DISCLAIMER: All characters, settings, and objects that look familiar belong to J.K. Rowling. Please do not sue me. I have nothing.
This is just some silly, fun Friday the 13th and Valentine's Day fun. Forgive me for any errors, it's late, and I just spent five minutes repeatedly opening the calculator app on my phone instead of the alarm clock.
The cramped lift slowly trudged up to the fifth floor of the tallest building in Diagon Alley on a crisp, cool Monday morning. One woman stood in the middle of the huddle, her foot rapping impatiently against the ground. With a quiet ding, the gates eventually retracted to let the leftover occupants out. Ginny Weasley grimly walked out of the lift, brushing aside the shiny red tinsel that hung in the door of the lift with exasperation, her shiny black heels clicking and clacking with urgency as walked across the floor to her office. She had carefully plastered on a blank expression, though a grimace was threatening to break through at the sight before her.
Streamers made up of pink and red hearts were strung across all of the walls of the office floor, flashing as red hearts turned pink and pink hearts turned red. At the receptionist's desk there were extravagant bouquets made up of a variety of flowers including red carnations, white hyacinths, and pink roses. Ginny kept swatting away the silly tiny snowflake shaped doilies that were showering down on the office from the ceiling. How she wanted to curse the insipid intern that came up with this oh so brilliant idea of decorating The Daily Prophet office building for Valentine's Day. He must have been some long lost relative of Gilderoy Lockhart's; it was giving her mortifying flashbacks from her first year at Hogwarts.
Ginny brushed off the snowflakes that clung to her navy blue suit as finally reached her office. She slapped that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet onto her dark lacquered desk as she reached over to adjust her shiny, gold name plate that read "Ginevra Weasley, Senior Quidditch Correspondent". She smiled fondly at the title, still not quite believing that she had managed to attain a high position at the paper. After having a prolific career as a Holyhead Harpies Chaser for six years straight out of Hogwarts, Ginny took up the opportunity to join The Daily Prophet as a Quidditch Correspondent. A little less than a year ago, she was promoted to Senior Correspondent at the unripe age of twenty-seven. Not only was she given the most important assignments, she was also responsible for editing pieces. What was especially new to her, however, was the seniority she had over the others in her department. For the majority of her life, she was known as the littlest Weasley. Or the youngest Weasley. Or the girl Weasley. Or insert-a-brother's-name-here sister.
It was a little past eleven o'clock when Ginny saw several memos whizz over to her desk, most notably a hot pink bird shaped one sticking out conspicuously among the duller shaded airplane memos. Her shapely eyebrows shot up in shock, her eyes growing larger than usual. The worst part of this ridiculous Valentine's Day from hell were the anonymous valentines that were being sent around. The hot pink message flapped impatiently in front of her while she took as long as she could reading the other memos to prolong her impending doom. Seven messages later, Ginny plucked the irritating bird from the air. It unfolded into the shape of a heart and she braced herself for the message to be read aloud. It reminded Ginny of a Howler, but rather than it yelling at her angrily in a shrill manner, the startling male voice sounded silky and dreamy, truly as if it were attempting to woo her. The charm disguised the secret admirer's voice, which Ginny was eternally grateful for. And then it began reciting the words within:
Your bum is plump like a tomato,
I'm thankful that you don't look like a potato.
Your hair is blinding like a sunset,
I anticipate your voice rising an octet.
As the voice faded away, the paper gracefully fell onto her desk, merely becoming a regular piece of hot pink heart shaped paper. At least the heart memos came attached with a piece of chocolate. She nibbled on it thoughtfully as she analyzed the familiar crisp, neat, but almost lazy script that the poem was written in. She abruptly stood up and peeked out of the door, ignoring the snickers of her colleagues, who had undoubtedly overheard. The redhead mentally kicked herself for keeping her office door wide open. There was no time to be embarrassed when Ginny had a bone to pick with a certain someone. Her eyes zeroed in on a familiar face in the break room across the way.
Ginny marched over to the break room and they briefly made eye contact. He gave her a quick wink which only incensed her further. With a flip of her crimson locks that fell well past her shoulders, she haughtily stomped over to the coffee machine. The steam of the piping hot coffee languidly hung in the air in her mug. Ginny turned to identify her mystery admirer, about to let him have it, when she saw he had already returned back to his conversation.
She stewed as she silently sipped on her coffee. The offender was one Draco Malfoy, Junior Sports Correspondent of The Daily Prophet. He joined a couple of months after her most recent promotion, much to her surprise and infuriation. This was the one place Ginny could truly be herself, and Draco sought every opportunity he could to take the mickey out of her. Which resulted in Ginny holding her relishing seniority over his head. She never fully grasped why Draco had ended up working at the newspaper. Draco Malfoy had more money than most of the people in Wizarding Britain combined and had no need for a job at all. He just barely met his deadlines and was frequently late. And those were the days that Draco deigned to show up in person. But, the worst part of it all was that the sodding git was actually rather good at writing. His Quidditch knowledge was extensive and his analysis was usually spot on. Who knew that Draco Malfoy had a way with words?
While the bitter coffee trickled down her throat, Ginny pondered some more on the specimen in front of her, ignoring the burning sensation down her esophagus. Though he was paying no mind at all to Ginny Weasley, she could see a challenging glint in his stunning clear, grey eyes while his lips were curled into the slightest smirk while conversed with one of their colleagues. Draco leaned back in his chair arrogantly, his light blue oxford shirt rolled up to the elbows with the top button casually unbuttoned which was paired with black slacks. His angular but attractive face nodded in agreement with his fellow conversationalist but Ginny knew he was waiting for her response.
Suddenly, Ginny set her mug down as the sudden onslaught of an epiphany washed over her like an ocean wave. The words of that silly poem kept ringing in her ears. He wanted Ginny to retaliate. Her typical response was in true Weasley fashion – to yell, to insult, to threaten alternatively with fists and hexes, all the while her face turning beet red. No, no, she decided, bringing the mug once again to her mouth with both hands, a mischievous smirk appearing on her own face. There would be no entertaining row for the rest of the office to whisper about around the water cooler. This time, Ginny was going to get even. And she knew just the way to do it.
After an urgent Floo call to one of her brothers, a packaged arrived for her via a courier dressed in garish magenta robes. As the courier disappeared behind the gates of the lift, Ginny absent-mindedly wondered why her brothers had chosen such a ridiculous shade that clashed considerably with their own carrot tops. She exhaled deeply, dousing all unimportant thoughts. There was no time for distractions at this moment. Glancing at her wristwatch, it was half past two. It was usually around this time that Draco stepped out of his office for a break.
As nonchalantly as she could, Ginny breezed past Draco's office. This would have been effortless had it not been for the rather large object wrapped in nondescript brown paper she was clutching under her arm. With a sigh of relief, it was empty like she had predicted. The redhead tiptoed in, shutting and locking the door with a wave of her wand. The door, which was made of glass, as was that entire side of the wall, gave too much away. Rummaging around in the pocket of her pants, her hand returned with her wand. Tapping it against the doorway wall, the glass promptly frosted, with the rest of the cubicles laid out on the floor becoming a smudged blur.
She set the package down against his nearly spotless desk. Ginny still wasn't sure how Draco managed to swindle an office out of the Prophet with his lesser title, but she imagined it had something to do with that magnificent donation that appeared in the paper the very next day bestowed by the Malfoy family. That pompous ferret. At least she could revel in the fact that her office was bigger than his. She had a better view than the awkward corner where two different shaded brick buildings met that reflected through his. He had few personal belongings in the office and it was almost eerie how organized it was. A neat shelf of books were to the right of her with a framed picture of himself. Yes, himself. Ginny rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched upwards. He was the most self-centered person she knew.
Which brought her back to her original purpose. Turning to her left, there was a mirror dangling innocently on the wall. It sparkled as it shone in its spotlessness. It had an ornate gold frame around it, made up of etched dragons and serpents. Typical, she thought with a roll of her eyes. She unwrapped the package, quickly vanishing the nondescript paper. In it was a rectangular looking glass that was the exact same size as the one in the frame. A few more waves and the original mirror glided out of its frame. Ginny calmly but tensely inserted the one that arrived by way of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. She took a few steps back, triumphantly admiring her handiwork, the mirror reflected her evil grin back.
Her eyes glanced at the clock nestled atop his door. Seven minutes had passed, and he would be back any minute now. Returning the glass wall to its clear and unfrosted state, Ginny snuck out of the room as nonchalantly as she could and scampered back to her own desk. Once she was sitting in her own comfortable though slightly worn armchair, she grinned as she stared out the window. Ginny watched the citizens of Wizarding Britain stroll through the cobblestoned path of Diagon Alley beneath the murky clouds. However, her mind was far, far away. Still in Draco's office, in fact, with that mirror. The looking glass was no ordinary mirror. It was a Weasley product, known as the Bad Luck Mirror (One look, and their entire world will shatter!). Sure, the name wasn't exactly catchy, but it got the job done. Charmed with a victim's name, it would disintegrate into hundreds of tiny, gleaming shards the minute the victim decided to take a look at their reflection.
It was nearly fifteen minutes when Ginny heard a crash followed by an angry yelp two doors down. The redhead had to bite her cheek and remain stoic as possible while she continued to edit an article. What she really wanted to do was throw her head back in laughter at Draco's likely misery. Being a descendant of one of the oldest Wizarding families meant no doubt that he was superstitious. Breaking a mirror was seven years of bad luck. She had decided to fight fire with fire. If Draco Malfoy was going to mess with her, then Ginny Weasley was going to fight back.
As her own glass door was wide open, Ginny saw the tall, blond man pass by her office angrily. He kept running his hands through his usually impeccably styled hair to let any remaining shards fall out. She tried her hardest not to laugh when several pieces hit the floor from his silky, platinum crown. At his cheeks, two faint pink circles formed. She hadn't figured out whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, but she was enjoying it nonetheless. Ginny quickly held the parchment up to hide her face to control the laughter that was threatening to burst through.
That ought to take care of that.
She should not have been surprised that another Valentine memo kept trying to ram into her forehead, almost violently, that Tuesday afternoon. And just when Ginny was about to sink her teeth into her favorite sandwich from the deli across the street. With a frown, she set the stacked sandwich down and grabbed the paper before it left a nasty paper cut on her forehead. The same voice resounded through her office:
Her eyes are as brown as an unwrapped Chocolate Frog,
Her freckles speckle her alabaster skin.
I regret to say I'm rather keen,
Because Weasley is my Queen.
If it was possible, Ginny was more mortified than the previous day. How dare Draco use her embarrassing memories from the past to attempt to one up her? She yanked the chocolate frog off of the parchment and angrily bit its head off. Chewing with frustration, she grabbed her well-used, black leather notebook. It was the little book that she kept all of her appointments and important bits of information for future stories. Ginny flipped through the pages distractedly, until she reached a section in the notebook. Her light pink lacquered nail trailed down the list until she settled on a meeting that stood out to her. She looked over to her left and saw a garment bag hanging along with a pair of brand new heels. A sudden thought flashed across her mind. An evil grin spread across her face. Plan Strike the Fear in Draco Malfoy 2.0 would be in motion later that afternoon.
It was about four in the afternoon when Ginny jovially trotted into Draco's office. Thankfully, it didn't look odd that a Weasley would walk into a Malfoy's office of her own volition because of the nature of their jobs. Only in her hands was that pair of brand new shoes.
Not bothering to knock on Draco's door, which was ajar, she welcomed herself in. Draco looked up at her with a tentative blank expression from the parchment that he had been scrawling on. Ginny didn't miss the flash of unease that flickered on his face when she first stuck her foot in the door. He must have realized that she had gotten today's valentine by now.
While trying to plot her revenge in response to the memo, another superstition came back to her. Bad luck would come to the person who places brand new shoes on a table, resulting in some sort of family conflict. How could she resist this one when her shoes were sparkling mischievously for her, itching to be picked up?
The only problem was getting Draco to actually put her shoes on the table. He had to be the one doing it since it needed to result in his own bad luck. However, he unfortunately wasn't a moron, either. Really, how was it fair that he was rich, good-looking, a pretty decent writer, and had a brain? Ginny shook her head as she got sidetracked in her thoughts. Draco simply wouldn't accept her shoes and place them on the table. And so, she had to come up with some sort of plan that would force him to place the high heels atop his desk.
"Did you come here for something Weasley or did you merely come to ogle at me?" Draco drawled with a smirk. "I mean, I know I am irresistible."
Ginny rolled her eyes irritably, partially at his unoriginal comment and because she was caught gazing at him in concentration with narrowed eyes. And then, as if a candle had been lit within, an idea came to her. She inched her way closer into the office and scrambled forward. If anything, she had become a good actress in her time, from wrapping her brothers around her finger to convincingly get herself out of confrontations with her mother, even when she was standing there red-handed.
So she pretended to trip, one foot wedging itself into the other. In the shuffle, one of the heels began hurling its way toward a typewriter sitting on the table behind him which was against the window. Judging from its appearance, Ginny reasoned that it was an antique and thus incredibly expensive. The gleaming pewter typewriter shone in the sun, as did the ornate flourishes accenting the machine, no doubt made of real gold. She simply threw the other shoe on the desk, hoping that things would turn out the way she had envisioned in her mind.
Draco's eyes comically widened in panic as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He pushed his chair back and leaped to his right. Just as Ginny had prayed, his old Quidditch reflexes were still sharp. Draco easily caught the stiletto in his hands and dropped it next to its partner waiting on his desk. Draco's lips tightened and steely eyes narrowed at her in dismay as he ran a hand through his hair.
"What the hell, Weasley?!"
Ginny could sense the edge of displeasure in his tone. "Now, now Malfoy, that's no way to talk to your superior."
"I will talk to whomever I want in any way I want when they're about to damage my property," he retorted, his charcoal irises flashing.
She continued to meet his annoyed gaze, though it was a struggle not to break contact. Draco's eyes were both stunning but unnerving all at once. Not only was that typewriter an incredibly expensive antique, it was also a present from his mother as a congratulatory gift when he got the job. But it's not like she destroyed it, Ginny reasoned, he should just be appreciative about that.
"It was an accident."
"You must have been a shit Chaser then," Draco snorted, looking down to thumb through the sheets of parchment.
"I was not!" Now it was Ginny's amber eyes that were flashing angrily. "You know my record! During my last season I was…"
The redhead stopped short, suddenly realizing she was eating out of the palm of his hand. Draco had half-heartedly insulted her just to get a rise out of Ginny, once again. And as a Weasley she easily took the bait. There was no time to bore him with statistics, there was revenge to be served.
"So, Malfoy, what do you think of my new shoes?" Ginny abruptly asked innocently. She clasped her hands behind her pencil skirt as she waited for him to respond.
Draco gave them a once over, looking them up and down. They were made of a sheer black material with rhinestones twinkling like stars on the night sky, and with a simple incantation recommended by the cobblers, the rhinestones would form any constellation at the spell caster's choosing. The edges of the heel was lined with a sterling silver. It was a little flashier than what she was used to, but she loved how sultry they made her look and feel once she placed her feet on the surprisingly comfortable soles. But however much she loved those stilettos, she was going to revel in the moment that Draco would realize what he had done. Surely he would recognize the crime he had just committed against himself. It would serve him right for continuing this ridiculous game.
He then looked up, meeting her determined brown gaze with a nonchalant grey stare. "They're nothing to write home about," Draco commented uninterestedly. As if nothing was amiss, his blond head bent back down, all attention focused on the parchment he was carefully focusing his attention to the parchments he was meticulously writing on.
Ginny sputtered incoherently. How had not seen what he had just done? How was he staying calm when he had just brought himself an abundance of bad luck? It was a very common superstition! Moreover, she glared angrily at his silvery crown at his dismissal of her treasured footwear. How dare he say her newest prized possessions were "nothing to write home about"? They were gorgeous shoes, and even a man like him should have recognized that.
With a final angry huff that came out as a strained snarl, Ginny snatched the shoes off of his desk and silently sauntered out of his office. She took great effort to slam the door behind her, hearing it clatter against the frame as she headed back to her own desk.
What Ginny Weasley missed was the massive grin that erupted on Draco's fair face once she walked out.
She really shouldn't have been surprised that yet another hot pink fowl shaped memo zoomed its way into her office late that Wednesday morning. After all, Ginny hadn't ended up ruffling Malfoy's feathers much to her chagrin, which in turn did not end the silly war that he had declared. Okay, so perhaps Ginny had declared war while Draco was just trying to get a laugh, but that was semantics.
Ginny prolonged the embarrassment as long as she could by stalling the rosy memo. Carrying on as if nothing was practically vibrating next to her ear, she continued editing one of her latest pieces. The memo was going to open itself anyway, so why bother?
The garbled voice which she was sure belonged to Draco vibrated against the walls of the office. Though it sounded as dreamy and languid as ever, there seemed to be a sense of urgency in his voice. And then she realized why upon hearing the message:
Roses are red,
Violets aren't really blue,
I'm running behind on a deadline,
But here's another poem for you.
She almost choked on the chocolate frog that was nearly halfway down her throat. Clumsily reaching out for her coffee mug, she quickly drained it of its liquid in a heated effort to dislodge the confection from her throat. Ginny took a deep breath and sighed, tucking loose strands of her scarlet locks behind her ear. That lazy jerk! Why was she so angry? At least this time the poem wasn't as embarrassing as the other two. There were no attempts to make her blush Weasley red or remind her of more mortifying times. But at least he had put effort in the other two poems!
How dare he not even bother with this one at all? If you're going to do something, you need to put your whole effort into it, she reasoned irately. After all, what was the point of specifically delivering a message to someone that you secretly – or not so secretly – admire? This poem could have been for anyone. How was she supposed to know it was for her? It wasn't even special.
The clock on her wall pointed to lunch and she eagerly dropped her quill and grabbed her purse from the hook. As she made her way down to the cafeteria, she reviewed her strange thought process. Any other person would have thought she was completely mental. First, she was angry at his questionably creative, though horrible, poems, but now she was mad that he had reeled it back? Ginny would have laughed at herself too in any other situation, but it didn't make her feelings lessen.
By now she was halfway done with the sandwich she had purchased. It was a pathetic corned beef sandwich, but she wasn't really paying attention to it anyway. Something silvery caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see that Draco was heading towards her, smirk in tow.
He turned the chair across from her around, with the back of the chair leaning against the table. Draco easily slid onto the chair, straddling it. He had apparently already finished his lunch, leaving him with only a bottle of pumpkin juice to fiddle with. It was evident that he had come to check on Ginny's despair. Just to make sure she was still as incensed as ever.
"You're losing your touch, you know," Ginny greeted as she took another large bite out of her sandwich.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I merely came to ask you about the meeting tomorrow," Draco said innocently, his face showing no hint of recognition as to what she was talking about.
"You could have at least tried harder with that last one, Malfoy," repeated Ginny firmly. He continued to twirl the bottle around the table, though said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed at him but soon got caught up with the bottle of pumpkin juice. It was then that Ginny saw that the salt shaker, which was filled to the brim, was precariously close to the juice bottle. Of course! Her eyes glittered in realization. It was the oldest superstition in the book: to spill salt at the table. Though her wand was in her pocket, she could do little spurts of wandless magic, if Ginny focused all of her magical energy into it. While Draco's mouth had opened to speak, she paid no mind to the words flowing out of his mouth. Instead, she knit her brows in concentration, giving sole attention to the salt shaker.
It was a few centimeters away from the bottle at this point. Willing all of the magic that flowed through her veins, she felt a sudden surge of magic concentrating in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, the shaker violently collided with the bottle, causing it to topple over. The white mineral spilled out onto the dark purple table, sparkling from the artificial skylight from the cafeteria ceiling. It worked!
Ginny grinned victoriously, proud that her effort had paid off. She looked up expecting to see Draco's bugged eyes looking at her in horror. Instead, she looked up to see him looking at her in puzzlement, his lips slightly parted.
"Weasley? Earth to Weasley? Did you even hear what I asked you?" Draco called out, snapping his long fingers in front of her face.
Ginny suddenly blinked, coming back to reality. "Huh?"
"I said, what time is the Massachusetts meeting tomorrow? There's that bleeding Valentine's Day party and I'd like to avoid it if I can," he said, unscrewing the cap of the bottle. Draco took a hearty swig of the juice.
Though she was irritated that he not even batted an eyelash at the catastrophe she had just created, Ginny was more miffed about the stupid Valentine's party tomorrow evening. Because the holiday fell on a Saturday this year, the office felt compelled to host an exciting shindig on Friday. That meant the alcohol could flow freely, as most of them needn't come into the office the next day. But that meant even more obnoxious decorations and nosier than usual co-workers. At least there would be delicious food, Ginny reasoned.
She turned to the side, reaching around the back of her chair to fish her leather appointment book out of the bag. She flipped to the current week and saw that their meeting would run late into the night. The Daily Prophet coordinated their meetings with other teams in different time zones.
"It's at 7 o'clock in the evening," Ginny said with a sigh once she had returned the book to her purse.
"Damn it. That means we'll have to attend that stupid party," Draco scowled. "Why do we have to accommodate for the Americans? After all, they're eight hours behind. They should fit us into their schedules. No one gave a flying fig about them three years ago."
"That was until they made it to the semifinals during the last Quidditch World Cup. Talk about the upset of the century," Ginny answered bitterly. It had cost the British league their spot in the semifinals. She popped the last piece of her sandwich into her mouth and easily levitated her trash to the rubbish bin. Without another word, she scooped up her belongings and made her way back to the floor to work.
Though it was Friday the thirteenth, Ginny woke up extra early, feeling refreshed and anew. While finalizing her notes for the meeting that was now later that day, she knew the perfect way to get back at Draco. Before going to bed, she came up with a plan of action and laid out all of her weapons and armory out that night, ready to be put on the next morning.
And by weapons, she meant her wand and cosmetics. By armory, she picked out the sultriest outfit she could find that was within the professional parameters. Their editor in chief would most definitely not be in the office that day, as he rarely appeared on weekends, and especially at silly company events like this. This left Ginny to her own devices, and her own dastardly plans.
Ginny took extra care to give her lustrous scarlet hair extra sheen. For the time being, she put her hair up, intentionally leaving several strands to frame her face. She applied more makeup than she usually did, with extra attention to her eyelashes and lips. Putting on her clothing and shoes, Ginny grinned evilly at the sight before her. This would put him in his place.
In other words, she was now choosing to fight fire with honey. If Draco Malfoy wanted to make her uncomfortable by indirectly flirting with her, then she would reciprocate in tenfold. Ask and you shall receive. That bum he commented on? Well, that would look inviting in the ebony skirt whose length bordered on inappropriate for an office setting. She had taken care to ensure that her hair would blind him like the sunset he had compared it to. Her dark brown eyes were enhanced by the cosmetics applied around them, revealing their rich chocolate hue. Ginny specifically picked an emerald button down shirt that clung against her generous breasts, and calculatingly left a few of the top buttons undone, revealing more cleavage than she probably should have at work.
She grabbed her briefcase and purse, Disapparating into Diagon Alley with a smirk to rival Draco Malfoy's. Ginny Weasley knew she looked like a complete tart, but she didn't mind, at least not in this instance. Most of their colleagues wouldn't have noticed anyway. They would cut the workday off as early as possible due to the promise of copious amounts of free alcohol and food. The drunken bastards would have no idea what was happening behind the scenes.
Ginny made sure to arrive to the office a little earlier than usual to take advantage of the element of surprise. She went through the memos that were already hovering impatiently over her desk. For the first time that week, there was no valentine's memo from Draco. Perhaps he had conceded and she had won the battle? She shook her head. It was more likely that he hadn't arrived yet to torture her once more. He was late more often than not. With a look at today's schedule of meetings, she surmised that she might as well get to work since she had double the amount of things get through today, between actual work and her silly plots.
A few hours later, Ginny poked her head out of her office and saw Draco walking down the corridor in her direction. Scrambling back to her desk, she quickly grabbed a large stack of files and adjusted her outfit. She calmly walked down the corridor towards him. At less than a foot away from him, she pretended to drop her files onto the ground, and an audible, exaggerated gasp left her rouged lips. Bending down to pick up the mess in front of her, Ginny made sure that her derriere was in full view of him. Despite being off of the Quidditch Pitch for several years, she maintained her athletic physique, and as such her firm bum.
Draco was behind her now, momentarily frozen until he bent down to assist her. Her russet eyes met his mercurial ones. Though she mostly saw irritation in his expression, there was a hint of something else. Her eyes crinkled mischievously in recognition. She gave him a knowing wink. Draco's eyes widened and he abruptly stood up as did she.
Ginny smiled at him as he refused to make eye contact with her. Shoving the rest of the files in her hand, he stomped away muttering, "Watch where you're going, Weasley."
She grinned. Draco Malfoy had most definitely been checking out her arse.
Later that afternoon after grabbing a salad from the cafeteria, Ginny set to finalizing her portion of the interview questions and cross-referencing the statistical analysis one of the interns had assembled. She needed to deliver this to Draco since they were working on the assignment together. It would be too easy and not as much fun to send it off in the usual airplane memo. Hopping out of her seat, she eagerly picked up the documents and walked two doors down to Draco's office with a spring in her step.
His door was wide open, so she saw no reason to knock. He had dozens of sheets of parchment sprawled all across his desk and he was hard at work marking them up with red ink. Ginny let a small smile escape as she thought how endearing Draco looked concentrating carefully on his work. Focus, Ginny, focus! Now was not the time to get preoccupied! She had a mission to complete.
She marched right up to him, and slapped the papers down onto his desk. Apparently unruffled, Draco didn't even bother looking up at her. She rolled her eyes and placed her palms against his desk, leaning forward. Ginny cleared her throat and waited expectantly.
Draco sighed and set his expensive falcon feather quill down. He looked up begrudgingly. "What else do you want, Weasley?"
"Oh, I just wanted to remind you about our meeting tonight. 7 o'clock sharp, don't forget," Ginny replied innocently. Her eyes gleamed when she saw that Draco's eyes never did end up meeting hers fully. Instead they rested on the generous view of her ample breasts. Men are too easy, Ginny thought to herself with a wry grin. She didn't miss how his sharp jawline tensed while his lips slightly parted in shock. She half expected his brain to ooze out of his ears, because that was the unmasked expression sitting on Draco's face.
Ginny smugly cleared her throat again.
Reluctantly, Draco shook his head and properly looked up at her, though his eyes were waging an internal battle in order to wander downwards.
"What?"
"Seven P.M. My office. You better not be late, Malfoy," Ginny said with finality. Before he could get the last word, she turned on her heel and walked out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Draco alone to ponder over what just happened.
It was ten minutes to seven, and Ginny was more than thrilled to escape into her office to get set up for the meeting, even if she did enjoy those delectable red velvet cupcakes out on the buffet table. The party had been in full swing for at least two hours now, and the crowd was beginning to get rowdy. Someone had spiked the blood orange punch with something much stronger than Firewhisky, and she did not want to witness what would happen next, if last year's Christmas party was anything to go by.
She ran a hand over her hair and grabbed her wand to adjust the two comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. Just as she grabbed a notepad and her Recording Quill, the doorknob turned and Draco strolled in, quickly shutting the door behind him to silence the eardrum bursting music and their sloshed coworkers.
As he sat down on one of the chairs, Ginny took her wand out of her pocket and wordlessly locked the door. It shut with a click, which didn't go unnoticed by Draco. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly but said nothing.
"We don't need those morons bursting into this meeting," Ginny explained with a faintly nervous smile. While Draco was perusing his own notes, she whispered another spell at the door, frosting it like she had a few days ago.
She sat down next to him and just then the fireplace roared to life. A floating head of a middle aged man with graying brunette hair looked up at them, his deep blue eyes smiling at them. It was Maximus Brankovitch the Third, former Seeker of the Fitchburg Finches and now Head Coach.
"Good evening, Miss Weasley," Maximus greeted jovially. He turned to Draco and said, "And..?"
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Draco replied a little more gruffly than necessary. Ginny resisted the urge to laugh. It was still refreshing every time an important Quidditch figure recognized her and not Malfoy. It seemed his name wasn't known ALL over the world as he arrogantly assumed.
"Nice to meet you," Maximus replied. "Shall we get to business?"
"Of course, Mr. Brankovitch," Ginny agreed warmly and pulled out her typed up parchment.
"You can call me Maximus," the coach said with very obvious wink. Ginny noticed Draco tensing out of the corner of her eye.
"Of course, Maximus, you can call me Ginevra," Ginny said with a coy giggle, intentionally egging him on. She then began to go through the questions about the future of the Finchburg Finches and their upcoming match with the Sweetwater All-Stars.
When it came time for Draco to lead the interview, Ginny excused herself and returned her now filled notepad to her desk. As the two men continued conversing, she slinked behind the armchair she had previously been sitting in. Ginny was out of the coach's line of vision, but directly in front of Draco's since the chairs were facing each other. She opened a couple more of her buttons of her shirt to reveal her dark grey bra with gold lace trim. Reaching up, she let her hair down, letting the crimson curls cascade in loose waves down her back.
Midway through his sentence, Draco stopped, looking at her in shock, awe, and worry. Shocked because this was out of the ordinary for Ginny to do. Awed because she looked absolutely delectable. And worried because she was clearly not adhering to the pamphlet that Human Resources had taken great care to give the office over a month ago. He involuntarily gulped.
"Mister Malfoy? Is everything alright?" Maximus called out from the fireplace.
Draco looked contemplative for a moment, almost as if he was waging an internal battle with himself. A few moments later, he reached for the wand inside of his work robe pocket and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Damn Nargles," and promptly disconnected the Floo call.
Before she knew it Draco was next to her and brought his large hands to the sides of her face, her blouse completely opened by now. Her own hands were shaking slightly, betraying the cool demeanor she displayed, but attempted to nimbly unloosen his tie. With urgency, he crushed his lips on top of hers. Buttons suddenly forgotten, Ginny's arms wrapped around his neck and her hands sifted through his hair as he deepened the kiss. His mouth traced her jaw, creating a trail to her neck. A moan escaped from Ginny's mouth as he had moved down further south towards the valley of her breasts.
Reluctantly, she removed the arms that were wrapped around Draco, as it was the only way she was currently standing up. With a quick motion, her bra slipped off. His own shirt was fully unbuttoned and she clawed at his belt….
They laid there on the floor of Ginny's office, staring up at the office ceiling, with only Draco's robe to cover them. Her red hair fanned out on the carpet as she still heaved deep breaths. She turned to look at Draco, who looked as satisfied as she felt, though now his hair was thoroughly tousled from her hands raking through them. Turning onto her side to face him, she propped her head up with her arm, loosely tucking the robe around herself.
"Nargles, really, Draco?" Ginny said with a laugh.
"Believe me, I thought Loony was-" Draco began looking up into her warm eyes, only to be interrupted by Ginny punching his arm. "I mean – Luna - was completely mental. But she proved everyone wrong."
Draco also turned to face her, propping himself in a similar fashion. The robe that was barely covering the both of them slipped down a bit, revealing his lean but firm and smooth musculature. "Besides, it's the perfect excuse."
Ginny reached out to brush out the stray silky silvery strands out of his eyes. "You do know that I won this war, right? Though, I did contemplate messing with your hair."
"That isn't funny, Ginny," Draco said seriously, all of the lightness leaving his voice.
"Draco, your hair is messed up right now."
"That's different. It's sex hair."
"For all of your flowery writing for the Prophet, you're a shit poet," Ginny retorted. She shifted down to rest her head on the crook of his arm that was still propping him up. "It was getting a little too obvious that they were from you. Especially with all of those Hogwarts references. Thanks for that, by the way."
"Then maybe we should just tell everyone," Draco replied earnestly. His murkier than usual eyes searched her dark brown ones.
"Why ruin the fun we've been having the past six months?" Ginny asked quietly. During a business trip to France six months ago, Draco and Ginny ended up sleeping together. It turned out all of that back and forth aggression worked wonders for the bedroom. Neither of them could deny the attraction they had for each other any longer, despite the fact that they come from vastly different worlds. So they kept it a secret from their nosy coworkers. They had successfully been keeping up the charade so their relationship wouldn't get printed in the very publication they worked for. Their latest prank war would easily be swept under the rug as it was par for the course for the two of them as far as the office was concerned.
In all honesty, Ginny loved the mystique behind their relationship. It was rather exciting when he would pull her into the storage cupboard to snog her or when they would speak in veiled references about their most recent escapade. But at the same time, she realized that their relationship had quickly gone beyond purely physical. She enjoyed his company in and out of bed. She loved how Draco made her feel, like she truly was the smart, confident, and wondrous woman she projected herself to be to the world. But then, they would have to deal with her family. And his family. And her friends. And his friends. And all of Wizarding Britain.
"I could give you one good reason why..." Draco murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her on top of him. He grinned mischievously before bringing his lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss contentedly, reveling in the moment for what it was. Unlike the earlier kiss that was rough and demanding from sexual frustration and want, this was soft and tender. Whether it was minutes or hours, Ginny couldn't be sure, they came back up for air. She shifted slightly, letting her head rest on his bare torso.
"You didn't really think those shoes were ugly, right?" Ginny inquired, idly tracing patterns on his chest.
Draco laughed heartily and she could feel it rumbling underneath her. "Of course not. I bought them for you, after all. I just thought you'd gone mental by chucking 200 Galleon shoes at my typewriter."
"I'm not that me- 200 galleons?!" She squeaked. "You mean to tell me I was parading around in 200 Galleons last week in your flat?"
"Yes, and naked."
"That's not the point!" Ginny chastised, moving her head up to look at him directly. "Why would you buy me something that expensive?"
"Those were on the cheaper end of the shoe line," He replied unfazed.
"You didn't even fall for my shoe trick," Ginny grumbled as she sat up in wonderment.
"Technically, they weren't brand new anymore since you wore them around," Draco corrected knowingly, also rising to sit with her.
"You didn't fall for anything!"
"Well, first off, you cheated with those mirrors," Draco began.
Ginny opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. Instead, she chose to glare at him which he easily ignored.
"Even if my identity caused the mirror to break, you cast the charm on it," he continued. "Thus, you broke the mirror. The salt you blatantly knocked over, I quickly threw salt over my shoulder when you were fishing around for that trusty notebook of yours."
She groaned and involuntarily blushed, embarrassed that the younger sibling of some of the greatest pranksters wasn't able to pull this off successfully.
"All the same though, I do wear a family amulet just in case," Draco noted, his head motioning to the tie that was cast aside. It was in a spiraled heap, though she could see something gold gleaming on the backside of the larger end of the navy tie. The sneaky snake would keep it hidden, of course.
"Oh, you prat," Ginny said with a hearty laugh. "You are utterly ridiculous."
"I knew it was you the whole time," Draco admitted, flashing her a devilish grin.
She leaned over, reaching up to kiss him again. "Happy Friday the Thirteenth, Draco."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Ginevra."
A/N: So, not sure how corny or cheesy this turned out, but it was a plot bunny stuck in my head! Just wanted to try something a little different. Footwear modeled after Christian Louboutin shoes. Because, of course Draco would buy her crazy expensive shoes! Hope that wasn't too cheesy and/or choppy. Please leave a review on your way out - they're always much appreciated! :)