Draco stared blankly at the painting hanging on his wall, a glass of Firewhisky clutched in one hand, and an unlit cigarette in the other. His hair was mussed and his robes rumpled. To any onlooker, he would have presented a very pathetic picture indeed.

But Draco, for once, did not care about his appearance. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that there had never been a love spell cast on him – that he had, in fact, been steadily falling in love with Ginny Weasley quite of his own accord. It was a distressing realisation, especially since exactly four hours, twenty minutes, and six seconds ago he had watched her walk away, leaving him only with the knowledge that she had fancied him for years, and would have quite happily had sex with him against that back wall had he not ruined it by claiming it was her love spell that had made him kiss her in the first place.

One would have expected the blond to complain at the cruel irony of his situation, but at this moment his concentration was centred solely on the painting of—well, he actually didn't know what it was supposed to be. It just looked like a lot of swirls of colour to him.

"Why the hell is that thing even hanging on my wall?" he said after a moment, frowning at the hideous blotch of paint he thought might be a face.

Perhaps his house-elves had decided to redecorate without his knowing. Or maybe one of his old girlfriends had bought it and stuck it on his wall. Those almost forgotten women always did have an irritating habit of trying to 'modernise' his house whenever they reached the staying over stage. They could never understand that he actually liked the archaic, somewhat gloomy decor the manor favoured. To him it was cosy; to them it was merely old-fashioned – an unpardonable crime in their eyes. It was no wonder Draco never kept his girlfriends for long.

"Well, aren't you a sorry sight," Theodore observed, walking into the room.

Draco raised his glass to his friend. "Theo! Care to have a drink with me?"

"I don't know. It looks like you've had more than enough already."

Draco frowned. "What? Oh, no – I've barely touched the stuff. Don't know why I'm still holding this cup, really." He placed the nearly full glass of Firewhisky on the coffee table and then smiled up at his friend. "I must say, Theo, you do have excellent timing. I've been trying to work out this thing for the past forty minutes, but it's proving difficult. Perhaps you might be able to help me."

"What is it this time?" Theodore said with a resigned sigh.

"Well, I'll tell you if you'll stop interrupting me – though, mind, I want your honest opinion. Don't just say what you think I want you to say so you can drop the conversation."

"Just hurry up and get on with it."

"Okay, okay." Draco sat up straighter in his chair and met his friend's eyes seriously. "I want you to tell me what you think that painting is of. I thought it was a goat at first, but then if you squint and turn your head to the left, it almost looks like an old woman wearing a turban."

Theodore stared at the painting, then shifted his gaze back to his friend. "You sure you haven't been drinking?"

"Of course I'm sure," Draco retorted, slightly offended. "Why?"

"Because you're talking to me about art. I've never known you to talk about art."

Draco laughed, reclining back in his chair. "There's a first for everything, my dear hermit. I'm surprised to see you out of your cave, by the way. I was beginning to think you lived in that office of yours."

"Even hermits need a change of scene every now and then."

"Ah, I see," Draco said solemnly. "You're having marital problems with your wife. Well, I did tell you that a box and screen wouldn't be able to satisfy you for long."

"I'll remember to tell her that the next time I go to work," Theodore responded dryly, then frowned at the unlit cigarette in his friend's hand. "What have you been doing to yourself, anyway? And why in Salazar's name are you wasting your time worrying about that god-awful painting?"

Draco shrugged. "Just wanted to know what it was, I guess. I've been staring at it for ages and I still can't make head or tail of it."

"That's impressionist art for you; it never makes sense."

"I suppose," Draco agreed, staring back at the painting. "Well, whatever it is, it's hideous. I still don't know why it's on my wall."

"You received it from Mrs Dougherty at the Christmas party two years ago, just after your promotion. She and her husband came over to have lunch with you three weeks later, so I expect you decided to hang it on your wall so you could find more favour with them."

Draco stared at his friend in wonder. "How do you remember these things?"

"I remember everything."

"Now that I can believe," the blond said feelingly, remembering all the times Theodore had ruined his carefully planned plots and lies by reciting something he had said months, even years ago.

Theodore was unmoved by this tribute and folded his arms, staring down at his friend through critical eyes. "Draco, why are you holding an unlit cigarette?"

Draco shrugged. "It makes me feel better. Now don't look at me like that, Theo," he added, seeing his friend's eyebrow rise. "At least I'm not smoking it."

Theodore stared at him for a moment, then heaved an exasperated sigh. "Alright, that's it," he said, grabbing the blond by the arm. "Get up!"

"Wha—" Draco exclaimed, suddenly finding himself hauled to his feet.

"Give me that," Theodore grumbled, snatching the unlit cigarette from the blond's hands. "Now then," he continued, glowering slightly, "I'm assuming the reason you're acting like an emotional fool right now is because you somehow ran into Ginny Weasley today, and things didn't go so well."

"How did you kn—"

"Please, Draco, everything that upsets you has something to do with Ginny Weasley."

Draco accepted this diatribe meekly enough. It probably was true.

"Well?" Theodore prompted. "What happened?"

"I found out there is no love spell," Draco muttered, not meeting his friend's eye. "All those weeks of thinking about her, wanting her; it was all me, Theo. She didn't do a thing."

"Well, I already figured that."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, glancing up in surprise.

Theodore then gave a very un-Theoish snort. "I've had to listen to you rave on about her to me for years. It was obvious you liked her – even if you didn't realise it yourself. I'll admit, at first I thought she might have cast the love spell on you, but then it occurred to me that your symptoms were too sudden. The whole point of her spell is that it gradually eases the subject into falling in love – it doesn't allow for sudden epiphanies."

"And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?" Draco growled, feeling suddenly very ill-used.

"I doubt you would have believed me. Besides, it was much more amusing watching you flounder about, thinking you were under a spell. Of course, then you wouldn't shut up about her, which got really annoying . . ."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Remind me why I'm friends with you again."

"Because I'm the only person who isn't frightened of you," Theodore responded bluntly. "Though, if those people could see what I'm seeing now, I doubt they'd be frightened for much longer."

"I suppose that's your not-so-subtle attempt to tell me I look pathetic."

"Correct."

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, damn it, Theo, what am I supposed to do?"

"You could always go and talk to her."

"I doubt she'd want to see me," Draco muttered with a bitter laugh. "She was not happy with me when she left."

"I'm sure she wasn't, but that doesn't mean you can't win her over with the right persuasion. Better to try and do something than continue to sit here moping and staring at that hideous painting on your wall."

Draco had to admit that his friend had a point there.

"You think I should go talk to her, then?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, I do." Theodore glanced disinterestedly at his nails. "After all, you never know who else might be pursuing her."

Draco's jaw tightened. "You've seen her with someone?"

"Well, there was that Quidditch player, Ricky Jenkins. I believe he's supposed to be quite the catch . . ." Theodore blinked in surprise. "Why, Draco, where are you going?" he asked innocently, seeing the blond grab his wand and hold it in the air, all ready to Disapparate.

"I am going to make that damned redhead listen to me, and then we are going to have sex." Draco thought about it for a moment. "Lots of sex."

"Good plan. I'll stay here and take care of your Firewhisky."

"Fine, whatever you like," Draco said distractedly, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he found himself standing outside Ginny Weasley's house. He wasted no time in going up the steps and knocking on the door, which opened almost immediately, taking him by surprise.

"Oh, it's you," she said by way of greeting, looking him coolly up and down. "What do you want, then?"

Draco had planned out a whole speech for what he might say to her, but it evaporated to nothing when he saw her standing there in front of him, wearing nothing but a silk nightdress that was as scandalous as it was alluring. In fact, all he could remember in that moment was that he wanted to have sex with this woman – lots of sex.

So he kissed her.

Ginny pulled back almost immediately, her eyes flashing. "Draco Malfoy, don't you dare think you can just waltz in here and kiss me after everything that happened today. I'll have you know that—"

Draco pressed his lips to hers again, effectively stopping her tirade. She made a muffled sound of protest, but then he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and her body seemed to let out a deep sigh of surrender as it collided with his. Her lips became more yielding after that, and he took advantage of her sudden compliance to deepen the kiss, earning a small moan of pleasure from the redhead.

They broke apart, and he could see the open lust burning in her eyes, sending an aching surge of desire rippling through his body.

"Bed or floor," he said shortly.

"Bed – much more comfortable."

Draco picked her up without a further word and carried her into a room – which actually turned out to be a closet. She laughed and directed him to her bedroom, and Draco wasted no time in tossing her down on the bed and crawling on top of her, kissing her when he could while removing the silky nightdress. It was much more difficult to remove his own clothes, and they both cursed when the buttons on his pants decided to be stubborn. Eventually, Ginny just ripped the buttons off, giggling slightly as she did so, and then pulled off the last of his clothes.

"You owe me some new pants, I hope you know," he murmured, trailing kisses down her neck.

"How about I buy you some more buttons instead," she responded teasingly, then gasped when his mouth found her sensitive breasts.

Draco held himself up on his arms, grinning down at her. "Oh, you like that, do you?"

Ginny's only response was to pull him back down to her level so she could kiss him. He surrendered to this manhandling readily enough, quite content to forget the buttons and the pants when she was kissing him so intoxicatingly, her naked body free for his hands to roam wherever they pleased – and roam they did.

But it was not enough just to touch, and so he became one with her. Their bodies moved together in a slow, yet passionate rhythm that let him open the door to every secret place of pleasure kept hidden inside her. Her hand clenched the sheets between her fingers as he went deeper, reaching that point where stars danced like hypnotic flames before both of their eyes, and his name echoed as no more than a breathy whisper on her lips.

She huddled close to him afterwards, and he wrapped his arms around her, just content to lie with her.

And then he felt it – that nagging little desire.

"You wouldn't happen to still have that packet of cigarettes you stole from me, do you?" he asked after a moment.

Ginny rolled over to face him, an evil smile gracing her lips. "Oh, no, Draco. If we're going to do this, you're going to have to give up that horrid habit of yours. I refuse to date a smoker."

"This will be my last one. I promise."

"Forget it. You either quit right now or you can get out of my house."

Draco sighed and wrapped his arms back around her. "Fine, but I'll be expecting you to make it worth my while."

She stared up at him in that naughty way of hers from under her lashes – a look that promised so many more nights of pleasure. "Oh, I'll make it worth your while."

"You little minx," Draco murmured, and kissed her.