Ginny apparated home and turned up the wireless. Lost for anything interesting to do, she wandered throughout the house. Picking up books and then tossing them down, sketching some and then erasing it, looking at pictures and then tossing them out windows. Nothing could appease her boredom.

"I have got to do something," she exclaimed as she paced her small living/dining room. Suddenly green flames erupted in the fireplace making Ginny jump and knock over a chair. A pair of familiar glasses appeared amidst the flames and Ginny groaned. She quickly ducked behind a lounge chair and hid from the head in her fireplace.

I'm not home, I'm not home.... Just go away...

"Ginny?"

I'm not home... leave me alone...

"C'mon Ginny, I now you're home."

No you don't.

"Ginny, get out here. We're going to talk this out."

You can't make me.

"Are you hiding behind the chair?pause Just come here. pause Ginny! Stop acting so immature! Suck it up and come talk to me!"

Ginny stood and glared at the green head of her ex-fiancé in her fireplace.

"What more do you want with me?" She asked him, anger pulsing through her. "You've already ripped out my heart. Have you come back for my lungs? Or how bout my kidneys? I've got two of those."

"Ginny, you don't understand-"

"I don't care!" She shouted, moving toward Harry. "All I know is that you broke my heart, Harry Potter! And I don't want anything to do with you."

"Stop acting like an adolescent!"

"Don't talk to me about maturity, Mr. I'm-afraid-of-commitment! Tell me, have you been planning to break up with me since school, or just since we've been engaged!"

"Ginny! Calm down! This is not the time to get angry!"

"This is the perfect time to get angry! Out of the clear blue, my fiancé dumped me and doesn't even have the guts to say why!"

"I have a side to this story, too you know!"

"I don't care about your side! Just tell me why we aren't getting married now and we were 24 hours ago!"

"I just don't think we are right for each other!"

"Let me guess. The woman right for you is about 5-8 with long blonde hair and huge-"

"Ginny! I don't care about looks!"

"Just tell me. Who is she?"

Harry fell silent. Ginny watched him struggle and made an impatient click with her tongue.

"Marietta Edgecombe. From work," he mumbled.

"Well," Ginny replied through clenched teeth, "have you been seeing each other long, or waited until you were girlfriend-free so it would be more convienient for you!"

"Ginny, you don't un-"

"I know! I don't understand! And right now, I couldn't care less! As far as I'm concerned, you've been cheating on me ever since you laid eyes on her!"

"Gin-"

"Shut up! I hope you and your co-worker have a lovely future together. But I have some very important things to do. Have a nice life."

Ginny grabbed her wand and doused the fire before Harry could reply. All that was left were a pile of smoldering embers.

Ginny stood there for some time, staring at the black bits of wood. The shock of what Harry had said hit her hard. So he had been cheating on her? For how long? What did this Edgecomb have that she, Ginny, lacked? Marietta Edgecombe... The name sounded horribly familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it but she didn't care. Her fist, clenched around her wand, was trembling slightly with suppressed rage. How she despised him. And he had expected her to act perfectly fine with this information. Of course. Ginny wouldn't be hurt. Not at all. No, because the world centered around Harry and if Harry thought Ginny i should not /i be upset, she i would not /i be. The idiot.

Ginny stomped back through the kitchen and into her studio. She did not really feel like painting, but this was the one place where nothing reminded her in any way of Harry. This was her sanctuary from the real world. A quiet retreat from life. A sheltered oasis of peace surrounded by calming white walls. Except when she was in a bad mood. Then it was more like a small island in a violent hurricane of emotion and paint.

This happened to be one of those times.

Throwing her wand on the ground in the corner, Ginny grabbed one of the blank canvasses and pulled her tubes of oil paint from its drawer. Squeezing paint onto the wooden pallet, she muttered, "Black, yes, lots of that. Red, why not? Pink? No! White? I'll pass."

Grabbing one of the brushes, she once again began the stress relieving process.

Until, just as the setting sun was bathing her studio in a soft pink light, when someone knocked on the door.

With a strangled frustrated cry, Ginny threw down her brushes and stomped off to the door. She flung it open and stood face to face (to be more precise, it was rather face to shoulder. Ginny hardly grew an inch since she was a teenager) with a tall, blonde man. Ginny blinked into the setting sun and concentrated on this man's face.

"....Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy was standing at her door, looking as debonair and deceitful as he had since she first laid eyes on him.

"Well spotted, Weasley. I was looking for someone but I must have the wrong address seeing how she's a wealthy artist and you're a poor weasel."

"Oh lovely, you've kept your charm." Ginny shifted her weight. Having a Malfoy on her doorstep was not helping her mood. "Who're you looking for?"

"Genevra Wellsey, but I doubt you've heard of her. Only upper-class wizards have much knowledge of the up and coming artists..."

Ginny snorted. "C'mon in."

Malfoy hesitated. "You mean she does live here? With you?"

"Contrary to popular belief," Ginny called over her shoulder as she began down the hallway, "artist don't make as much as you'd think." She whispered a quick cleaning spell and her living room appeared to be neat and tidy. "Come along," she called after the blonde as she led him to her studio. "Have a seat, she'll be right with you," Ginny said with mock courtesy

Draco lowered himself on to a stool and glanced around the studio. Ginny stepped out of the room and closed the door. She didn't know what she was doing. Should she just leave him there? Should she tell him Genevra was not in? Maybe she could transfigure her appearance.... From inside the studio she heard an impatient foot tapping the ground.

Just do it. She told herself and reopened the door.

"Well, here I am. What's it that you want?"

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless.

"But-... I thought-... You said-.... What kind of prank is this?"

Ginny sighed. "It's not a prank, it's a penname. Most artists have them, you know."

Malfoy's face turned pink. "But... But you're Weasley's little sister, not some high-society artist!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Did you come here to harass me or get a painting?"

Malfoy's eyes wondered throughout the room and rested on that day's piece. "Got a little angry, eh?"

Ginny took the painting and hid it out of sight. "It's what art is, you know. Expression of self."

"Yes, well I've come to you so you can express myself. I want a portrait done to hang in my mansion. It's a Malfoy tradition."

Ginny snorted. "You want a gigantic painting of yourself to hang in your house so you can be like your father and grandfather and so on? Thank you, I'll pass."

Malfoy stood, "I do not want to be like my father!"

"Ooh, testy are we? I'm sorry, but I've sworn never to make business with someone who tried to kill me!"

"What?" Malfoy looked confused.

"Yeah that's right. In my first year your father slipped my Voldemort's diary and I opened the Chamber of Secrets. Since then I don't hold a very high respect for the Malfoys."

The youngest Malfoy was silent.

"Oh? Your father never told you. Well it's true and I wouldn't paint you a portrait if my life depended upon it." Ginny tossed her hair haughtily and glared at Malfoy. It was true; she'd rather do about anything before she did a favor for a Malfoy. Even if she was getting paid.

Malfoy sighed and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a heavy moneypurse and tossed it on a stool. Ginny eyed it. I held a very hefty sum.

"How about that?"

Ginny shrugged. She planned to play it cool, see how much she could milk out of him. "It pays a debt..."

"It's only a deposit. I want this to be the greatest painting of all time, and my money will make sure of that." Malfoy was smirking. Ginny scowled and looked at the purse again. The tiniest glint of gold was peeking through.

"My poverty, but not my will, consents." She grabbed the purse and glared.

"I pay thy poverty, and not thy will," the sly blonde replied and walked out the door.

"How will you contact me? By one that I'll procure to come to thee, I suppose."

Malfoy didn't answer, but continued to walk through her apartment and to the door.

"Oi, Malfoy!" She called after him as she hurried to catch him before he left. "Should I send my nurse to drag an answer out of you or will you tell me straight out?"

He turned and smirked. "I'll give you the information tomorrow. I want this done before my 25th birthday."

Ginny lingered by the door. "But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee, Malfoy..."

"I know, I know, and parting is such sweet sorrow. And call me Draco." Did she detect a grin?

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well then do feel free to call me Miss Wellsey. Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again." With that, she slammed the door.

She turned around and slowly made toward her studio. Was she flirting with a Malfoy? Ginny grinned; oh her brother would have something to say about that. Good. Let him say it. She was feeling wildly reckless.

"Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd!"

The rest of the evening, and well into the night for that matter, passed by uneventfully. She ate a small dinner of chicken soup (from the can) and soda, painted a small, unimportant still life, and went to bed, dreading tomorrow's news from Malfoy.

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