As she drifted off to sleep Ginny pondered
over things. How had she ended up like this? Lying in wait to
destroy a whole muggle town, posing as Draco Malfoy's wife. It
all sickened her, and yet she could feel the corners of her
mouth twitching up, almost smiling. Ginny never smiled.
Yet the thought of her family's wrath when they found what Ginny had become was almost enough to bring a grin to her face. Let them laugh at her now. Let them tease her. She would rise above them all. In Ginny's mind, she already had.
She and Malfoy were the Dark Lord's most trusted, and his most capable. Ginny could put up with his ways if it meant she would have more honor; more glory among the Death Eaters.
*********************************
Draco didn't understand Weasley. He never would, nor would he bother trying. Why she had joined the Death Eaters; how she had turned into such a cold woman, those things were none of his business. Frankly, he didn't care.
What he did care about was how a pathetic Weasley had ended up posing as his wife, and making him sleep on the kitchen floor. It was irritating enough for him, a Malfoy, to be posing as a muggle for one of the Great Lord's schemes, but this?
Draco turned over, trying to stretch out on the hard wood flooring of the kitchen, and having little luck. He groaned in annoyance. The floor of the living room was concrete, with only a thin green blanket posing as a rug to provide padding. His other alternative? The bathroom. Oh Weasley would pay for this.
*************************************************** Dream Sequence:
"Ron, come on let me in!" thirteen year old Ginny Weasley shouted through her brother's bedroom door. Ron did not respond. Ginny stomped her foot in exasperation. Life was so unfair. She was always treated like a baby!
"Mom, Ron's ignoring me!" she cried.
" Leave him alone dear, and come help me in the kitchen if you need something to do!" Mrs. Weasley called back. Ginny lost her temper, kicking Ron's door and marching down stairs.
" I am not doing any bloody housework!" she informed her mother, and exited the house. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and went back to her work as Ginny left to go de-gnome the yard, her way of venting out her aggression. It was fine with Mrs. Weasley as long as Ginny didn't manage to kill anyone in the process.
End Dream Sequence.
Ginny awoke, breathing rapidly. Lovely that even in her dreams she had to be reminded of how little her family had cared for her. She dearly wished to be assigned to kill the whole Weasley clan, herself excluded. Potter as well, oh how she'd love to wring his little neck.
She supposed it was being around Malfoy so much, but somehow Ginny's hatred of Harry Potter had grown. Perhaps it was the fact that he had never paid her any attention, always treating her as a girl, rather than a woman. She was twenty-two years old, and willing to bet that if he knew her now, Harry Potter would give her the same respect that he'd give a nine year old girl crying over a lost toy.
The Death Eaters gave her the credit she deserved. Even Malfoy respected her, if in his own odd way. Ginny decided to stop mulling over things she could do nothing about for the time being, and turned over, falling into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
***********************************************
This was the final straw. Draco had hit his head on those stupid muggle contraptions for the last time. First a toaster had fallen on his head, then he ended up whacking his nose on the door of the dishwasher while attempting to get up and pay a visit to the loo.
No. Draco Malfoy was not raised to put up with this madness. He marched toward Weasley's room. Whether she liked it or not, he was sleeping there. Let her deal with the kitchen or the living room. He didn't bloody care.
"Weasley!" he shouted, banging on the door. He waited and got no reply. This was perfect. Just perfect. He was about to go get his wand and explode the little bugger when the door was opened.
There, Weasley stood, wearing flannel pants, a grey t- shirt, and a scowl that would have frightened Voldemort himself.
"What do you want, Draco?" Ginny asked, saying his name as if it were a curse.
"My room," he said cooly. Ginny arched an eyebrow.
"Oh? Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, and shut the door right in his face.
"Weasley I mean it!" Draco turned to get his wand, surprised to hear the door creak open.
"Bloody Hell! I didn't realize you wanted me this bad," she said with a smirk.
"Shut up Weasley I wouldn't go near you with a ten foot poll. Now, out."
"I'm afraid you're just going to have to share," she said. Draco could not believe the implications she was making. He shrugged and headed toward the bed.
"No, you get the floor."
"Fine." At least this room had proper carpeting. He watched as she grabbed a beer bottle from the bookshelf and headed toward her bed. He'd be damned if he ever saw her without booze handy.
Draco was about to make a comment about her denied alcoholism when a rock crashed through their window, hitting him in the head..
Yet the thought of her family's wrath when they found what Ginny had become was almost enough to bring a grin to her face. Let them laugh at her now. Let them tease her. She would rise above them all. In Ginny's mind, she already had.
She and Malfoy were the Dark Lord's most trusted, and his most capable. Ginny could put up with his ways if it meant she would have more honor; more glory among the Death Eaters.
*********************************
Draco didn't understand Weasley. He never would, nor would he bother trying. Why she had joined the Death Eaters; how she had turned into such a cold woman, those things were none of his business. Frankly, he didn't care.
What he did care about was how a pathetic Weasley had ended up posing as his wife, and making him sleep on the kitchen floor. It was irritating enough for him, a Malfoy, to be posing as a muggle for one of the Great Lord's schemes, but this?
Draco turned over, trying to stretch out on the hard wood flooring of the kitchen, and having little luck. He groaned in annoyance. The floor of the living room was concrete, with only a thin green blanket posing as a rug to provide padding. His other alternative? The bathroom. Oh Weasley would pay for this.
*************************************************** Dream Sequence:
"Ron, come on let me in!" thirteen year old Ginny Weasley shouted through her brother's bedroom door. Ron did not respond. Ginny stomped her foot in exasperation. Life was so unfair. She was always treated like a baby!
"Mom, Ron's ignoring me!" she cried.
" Leave him alone dear, and come help me in the kitchen if you need something to do!" Mrs. Weasley called back. Ginny lost her temper, kicking Ron's door and marching down stairs.
" I am not doing any bloody housework!" she informed her mother, and exited the house. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and went back to her work as Ginny left to go de-gnome the yard, her way of venting out her aggression. It was fine with Mrs. Weasley as long as Ginny didn't manage to kill anyone in the process.
End Dream Sequence.
Ginny awoke, breathing rapidly. Lovely that even in her dreams she had to be reminded of how little her family had cared for her. She dearly wished to be assigned to kill the whole Weasley clan, herself excluded. Potter as well, oh how she'd love to wring his little neck.
She supposed it was being around Malfoy so much, but somehow Ginny's hatred of Harry Potter had grown. Perhaps it was the fact that he had never paid her any attention, always treating her as a girl, rather than a woman. She was twenty-two years old, and willing to bet that if he knew her now, Harry Potter would give her the same respect that he'd give a nine year old girl crying over a lost toy.
The Death Eaters gave her the credit she deserved. Even Malfoy respected her, if in his own odd way. Ginny decided to stop mulling over things she could do nothing about for the time being, and turned over, falling into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
***********************************************
This was the final straw. Draco had hit his head on those stupid muggle contraptions for the last time. First a toaster had fallen on his head, then he ended up whacking his nose on the door of the dishwasher while attempting to get up and pay a visit to the loo.
No. Draco Malfoy was not raised to put up with this madness. He marched toward Weasley's room. Whether she liked it or not, he was sleeping there. Let her deal with the kitchen or the living room. He didn't bloody care.
"Weasley!" he shouted, banging on the door. He waited and got no reply. This was perfect. Just perfect. He was about to go get his wand and explode the little bugger when the door was opened.
There, Weasley stood, wearing flannel pants, a grey t- shirt, and a scowl that would have frightened Voldemort himself.
"What do you want, Draco?" Ginny asked, saying his name as if it were a curse.
"My room," he said cooly. Ginny arched an eyebrow.
"Oh? Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, and shut the door right in his face.
"Weasley I mean it!" Draco turned to get his wand, surprised to hear the door creak open.
"Bloody Hell! I didn't realize you wanted me this bad," she said with a smirk.
"Shut up Weasley I wouldn't go near you with a ten foot poll. Now, out."
"I'm afraid you're just going to have to share," she said. Draco could not believe the implications she was making. He shrugged and headed toward the bed.
"No, you get the floor."
"Fine." At least this room had proper carpeting. He watched as she grabbed a beer bottle from the bookshelf and headed toward her bed. He'd be damned if he ever saw her without booze handy.
Draco was about to make a comment about her denied alcoholism when a rock crashed through their window, hitting him in the head..
