No one who knew Draco would have been surprised to see him stroll into the Arlington Hall at seven o' clock that night, dressed in his finest navy blue robes. He paused to greet some of his friends and associates and then sat down in the grand auditorium, where he waited patiently for the lecture to start. It was not long before the Minister was introducing the guest of honour, and then the lights centred on the red-haired woman walking confidently onto the stage, her curvaceous body enclosed in a strapless black dress that made her free-flowing red curls burn like flames against the stark cloth.
Draco's eyes narrowed, and then she was talking, laughing, smiling – answering questions and countering accusations with all the ease of a woman born to public speaking. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the blond couldn't help but be impressed. Still, there were many whisperings concerning Ginny Weasley that travelled to his ears while he sat there amongst the crowd, and not all of them praiseworthy.
He smiled, amused that even now people were quick to judge the woman who had achieved so much. Nobody could forgive her for breaking Harry Potter's heart, let alone the string of celebrities who had followed after that much loved hero. There had always been rumours that she had used love potions – the jealous will always come up with the nastiest explanations – and it was likely that such rumours would only get worse now that she had created a love spell that was subtler (but just as effective) as Amortentia, not to mention much easier to use.
Draco wondered if her spirit was crumbling under that composed mask of hers, and hoped with a flash of spite that it was.
When she finally finished speaking and the rest of the guest speakers had done their part, the crowd diverged into the eating hall to talk and mingle with each other. Draco didn't bother to socialise, content to watch and wait for his chance to speak to the redhead, who was currently surrounded by a bunch of officials and the usual toadies, all eager to get in her good books.
"Sycophantic fools," Draco muttered, quite forgetting that same court of toadies often fawned over him – a fact he normally did not mind – and that he had even joined in their oily art of toadying when it suited him.
Still, he was in no mood for appreciating the ingratiating witches and wizards tonight, and was pleased when the redhead finally dismissed them. He watched her take a flute of champagne from one of the waiters hovering near her, and then she slipped through the crowd, smiling and greeting people when needed. Finally, she made her exit through the thick velvet curtains which separated the balcony from the hall.
A small, predatory smile graced Draco's lips, and then he was following in her footsteps, smiling and nodding to those same people who had accosted her before he too pushed through the curtains and walked onto the balcony. Ginny was standing near the stone wall overlooking the gardens, staring absently at the darkening sky as she sipped her champagne. It did not appear that she had noticed him, but then, without even looking at him, she began to speak:
"Stalking me, Malfoy?" she asked, the barest trace of amusement lacing her low, rather pleasant voice.
Draco was momentarily thrown off his stride, but he regained his composure quickly. "I wanted to talk to you."
Ginny laughed, placing her glass on the balcony. She leant back on her elbows as she turned to face him, a smile hovering at her lips. "I did figure that after having you watch me for the past half an hour. You weren't exactly subtle."
Draco's jaw tightened. He had forgotten how frustrating Ginny Weasley could be.
"So what is it that you want?" she said carelessly, picking up her glass of champagne and taking a small sip. "I know you didn't come here simply for the pleasure of my company. You never did care for my charms, did you, Malfoy?"
He allowed himself a smile. "Actually, Weasley, it's your charms that I wish to talk to you about."
"Oh, really?" Her eyes glittered with amusement. "And what is it exactly about my charms that you wish to discuss?"
"The love spell—"
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "I knew it was too good to be true. The day the great Draco Malfoy actually takes an interest in someone other than himself will be an apocalyptical one indeed."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Don't mock me, Ginevra. I'm in no mood."
"You never are," she remarked dryly, losing her teasing tones. "Very well, we shall talk business." She tapped one painted nail to her lips. "Let me guess: you want to buy the rights to my love spell so you can claim the majority of the profits for yourself."
He gave a contemptuous snort. "Unlikely."
"No?" she mused, genuinely surprised. "Well, then it must be that you think I stole the spell from someone else and have come here to threaten me with exposure and all that other nasty stuff you're so wonderful at doing. I might as well tell you that you're wasting your time; whatever you might think, I did create the spell myself."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Actually, I came here to find out if the spell is really as harmless as you say. As the head of the research team who has to deal with the effects of such magic, you'll admit that I have a right to know."
"Why, Malfoy, I've never known you to be so dedicated to your job. Surely the head of the S.P.P.A doesn't seek out every inventor so promptly for a cosy little chat."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. I have no interest in you."
"I know," she said with another of her mock sighs. "You can't fault me for trying, though. You're like an impregnable fortress to me, and you know how I love my challenges."
A sneer twisted his mouth. "Well, you can keep liking your challenges. And stop changing the subject," he snapped, realising she had once again deftly steered him off-topic.
Ginny sighed – genuinely this time – and then stared at him with a much more serious expression. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Does the spell work?"
"Well, of course it works," she responded, laughing a little. "The Mages Guild would have hardly paid me thousands of Galleons if it didn't."
"But how do you know that it works exactly as you say?" Draco persisted. "You claim the spell stops people from falling in love against their wishes, yet it still essentially makes the victim fall in love. I don't see how that is any different or less ethical than the potions people used previously."
"Oh, there's a big difference between my spell and those potions," Ginny said matter-of-factly, placing her glass back on the balcony. "Love potions like Amortentia rely on illusion and false representations of love; my spell simply awakens what is dormant."
"Yes, but how do you know."
Ginny laughed, understanding dawning on her face. "Oh, I see. You came here because you're trying to discover the secrets to my spell. I should have known – you never were very original, were you, Malfoy? I suppose that's why they made you part of the Spells and Potions Protection Association while giving me the actual research scholarship."
Draco's eyes narrowed a fraction. "I didn't come here to talk about the past; I came here to discuss your so-called love spell. And in case you have forgotten, I do have the power to label that spell as dangerous and have it made illegal unless you can convince me otherwise."
Ginny shrugged one bare shoulder, which he noted was lightly sprinkled with freckles. "You'll have a hard time doing that. The spell is harmless."
"Do you really think you can prove that?"
She let out an exasperated breath. "I already told you that it can't actually create new emotions inside the subject. It can only awaken what is already there. If the subject feels nothing for the spell-caster, nothing will happen."
"And I'm telling you that is impossible. Any spell cast on a human subject with the intention to influence emotions and thoughts will inevitably take the form of an unnatural intrusion. The subject doesn't really believe he or she is happy when under a Cheering Charm – it's simply the spell forcing him or her to do so. The same rule would apply to your spell, and you know it."
"That might be true for most cases," she allowed, "but my spell is different. There's no 'unnatural intrusion' about it. The spell isn't designed to coerce the subject into thinking she or he is in love; in fact, you could really just call it a type of magical aphrodisiac – it heightens the senses, intensifies the feelings of attraction towards a person, but it cannot create what does not exist, nor can it install into a person's mind the thought 'I am in love'. Its sole purpose is to awaken the feelings the subject has yet to consciously realise."
He frowned. "And you can actually prove that?"
"I could always test it on you." She walked towards him, a slow smile curving her lips. "I do wonder what you've got lying dormant in that frozen little heart of yours."
Draco held his ground, not one to be intimidated. "I highly doubt your spell would have an effect on me," he said flatly, "especially if it is supposed to make me feel something for you."
"Oh, I don't know," she murmured, smiling up at him from under her lashes, her body so close he could feel her breasts lightly brushing against his chest with each breath she took. "I think there could be something hiding in there."
Draco felt the inevitable stirring of his blood, the sudden heat pulsing in his veins, and was forced to step back in order to regain control of his unruly body. She chuckled, and though it was a pleasing sound, it seemed to him like the scratching of nails on a chalkboard.
"Well, it's something to think about, isn't it?" she taunted, smiling mockingly up at him.
Draco was about to speak when the curtain behind them was pulled back, and the Minister of foreign affairs popped his head out.
"There you are, Ginny," he said with a relieved sigh. "The French ambassador wishes to speak to you."
"Of course," Ginny said, picking up her flute of champagne.
She gave a brief nod to Draco – though he couldn't help but note the unsettling smile lurking in her eyes – and then she followed the Minister back into the hall. Draco stood there by himself for a moment, still trying to figure out what had just happened. No matter what conclusion he came to, he could not get rid of the niggling suspicion that Ginny Weasley had been amusing herself at his expense and had felt not in the least bit threatened by his—
Well, what had he actually been trying to achieve with her?
He frowned, fumbling slightly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of Dragon Flame cigarettes. He was almost half-way to lighting one when he remembered that he was supposed to be quitting.
"To hell with it," he muttered, lighting the cigarette anyway and taking a satisfied puff as if it were the very oxygen to his lungs.
He exhaled slowly, watching the stars emerge one-by-one from behind their cloaks of darkness. A slight crease formed on his brow as he thought back on his conversation with the redhead. Strangely enough, it was not what she had said that continued to pervade his mind; rather, it was the memory of her warm, soft body pressed so tauntingly close to his – close enough to promise the delights he would find underneath that encasement of black satin, but not enough to let him have the satisfaction of knowing it was his for the asking.
Draco closed his eyes, letting the cool night breeze wash over his face, calming his suddenly quickened pulse. He wasn't particularly worried about his irrational urge to imagine Ginny Weasley naked. He'd never cared about the redhead – finding her irritating as a teenager during their Hogwarts days, and even more frustrating as an adult. If he was dwelling on her in less than innocent ways now, it was simply because he hadn't been with a woman in a while. There was nothing in his thoughts. Nothing.
But when he woke up the next morning, still dwelling on Ginny Weasley's seductive brown eyes and tauntingly soft lips, he realised there was something wrong. He knew for a fact that he had never paired the word 'seductive' with her eyes, and he had most definitely never thought of her lips as kissable.
Draco's face paled as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. "That little minx," he hissed, features warping in anger. "She cast that bloody love spell on me!"
