Title: O Brawling Love!

Summary: After Ginny obtains a painful Quidditch injury, Draco Malfoy saunters back into her life. Now she must choose between her first love and her worst hate.

A/N: In this story, Ginny struggles between a relationship with Harry and a relationship with Draco. Both pairings will be equally present, though I don't know who she will end up with in the end. I guess we'll see where this goes and what you guys have to say about it? Also, I don't really know what to list the pairing as in the main summary, so I hope I did alright.

In other notes, this story is rated M. While not every chapter will be a smutfest, there will be sex. Keep that in mind. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I get nothing out of writing these stories but enjoyment.

Chapter One: Bruises

Ginny lowered herself onto her seat with a painful sigh. Having taken a bludger to her left side in the Harpies' last match, simply breathing made her whole body ache. She had been avoiding her paperwork for almost a week, fearing the hard, thick wood of her desk chair and the lack of support it gave her, but when the mountain of envelopes and letterheads had avalanched onto her floor, she knew she couldn't procrastinate much longer.

"Arnie," the twenty year old witch addressed her small purple puff of a pet as she took an envelope off the top of the stack, "I'm getting too old for this." It cooed at her in response.

The first envelope happened to contain praise and well wishes for her recovery from a fan. So did the second and the third and the fourth. The fifth and the sixth were bills, water and hospital, respectively. The patterned had continued that way, letter after letter after letter. It was an hour before she saw anything different.

This envelope was a stark white and sprawled across the face in deep green ink was her name, Miss Ginerva Weasley, and her address. It was reminiscent of her old Hogwarts letters, almost, though the top left corner listed The Daily Prophet as its sender. She slid a short, unpolished nail under the flap to open it. The letter inside was written with the same deep green ink as the envelope, had a neat, straight crease, and smelled faintly of musk and tobacco.

Miss Weasley, it read,

Our team here at the Daily Prophet is very interested in your recovery of the injuries you have recently suffered. As we are sure our readers share our well wishes, we are interested in doing an interview with you about what has happened and what your near future holds. We are looking to run this piece in our Sunday issue, so if you could please send your owl to us by Wednesday with response, we would greatly appreciate it. We hope to hear from you soon, Miss Weasley.

Yours,
Barnabus Cuffe
Editor-In-Chief

"Wednesday, Wednesday," she mumbled, shifting her stack of unopened letters away from her desk calendar. "Reply by Wednesday and today is…." Her brown eyes scanned the paper and she nibbled slightly at her lower lip. There it was, the seventeenth, a… Thursday. "Shit."

Arnold let out a loud squeak as he was nearly thrown off the desk in Ginny's mad search for fresh parchment. "Sorry, babe," she apologized half-heartedly, "mommy loves you. Now, what… have you done… with mommy's ink well?

"Aha!" She had just gathered her supplies and cleared off a space to respond when her fireplace erupted into tall, green flames. Her pygmy puff gave another squeak and Ginny choked a little on the dense air.

"Hello?" she called, waving a quill-wielding hand to clear away the smoke and ash. She winced as she stood and called out again.

A male voice, floating detached amongst the soot, could be heard mumbling a quiet charm. The smoke dissipated instantly, leaving a smudge-faced, though smiling, Harry Potter in its wake. A big bouquet of sunflowers had sprouted from the tip of his wand.

"Harry James Potter!" she scolded (though mockingly, of course, as the grin on her face was wider than his.) "Is this what they've been teaching you in Auror School? Cheap muggle parlor tricks and flashy entrances? I'd ask for my money back, if I were you!"

Harry wasted no time in laying his wand aside and scooping her into his arms. She flinched in his grasp but returned the gesture in twofold.

"Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Ginny shook her head sweetly, stepping back to look at him. "It was worth it."

The small witch plucked the bouquet from his wand and left for the kitchen to find a vase.

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't allowed to leave campus except for weekends." She spoke loudly, calling to him over running water. Ginny worked quickly to cut the stems at a slant and arrange the flowers in a hand-me-down milk glass vase.

He called to her from her office, in response. "I snuck off as soon as I heard. I had to make sure my best girl was alright."

"Hermione's not your best girl?" Ginny asked, re-entering the room.

Harry laughed. "I think she's your brother's best girl, now."

It was true. The two had just recently announced their engagement. They had spent every day together as a couple for the last four years, since that fateful day of war. Ron had even come to visit her when Hermione returned to Hogwarts, and she had often snuck into Auror School to stay with him. Ginny was constantly berated by her mother for not having that sort of relationship with Harry. It wasn't for lack of trying, in her defense - hell, Harry still tried on occasion – but they had agreed it wasn't the right time in their lives for that. Ginny spent all of the Quidditch season on tour with the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry was busy with his training year-round. Their schedules left no room for romance. Still, she was often left awake at night, thinking of those stolen kisses they had shared back at Hogwarts. But it did neither of them any good to dream.

"The flowers are lovely, Harry, thank you." Her voice was soft, honest.

He joined her in the threshold, reaching out gingerly to touch her injured side. "What happened, exactly?"

"A rather rough bludger happened. You know how it goes."

He nodded.

"It seems I've completely broken two of my ribs. The doctor said it was beyond the point of charm healing."

"May I see?" Harry asked, though he was already rolling up the worn cotton of her t-shirt.

Ginny pinned her shirt to her chest with one hand, allowing Harry's fingers to explore her bruised skin.

The visible black lace of her bra made his face hot. He wanted to press his lips against it. Instead, Harry's hand carefully brushed over her side. The skin was purple and blue and it masked any trace of her freckles. Harry missed those freckles at night.

A pained grimace set itself on Ginny's thin lips.

"I shouldn't keep you," she said at last. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

"Bye, Gin." Harry hid a quick kiss in her sweeping red hair as he pulled her shirt back into place. "Take care of yourself, okay? I don't want to hear any more of this injury stuff."

Harry stepped back into her fireplace with a hand full of ash. With a flash of green and a puff of smoke, he was gone, leaving Ginny to lean against her door frame, head swimming in memories passed.

The sight of parchment stacked high on her desk brought Ginny back to now. She sighed and settled back into her chair. With her quill dipped in midnight purple ink and her hand poised over clean parchment, she began to write.

Mr. Cuffe,

Please excuse my late response, I am just now beginning to get around to responding to my mail. If there is still time, I would love to meet with your staff. It is very important to me that the Harpies fans know what's going on. My schedule is clear tomorrow, Friday the eighteenth, so if you would simply like to send over one of your journalists, my floo line is always open. Again, I apologize for waiting this long to get back to you.

Sincerely,
Ginerva Weasley

The parchment was folded neatly and tucked away inside an envelope addressed to Barnabus Cuffe, Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Prophet. It was sealed with gold wax, pressed in the shape of quaffle.

"Oswald!" Ginny stood and yelled from the doorway, into the next room. "Oz, c'mere!"

A small barn owl flew to her and landed on her shoulder. The bird held out its leg, waiting for the letter. Ginny attached it with a purple ribbon as she instructed, "Get this to the Daily Prophet as soon as you possibly can. Wait there until word comes back. Not just the Evening Prophet, but a letter as well. Can you do that for me?"

The bird nuzzled her chin with its feathered head before taking off out the open window.

Soundtrack: Bruises, by Chairlift
I tried to do handstands for you,
I tried to do headstands for you.
Every time I fell on you, yeah, every time I fell.
I tried to do handstands for you,
but every time I fell for you.
I'm permanently black and blue, permanently blue for you.