She would never expect it in a million years. A little too late, she managed to stumble over the word thanks. Fortunately, he didn't smirk about it, but she could see amusement in his eyes at her confusion. There was the Malfoy she knew.

Were they going by first names now, since he called her Ginny? Should she call him Draco? Or would it be more appropriate to call him Mr. Malfoy, seeing as it was more respectful and business-like?

"You're here with the Daily Prophet, right?" Malfoy – Draco – Mr. asked.

"Yes, uh…"

"Just call me Draco," he said, recognizing her silent question.

"Alright Draco." It was weird to say his first name, as if they were friends or something. But if that was what her interviewee wanted, that's what she would do. "Can I ask you a few questions about your company?"

"Sure. Take a seat." They sat down on some nice couches. Ginny turned on her recorder and began. Somehow by the end she was laughing and they were getting along better than she could've ever imagined. And Draco had given her no information she could possibly use against him – not even his personality was at fault now. She'd have to ask around the company and see what dirt they had.

As the days past, however, she didn't find anything. No one had negative opinions of Draco or the company. Either they were all being paid massive amounts of money…or Draco was a really good leader.

- present -

Death suited Draco, Ginny thought morbidly as she looked at his face. He was pale, but not terribly so. His hair was a little long, but styled perfectly. His eyes were closed, but his lips rested ever-so-slightly upward – he looked serene, content with his demise.

He had been so unhappy in the final weeks leading up to his passing. Ginny wondered if anyone else had even noticed. Looking around, she saw Astoria speaking in hushed voices with a large group – all of them former Slytherins, Ginny noted. She seemed in better spirits than a grieving wife ought to be, and didn't spare her late husband a single glance. Nobody seemed to notice Ginny now as she hovered beside the casket.

She had plenty of dirt on the billionaire now – little bits and pieces that came from hard work and late night excursions. But now that she knew who Draco was behind the wall of mystery, she wasn't sure she wanted to expose it. Somewhere along the way, she'd started caring for him as more than just the best story she would ever write. It started one night when she brought some fine wine in after hours in the hopes that Draco's tongue would be a little looser if he had some alcohol. Unfortunately, he had a high tolerance, and by the time he was buzzed she was on her way to tipsy.

- seven months earlier -

"A bottle of Château Rayas?" Draco said in surprise. "I didn't know you could afford such expensive wine."

Ginny rolled her eyes. There was the discrimination she was accustomed to. "I can't afford Domaine Leroy, but I'm not poor, Draco."

His eyebrows raised slightly and there was something like respect in his eyes as he removed the cork. "You're full of surprises, Ginny Weasley. What's the occasion?"

She shrugged, reclining on the couch near his desk. "I've been writing about your company for three months now and I've only had good things to say. That's a pretty big accomplishment, in my opinion."

"What, did you expect people to talk trash about me and give away all my secrets?" Draco asked jokingly, handing Ginny a glass of wine before sitting beside her.

"Well, yes," she admitted. "But I'm a reporter. I'm usually good at uncovering those secrets myself. You cover up very well."

"There's nothing to cover," Draco said with a shrug. He took another sip of wine, and Ginny did the same. "The only person who knows my secrets, the little offences of my past, is me. There's nothing for anyone else to tell."

"And what kinds of secrets do you keep in that mind of yours?" Ginny asked, leaning in.

Draco mirrored her movement, a smirk on his face. "More than you know, Ginny. You're not the only one full of surprises."

And then he closed the gap between them. Ginny knew it was wrong, so wrong, but it didn't matter, because the feeling of his soft lips on her skin made her forget everything else. And so they became lovers, expensive wine forgotten in the heat of the moment.

For Ginny, there was no denying the chemistry. But she knew it was just a means to an end. Because in between the moments of fierce passion, she saw the secrets Draco never told. Like the scars on his back, the Dark Mark on his arm, the pills stashed in his desk. He wasn't a perfect person like he wanted everyone to believe.

She never saw him as broken though, and the moments they shared in his office suite late at night become treasured memories, stories she would never forget. In the twilight hours, it didn't matter that he was married and she was engaged. Nothing was important but the feeling of two bodies pressed together in a rhythm of understanding. And the scary thing was, she began to look forward to it. Her article was on the back of her mind when she walked into Malfoy Incorporated every day.

That was when she knew things needed to change.

- present -

Ginny touched her lips absentmindedly, wondering if she was the last person Draco kissed. Surely he and Astoria were in a loveless relationship if he went behind her back without an issue. Perhaps, Astoria was doing the same thing – she was timelessly beautiful, and certainly there were many suitors interested in her. So why wasn't Draco?

It didn't matter now. She felt a wrench in her heart when she looked down at his peaceful form for what she intended to be the last time. She wouldn't be attending the burial; that felt like an intrusion. As far as anyone else knew, she was just the reporter. And really, that was all she was.

She had half an article typed up at home, titled The Real Draco Malfoy that she had to send to the Daily Prophet by morning. How in the world she finish it? She almost regretted what she had done; maybe if she hadn't upset the balance she and Draco had, he'd still be around. But then again, she had to expose him somehow. It was better if he was gone, that way he wouldn't have to endure the shock and the questions.

Ginny remembered the first time he'd told her a secret. It seemed like years ago, when it was really only a few months.

- four months earlier -

She lay beside him, tracing patterns down his chest. His eyelids were heavy with tiredness and he watched her, eyes half-open. Then slowly, he turned so he was laying on his stomach and she saw his back. There was a long scar there, and Ginny tried to keep the horror from her voice. when she spoke.

"Draco, your back."

His face didn't change, but his eyes showed the pain he must've felt. "My father did that to me," he said softly.

Ginny's eyes were wide as she took that in. His own father did this? He was a monster! No wonder Draco had been a brat at school; he didn't exactly have a good role model. Almost unconsciously, her fingers traced the scar from his shoulder down his spine. She felt his muscles tense beneath her touch, but she didn't stop, leaning down to kiss the pain away.

The secrets came quickly after that – his mother was abused, his father was unfaithful and an alcoholic, Draco took antidepressants, he was forced to marry his wife, he couldn't have children. It was too easy, and Ginny almost felt bad occasionally. The exposé was writing itself while she began to get attached to the victim. What a cliché.

- present -

Ginny pulled her eyes away from the casket and deliberately turned away. She forced herself to walk down the aisle, nodding to the huddle of people to her left before walking out of the funeral home to her car. As she drove home, an idea began to take shape in her mind, something drastically different to what she imagined originally. As soon as she entered her apartment, she tossed out everything she'd written so far. Then, on a clean sheet of paper, she began writing.

Draco Malfoy died of a broken heart.