Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff
Draco Malfoy liked Harry Potter more than he would ever admit to anyone. In a word, Draco was jealous. He had tried to show Harry his love several times, saving his life, protecting him from the agents of the Dark Lord. Then Harry went off and hooked up with a Blood Traitor, a Weasley, hardly worthy of his dirty socks, much less his body. For years he had conspired to kill Ginny Weasley, though each attempt had failed. His most recent attempt on her life had been simple: he instructed Fenrir Greyback to find and kill her during the Dark Lord's assault on Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the hairy oaf had mistaken some other bimbo for the Weasley, failing even to kill the mistaken target.
Draco had been forced to maintain only a friendly relationship with Harry, although he would have enjoyed something much closer. He and Harry slowly became something more than friends, their conversations more intimate, more lover-confidante than friend. Yet Ginevra Molly Weasley stood persistently in the way.
This time he had to do it alone. Nobody else could be trusted. The first step was to separate Harry from his wife, a decidedly facile task. Draco wrote a letter, telling Harry to meet him that day at the Leaky Cauldron, and the plan was in motion.
Just as Harry disapperated from the hill upon which the Burrow lay, Draco materialized in the same spot. He crept stealthily towards the back door of the Burrow, drawing from the sheath on his arm a thin, razor sharp stiletto, engraved with the Dark Mark. Silently he pushed the door open, hoping that no magical alarms were in place. When no warning sounded, he stole through the house, up the stairs and into the small, bright room halfway up. Sitting at the desk, her back to the door, sat Ginny Weasley. She was absorbed in a book, paying no attention to the world off the pages of her novel.
Suddenly she was aware, hand darting to wand, but Draco was quicker. Driven by fear and desperation, Draco swept the blade across her exposed throat, opening a gaping scarlet smile in her neck. As the knife cut, he felt the tendons in her neck give way to the gleaming steel; her veins release their scarlet treasure under its bite. Shocked at his own deed, Draco fell back aghast, watching the dark, rich blood run down her neck, spreading down her white shirt. Her wand dropped from her hand as she reached up, as if in a vain attempt to keep the blood from leaving her. Ginny Weasley fell to the ground, mouth agape, gurgling for the breath of air she could no longer take. There she lay, eyes locked with Draco's. Finally her dry rasps ceased, and Draco stared into sightless eyes, still entranced by the beauty of the blood slowly rolling gently over the floorboards.
At last he tore himself away from the sight of Ginny's lifeless body, and left the house, her blood upon his hand. He disappeared, pushed through a tight black pipe to the Leaky Cauldron, where waited Harry. As Draco entered, Harry stood up, a questioning look upon his face.
"It is done." Draco reported bluntly. "She is dead"
Slipping in to Harry's waiting embrace, Draco felt a passionate, victorious burn in his chest. The ecstasy of love careened through his veins, his hand finding Harry's. Harry was his. Nothing stood in his way now. As grey eyes met green, they knew one thing for certain…
"Draco… We should find a broom-closet."