March 16, 2020
Author's Note: We're baaaaaack!
Chapter Nineteen: A Surprising Exposé
Between stepping out of the Floo into the Atrium and queuing for a lift, Draco got the sense that people were staring at him. Or maybe not. Whenever his gaze met anyone else's, their heads swiveled away, attentions suddenly absorbed by the floor, the lift gate, the bum of the person in front of them. Paranoia on Draco's part? Or guilt on theirs?
He dug through his pocket, using the gesture to surreptitiously assess the crowd while keeping his head lowered. No, his instinct had been right the first time. Everyone was staring. Well, not the witch at the security gate registering her wand. Oh, never mind. She looked up when she passed through to the lifts, her eyes widening at Draco as she bumped into a wizard reading a newspaper in the queue.
Setting his eyes forward, Draco wished he, too, had a newspaper to hide behind. It had been so long since he had been the center of attention like this. After the war, his family's trials had been the talk of the nation—especially when Potter testified on his and his mother's behalf, essentially convincing the Wizengamot to set them free.
Draco had become accustomed to hateful murmurings and mistrustful looks everywhere he'd gone. It had taken months for his presence to become commonplace after he'd begun working at the Ministry, but it had been years since he'd been accepted—tolerated—by the masses. What could he have possibly done to deserve this kind of attention now?
He kept his gaze focused straight ahead, which meant that he did not know whether the looks he was receiving were full of anger or speculation or, less likely, adoration. He didn't want to know. There were too many people and it wouldn't take much provocation to start a mob. So he kept to himself as he rode the lift up to Level Six. He disembarked, and the doors closed upon five sets of eyes staring intently at him until the lift whisked the occupants away.
Draco shook his head and continued to his office.
His coworkers were in for once. Both of them glanced up and then back down quickly as Draco took a seat behind his desk. In his peripheral vision, the two looked at each other while Draco lifted a magazine laying innocuously in the center of his desk.
He didn't subscribe to The Quibbler, so its presence was a mystery. At least until he saw the cover. A familiar photograph of himself and Ginny at a restaurant graced the front of the magazine, and in large letters above their heads flashed the words:
EXCLUSIVE: MALFOY AND WEASLEY LIE TO ALL, FAKE RELATIONSHIP
Draco's stomach dropped, the blood draining out of his face, out of his whole body. What utter bullshit that a topic so mundane and private was newsworthy enough to be a cover story, as if anyone actually cared about Draco Malfoy or Ginny Weasley's love life. He could think it absurd all he liked, though; seeing his name on the cover of a publication again, for the first time in years, sent a wave of dread through his limbs, emanating from his heart.
The sound of the glossy paper creasing in his tightening grip was loud in his ears as he tore through the magazine to the correct page to read the story. He stopped when he saw Ginny's name on the byline, every inch of him growing cold. If Ginny was behind this, then the high visibility of a cover feature had been a calculated move on her part, not the publisher's.
This was it. The exposure of their charade in a—well, maybe not a reputable publication—was the end of Draco and Ginny's relationship as they knew it. His heart pounded in his throat as he began to read.
The Dating Charade
by Ginny Weasley
Imagine, if you will, what it must feel like to be in the constant presence of a sworn enemy, to be under their thumb, to know that the course of your life or career rests in their hands, affected by their satisfactions and whims. A bully roams the noble halls of the Ministry of Magic. It sounds so foolish, so childishly immature, to call him that, but I would even take it one step further to label him a predator.
I know you think I'm speaking of Draco Malfoy, the man I've allegedly been dating for the past few weeks. The man I described in my previous paragraph is a dead ringer for Draco in his youth, as any of you who had the displeasure of attending Hogwarts with him could attest. He was an entitled, snobbish prat back then, and as far as most people know, he still is.
The Malfoy family is notorious for their leaning towards the Dark Arts, for surrounding themselves with powerful figures in need or want of Malfoy money. Their political aspirations are subtly felt, except by those who are bullied and bribed to steer the Ministry and Hogwarts in the Malfoys' preferred direction.
After the defeat of Voldemort, the entirety of the Malfoy family's crimes, and their Dark Marks, came to light. Lucius Malfoy continues to serve time in Azkaban for his transgressions during the second war while his wife and son were acquitted. The man I described at the beginning of this editorial should be a Malfoy.
He is not.
This editorial is about a man with less prominence in our community, less notoriety, less of a reputation. He's smiling and pleasant and, so I've heard, charming, but the very sight of him fills me with unshakable dread and clammy fear. His name is Jason Junker, and he is the Head of the Spirit Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Jason is my direct supervisor, and he is a bigger threat to me than any Malfoy. Considering Lucius Malfoy's actions nearly led to my murder at the age of eleven, and Draco Malfoy attempted to thwart Harry Potter at every turn at the Battle of Hogwarts, I know my claim is difficult to believe.
But I trust Draco Malfoy with my life, my secrets, and my happiness. I do not trust Jason Junker as far as I can throw him.
The kind of evil Jason practices is insidious and sophisticated. He understands boundaries just enough not to cross them in front of an audience, but when he is alone with a woman, his lips loosen, his hands wander. He has cornered me on numerous occasions and assaulted me more than once. His actions are those of a sexual predator, and I have not felt safe in my workplace for the last several months because of him.
I know many who read this will think I'm engaging in hyperbole to make a point. I'm not. In fact, Draco has no reason to protect me, keep my secrets, or consider my happiness because our relationship began as an utter farce. Desperate for surcease from Jason's attentions, I asked Draco to pretend to be in a romantic relationship with me in the hope that another man's claim on me would deter Jason from his grossly unprofessional and inappropriate behavior.
In a turn of events I never expected, Draco agreed to the charade. For a short period of time, our plan worked. However, it soon became clear that Jason did not consider Draco a true adversary, so he orchestrated my attendance at an international conference, led me to believe I would be traveling alone, and then harassed me for twenty-four hours before assaulting me.
I thought for sure the Ministry would protect me if Jason put his hands on me. I was wrong. Lark Scamander, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and son of the famed and beloved magizoologist, Newt Scamander, was clear in his disbelief of my claims. He chose Jason's side over mine, the side of a married man who preys on vulnerable women, a man he calls a close friend. Scamander insisted that I was to blame for what happened between me and Jason because men like Jason cannot resist women like me. It was made quite clear that Scamander would hear no more from me about the situation.
Jason, in retribution for attempting to defend myself to Scamander, engaged in blackmail to silence me. He insinuated that if I did not do everything he asked of me henceforth, he would not hesitate to terminate my employment with the Ministry under fabricated pretenses. This was the final straw, the moment I knew I could no longer cower in silence.
I have only felt this helpless once in my life, and that first experience had been the product of Voldemort's influence. Since then, I have never felt as desperate as I've felt these last several months, not even during the height of the war. Draco has been a support to me in ways I never imagined he could be, and if it weren't for him, I don't know where I'd be now.
I write this editorial as a warning to the wizarding world. There is a predator in our midst, and the Ministry does not care. I will certainly lose my job once this article is published, but at this point what is most important is that the public knows about Jason and that they beware him.
I know Jason has other victims, some of whom may be too afraid to come forward. To them I say:
I see you.
I believe you.
I will stand for you, and if you choose to come forward, I will stand with you.
You are not alone.
I battled Death Eaters as a teenager, and I was awarded an Order of Merlin for my bravery during the war. I rebelled against a Voldemort-controlled Hogwarts, and I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts against my family's wishes. Despite these heroic acts, I was still victimized by my supervisor, a man who should have been a mentor to me. I was still ignored by another superior, a man who should have put his personal relationships aside to act in the best interest of all his employees and the Ministry as a whole. Being a victim does not make you weak, just as terrorizing women neither makes Jason strong nor desirable.
I am a survivor, and I will no longer be silenced.
The only man who listened to me and subsequently acted to protect me was a man who bears the Dark Mark. Do I need to state how horrifically sad it is that I feel safer in the arms of a Death Eater than I do within the walls of the Ministry? I suppose I should not be surprised. A few short years ago, the Ministry did not listen to Harry Potter, either, and, well… you know how that ended.
Draco's coworkers were standing in front of his desk when he looked up from Ginny's editorial.
"So it's true," one of them said. "You do have a Dark Mark."
Draco's lip curled in distaste. These men, who he had shared an office with for at least two years, who avoided him as much as possible and whose names Draco barely knew, had taken away a single point from the article. The wrong point. Or maybe it was the right one. What did it matter what Draco had done since the end of the war? What did it matter that he tried not to follow in his father's footsteps, that he had behaved and even done a good deed or two since the fall of the Dark Lord? What did it matter that Ginny had painted Draco in an honorable light when she also referred back to the mistakes that led him to fight on the wrong side of the war? It didn't. The choices Draco had made in his youth for glory, for ambition, out of fear and ignorance, would follow him for the rest of his life. No matter how hard he worked or how fast he ran from his past, his name would always be associated with bigotry and terror.
Draco could not blame his coworkers for their fascination, he supposed. But he could not forgive them for ignoring the point of Ginny's article to focus on him.
He stood up and with a snarl said, "Yes, and I'm not afraid to use it, either!"
The statement didn't make any sense, but it sounded menacing enough to make his coworkers cower and take cautious steps away from Draco as he swept out of the office.
He needed to speak to Ginny immediately.
The door slammed closed as a simmering anger bubbled to the surface. The reminder of the existence of his Dark Mark would inspire speculation and mistrust to grow once more, and who was to blame for that?
If Ginny had never asked him for help, he never would have been dragged into her mess. He never would have grown to care for her. He never would have experienced her determination and her stubbornness and her acceptance. Or her patience and humor and forgiveness. If Ginny hadn't convinced him to help her, no matter his original reasons for doing so, he never would have fallen in love with her. And she never would have written such horrible things about Draco for the entire wizarding world to read.
He stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked down at the magazine clutched tightly in his hand.
Draco had never been anyone's knight in shining armor or made a decision that wasn't selfish. When Ginny had confronted him with her proposal, he had weighed the pros and cons of helping her and decided his reputation would benefit the most if he attached himself to her. It wasn't until later that he'd begun to care about her and her wellbeing.
The man Ginny had written about sounded a lot more like Potter than Draco. After Thursday… after this weekend… after they'd confessed their feelings to each other and Draco had opened himself up in a way he'd never opened up to anyone… could it be possible that she still wanted Potter after all?
He needed to speak to her about this, about all of it. The article, the gross misrepresentation of Draco's character, set the record straight about who exactly she wanted… or if it even mattered now that their charade had been exposed.
At the end of the corridor, the lift doors opened, releasing the very last person Draco wished to see. The very last person the short tether on his anger could tolerate.
Junker's eyes lit up when he noticed Draco, and a smirk stretched across his lips as he swaggered toward him.
Not the reaction Draco expected after Junker had been called a predator in print just that morning. Maybe he hadn't read the article yet.
Eyes followed Junker, darting between him and Draco as they met in the middle of the corridor. People passing them slowed down to watch, while others did nothing to hide their curiosity and formed a small, tittering crowd. The article must have been why Draco had received so many stares in the Atrium. He hadn't realized so many people still read The Quibbler.
Junker's mouth opened, and the thought of listening to anything the bastard had to say made Draco's boiling temper explode. Before anyone knew what was happening, Draco pulled back his arm and slammed his fist right into Junker's nose.
Draco watched, a little mystified—had he really punched someone with his bare hand?—as Junker's head snapped violently backwards. He turned on his heel as if the momentum of Draco's punch had spun him involuntarily, and then he fell to the ground, blood gushing down his face.
"How do you like being assaulted?" Draco asked, his teeth clenched to keep him from spitting spells—or spitting spit. "Not very nice, is it?"
Junker's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He clutched his face, his eyes wide in shock, a shock shared by the onlookers.
They all scattered when Draco glanced up and stepped over Junker's prone body. They fled the lift when he entered it, giving him the gift of solitude. By the time he reached Level Four, his hand throbbed and so did his jaw from how tightly he clenched both closed. His anger only subsided when the lift doors opened to reveal three more people Draco had no desire to see.
Potter, Granger, and Weasley. What a welcome committee. It seemed the universe was conspiring against Draco and his urgent need to speak to Ginny.
The three shared an expression of surprise that told Draco they had been on their way to look for him and had not expected to run into him so soon.
He wanted to sigh in exhaustion. Instead, he pulled his shoulders back and exited the lift, moving off to the side to get out of the way of lift traffic.
Weasley seemed to think Draco was fleeing, because he raced ahead of Draco and stopped in front of him to shove a copy of The Quibbler in his face.
"This true, then?" His words were gruff, his face lined with an expression Draco couldn't interpret. Consternation? Frustration? Confusion? He certainly found no welcome there along the slope of his pointed nose, in the severe slant of his dark ginger eyebrows, between the points of his freckles.
"Yes," Draco said. "As you well know, I do, in fact, have a Dark Mark."
The expression was definitely frustration now. The cover of The Quibbler shook. "You know what I'm talking about! My sister. Her boss. You knew?"
Draco sneered. "Are you upset she didn't tell you?"
"No!"
Granger came up to Weasley's side and put a calming hand on his arm.
"I'm upset this happened to her. I'm upset that I didn't know!"
"How could you have known?" Draco asked. Did Weasley see his own hypocrisy? Did he truly understand why Ginny hadn't told him?
"You knew," Potter said, his voice neutral, his own face curious rather than angry.
Weasley sighed, his whole body slumping. "When you came to lunch, that was all part of this… act? You were trying to help her?"
Not ten minutes ago Draco had been blazing with anger that Ginny had seen something heroic in Draco that wasn't there. With her brother, he only wanted to play up his deeds, make Weasley feel sorry for thinking so badly of Draco, even though he'd been justified to doubt his intentions at the Burrow.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't lie about being a good man. He only knew how to be a selfish prat.
Instead, he twisted his expression into the same sneer that used to provoke Weasley and Potter to near violence in their youth. "She didn't just ask me for help. She begged. Can't you just picture it? A proud Weasley begging a Malfoy for help? Feeling so desperate, so needy, she turns to me instead of her own family?"
"Malfoy."
The hard tone in Granger's voice silenced him, made everyone's attention swing to her. Her eyes were as hard as his name had been falling out of her mouth, but there was knowledge in her gaze.
Draco froze, knowing exactly what she was about to say.
"I saw you with her earlier this week, in my office. Remember? I saw."
Draco shook his head, but he couldn't lie about what she'd seen. He knew too well he couldn't lie to Granger.
Weasley and Potter each moved to the side as she stepped forward, closer to Draco.
"I saw how angry you were when she told us about Paris. I saw how tightly you held her hand after she told us about the meeting with Scamander. I saw how much you care about her. I might have even seen something more than that. Don't pretend it wasn't there."
The more Granger spoke, the more Draco's body tensed, like a spring being condensed, waiting for the smallest trigger to explode into the air. He stared at her and she stared back with a challenge in her eyes, and Draco knew what she wanted him to say, because Granger knew what Potter and Weasley needed to hear to be okay with this whole situation.
Draco saw it all in Granger's eyes, in the way her lips threatened to transform into a smug smirk. What a know-it-all, he thought in exasperation.
He looked away from her and spread his attention between Weasley and Potter.
"She's right," Draco said, the words defeated, not belligerent as he'd been during his attempt to goad Weasley. "She asked me for help, and for my own selfish reasons, I agreed to help her. The photograph in the Prophet, lunch at your parents'—a ruse. But over the last few weeks, along the way… it turned into something real."
"How real?" Weasley growled.
Potter did not look surprised. But, then again, he'd seen them at Astoria's pool party. He knew as well as Granger did—better, maybe—how strong Draco's connection with Ginny was. They would have to have been the best actors to make their relationship at the pool party convincing, but that had just been them. Loving each other while refusing to admit it.
"I love her," Draco said simply, fiercely. "And she loves me."
Weasley continued to glare, long enough for the situation to become uncomfortable, but Draco didn't look away.
Not until a bloody Jason Junker shoved himself between Weasley and Granger, breaking up the heavy tension in some ways and magnifying it in others.
"What happened to your face, mate?" Weasley asked, his face pale at the sight of the blood covering the bottom half of Junker's head and drenching the front of his robes.
"This bastard hit me! You're Aurors, aren't you? I want him arrested immediately!"
Potter, Weasley, and Granger shared a dubious look with each other and then with Draco, who shrugged at the accusation.
"I did hit him. May I introduce you to Jason Junker? Ginny's supervisor?"
Their dubious expressions suddenly hardened into a calm fury that should have made Junker wee on himself in terror. But the idiot didn't know what was good for him and instead turned to his three new enemies and snapped, "Well? Didn't you hear what I said? Arrest this man!"
"Hit you with a spell, did he?" Weasley said coldly. "What kind of spell gives you a bloody nose?"
"What?" Junker raged. "I didn't say he used magic! He used his fist. He punched me like a Mudblood heathen!"
If Draco wasn't mistaken, the temperature lowered ten degrees as that word floated out of Junker's mouth. Eyes that had already been narrowed in distrust narrowed further. Six hands balled into fists as if Potter, Granger, and Weasley wanted nothing more than to punch Junker, too.
"Did either of you draw a wand?" Potter asked, his tone flat and simmering with revulsion.
"No. How many times do I have to tell you that Malfoy hit me with his bare hand? Did you lose your hearing in the war, boy? Do they let any deaf idiot become an Auror these days?"
Granger cleared her throat. "The presence of a wand during the altercation is important, Mr. Junker. You see, dueling on Ministry property is illegal under certain circumstances. There are a few spells that are acceptable to use in a duel. However, you've stated that Mr. Malfoy used no spell against you."
Junker interrupted her with a sigh of exasperation. "So arrest him, for fucking Merlin's sake!"
Granger's voice grew louder. "The Ministry defines a duel as prearranged combat between two or more people wielding wands and intending to do harm to each other. It doesn't sound like the altercation between you and Mr. Malfoy was prearranged."
"Well, no—"
The corners of Draco's lips spread across his face, lifting into a slow smile as Draco caught on to what Granger was trying to say in the most pedantic way possible.
"And as you've said multiple times, Mr. Malfoy did not draw his wand… and neither did you."
"Yes, that's correct, but—"
Now Granger's expression turned feral. The lioness stalking its injured prey and going in for the kill.
"So the altercation between you cannot be considered a duel, which is mostly illegal when one takes place on Ministry property during business hours." She lowered her voice menacingly, and even though he was not on the receiving end of her ire, Draco shivered to hear it anyway. "And unfortunately for you and Ginny, there are no other laws or policies about harassment and assault between Ministry employees on Ministry property, so it would be highly inappropriate for Harry and Ron to arrest Malfoy for what he's done. Why don't you submit a complaint to my office instead?"
The threat was clear in Granger's words: She was responsible for all complaints, and she could not guarantee that any complaint submitted by Junker would ever see the light of day.
If, during the display of Granger's Ministry policy prowess, Junker had ever considered changing his story to insist that a wand had been present before Malfoy knocked him off his feet, it had to be obvious to him now that no one would take him seriously.
Junker looked at the four of them with utter loathing, and then he spat on the floor, leaving a splatter of blood mixed with spittle at his feet.
"Whatever. That frigid bitch will pay for this. You think she's the only one who can write a little article in a third-rate tabloid? I have connections at the Prophet. Before this is over, she'll be ruined."
Junker turned on his heel and paused, confronted by a wall of people who had watched the whole encounter silently. So silently, even Draco hadn't noticed them, too absorbed was he in the beautiful way Potter and Weasley set Junker up to be devoured by Granger.
Their audience must have heard Junker say the word Mudblood, must have seen the way he condescended to Potter, the hero of the wizarding world. His disheveled and bloodied appearance next to Draco's polish and his raving complaints next to the righteous trio's calm was a bad look for Junker. It was easy to see in people's eyes. They were not impressed with him, and whatever Ginny had written in The Quibbler, they were now more prone to believe.
Junker growled and pushed through the crowd back to the lifts, but his dramatic exit took an anticlimactic turn when he had to wait for a lift to arrive. As soon as one did and the doors opened to admit him, the crowd began to cheer and applaud, jeering at Junker until he disappeared behind the lift doors.
Weasley turned back to Draco as the crowd dispersed and held out his hand.
Draco looked down at it warily until Weasley deigned to explain.
"I can't believe Ginny had to deal with that arsehole by herself for so long. I don't understand your relationship with her, and I don't like it. But… if you've been there for her, if you… love… her like you say you do..." Weasley looked vaguely green at the thought, "then I owe you my thanks at the very least."
Draco shook his head and pushed Weasley's hand down, declining his handshake gently. "I don't need your thanks. Save that hand for Ginny. She's going to need all the support she can get. If Junker is to be believed, this will only get uglier for her."
Weasley frowned, but he nodded as if he could respect Draco's reasoning. The thought of doing something to earn Weasley's respect made Draco's stomach turn. If this was what it felt like to be counted among the good guys, he didn't want any part of it.
Granger sighed loudly, her brows drawn together in a disappointed expression.
"What is it?" Potter asked, his tone heightened by anxiety.
"I just wish I could have witnessed that punch myself."
Potter grinned. "We've got a Pensieve in Auror Headquarters. Ron and I might be able to smuggle it away for a few minutes, if Malfoy wouldn't mind loaning us his memory."
Draco smirked back. "It would be my absolute pleasure to expose Junker's humiliation to anyone who wished to see it."
It took a few more minutes for Draco to disentangle himself from Potter, Granger, and Weasley. They parted ways, and for a moment, Draco forgot where he was and what he was doing there.
But of course. Ginny.
As he hurried down the corridor to the Spirit Division offices, he wouldn't let himself wonder where Junker had gone or who he planned to complain to about Draco's conduct. He still needed to speak to Ginny about her article, about the things she had said about him, but the closer he drew to her office, the more his convictions crumbled beneath him.
Draco didn't agree with the heroic picture she'd painted, but could he blame her for painting it to get her point across? To win people to her side? To garner enough outrage and sympathy for her warning to be taken seriously?
Ginny's editorial had been emotional and scandalous because she'd used Draco's character and history to make a comparison between himself and Junker. It had been effective, clearly. All the people who had stared at him all day, the crowds that had surrounded Draco and Junker's encounters—none of those people had been openly hostile to Draco. If anything, they'd been curious about him, curious about how a man as unassuming as Junker could be worse than a Malfoy, a known Death Eater. They'd been eager to see Draco and Junker together, to judge for themselves whether or not Ginny had written the truth.
He didn't know their verdict, but it didn't matter, did it? Society's opinion of him, of his family. It just didn't matter. There were bigger issues in the world than whether or not the Malfoys could ever be forgiven for their crimes. Maybe they didn't deserve forgiveness anyway. It wasn't Draco's job to change anyone's opinion about himself. The only person's opinion that mattered to him was Ginny's, and she'd said everything she felt the night they'd made love. Her editorial had just been an extension of her expression of love, whether she'd intended it to be or not.
Draco stopped just outside the Spirit Division office, conflicted, confused, but sure of only one thing.
Ginny.
Draco didn't matter in any of this. The editorial was about Ginny, and Junker's sexual harassment was about Ginny, and Draco's antagonism with Junker—also about Ginny. He could put himself and his feelings aside until he figured them out. Ginny would even help him unravel them if he asked; he was sure of it.
Just this morning, he'd been irritated with his coworkers for reading Ginny's article and focusing on Draco. Draco had done the same thing all morning, worrying about how the article would change people's perceptions of himself instead of worrying about how it would affect Ginny. What a prat he'd been all day.
Taking a deep breath and feeling excited at the thought of seeing Ginny for the first time since reading The Quibbler article, he stepped into the office and followed the path he'd memorized that led from the front door to Ginny's cubicle, ready to congratulate her on exposing Junker for the creep he was, ready to support her however necessary in the aftermath of her editorial.
He stopped in his tracks at the entrance of her cubicle. No Ginny sitting behind her desk. No ghostly Colin floating in front of it.
In fact, the entire cubicle was empty, cleared not only of all her personal belongings, but also all the scraps of parchment and worn quills that had littered her desk just a couple days before.
She was gone.
Author's Notes: I was supposed to be leaving for Disney World today. :( But I figured, if we're all to be stuck in quarantine/isolation or, at the very least, avoiding people as much as possible together, a new chapter could be just the thing to help with the coronavirus blues. :)
There are two chapters and one epilogue left. I know I say this all the time, but hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to write because most of the chapter will be taken from the original version of TDC that was published for the DG Forum's fic exchange in 2014/2015. That version was complete in seven chapters, and here we are five years later at nineteen! I can't believe how far this story has come (and how long it's taken me to write it -_-) or that anyone could still be following along after all these years. Thanks for sticking this out with me.
Stay healthy and safe out there! Think about your community and practice social distancing! Don't go to bars and clubs! Stay home, read fan fic!
Also if you like romance novels, follow me on Twitter! I talk about books I'm reading or want to read and occasional real life stuff, too. My new handle is writingjag.
Sunny's Prompt #3:
Basic premise: Draco and Ginny start publicly dating for reasons other than actually liking each other.
Must haves: The pair put on a very convincing act even though they really don't like what they have to do...at least at first. The ruse goes on for a while and in the meantime they're learning more and more surprising things about the other. Humor.
No-no's: A dark or very angsty story.
Rating range: The higher the better, but ultimately up to you. I really don't mind.
Bonus points: Hogwarts Era. Draco and Ginny get competitive about one-upping each other to show how they're the best girlfriend/boyfriend ever, and when no one is looking they snipe at each other about how lame/stupid their 'romantic' act was or snark together about how ridiculous everyone else is to think that said gesture was so romantic. E.g. "If I actually came home to that and you were my real boyfriend, I'd bloody kill you."
