A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Adrenalina, for giving me the idea for the main part of this chapter. Much more of Draco in this one. I thought about making him dead, but where's the fun in that? Also, any really obvious mistakes or faux pas, please point them out to me. Thank-you, and please R&R if you have any ideas or criticism. Please no flames, unless you believe I really deserve and I will never write ever again...just kidding, but please NO FLAMES!!

Anne Boleyn was far from beautiful. She had a plain face and dressed in dramatic blacks and whites, her dark hair flowing wildly. But her air of secretiveness, of mystery, captivated all men, bound them, until even the king was wrapped around her little finger. She would be gentle to all, and then turn cold overnight as the dew does on grass. Some loved her, but most hated her. They hated her so much they decapitated her.

Lucius knew all this. He had familiarized himself with the story of King Henry VIII to amuse himself as a young boy. She and Ginevra most definitely had similar qualities. The only thing was to figure out a way to turn them against her. The way they had with Anne.

The tall man stroked his chin, thinking. Anne had been killed because her wedding was in shreds and everyone was accusing her of witchcraft. But those days were over.

A thought struck his mind; beating it so hard he fell over and knocked over the candle. It went flying onto the deep green carpet, which immediately erupted in flames. Lucius hastily extinguished them, drawing his wand from the folds of his robes. He attempted to still his shaking hands, but only managed to drop the wand. He slowly turned his face to the small window facing across from his desk, his eyes narrowing. It could work.

Lucius went back to the bookshelf, this time picking out several books and carrying them easily out the door, heading back to his wife's grave. He wasn't going to repeat history. He was going to rewrite it.

The soothing music and silken sheets did nothing to calm Draco's mind. He tossed and turned, his medium-length silver hair sticking to his forehead. He eventually got up and walked quietly down the hall to his kitchen where he got out one of the crystal glasses and poured himself some ice-cold water. He took a few sips, then dumped the rest out, instead reaching for a bottle of firewhiskey.

He drank it straight from the bottle, the alcohol burning it's way down his throat. He leaned against the cool wall, and thought back to the past three years.

Three years earlier...

Little Ginevra Weasley had been only fifteen when she had captivated him. Perhaps it was the air of tainted innocence that lay around her that drew him to her...he did not know. All he knew was that one day during lunch, he had looked across the hall and seen her, chin on hand, soft brown eyes dreamily gazing upwards, orange-red hair pulled back in a tangled bun that allowed all to admire the pale skin and rosy ness of her cheeks, cheap imitation silver hoop earrings and long neck.

That image had stayed with him forever. For Draco knew that though not beautiful, the real beauty beneath was what he desired. The pools of swirling chocolate that were her eyes held such depth, such purity.

He could remember what she had been wearing that day. A light blue wool sweater and worn, dark jeans. A silver cross dangled from her neck and silver bangles glittered at her wrists. He had taken note of this, and for her birthday had sent her a beautiful silver ring that was entwined about a large white crystal. She had loved it, though did not know who was its giver.

He had spent all of first term trying to get her attention. It was hard, for though she had few friends, he did not want to be noticed – he still retained some of his Slytherin pride. Yet he pursued her, until one lucky day. Well...lucky for him.

It was right before the Christmas holidays. The Hogwarts grounds were blanketed in pure, virgin snow, not yet disturbed by the hundreds of students. The sky was clear, and he watched her from the West Tower, one of his favourite places to hide. There she was, sitting by the lake on a boulder reading. He remembered thinking how odd to be reading out in the snow when you could be cozy by the fire. But then, the youngest Weasley had always preferred to be cold and alone then warm and crowded. Perhaps it was because ever since she was born she had wanted to be like someone else, than one day had decided to simply break free from that trap.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an owl swooped over her, startling them both. She had looked up, her eyes sparking, the crimson and gold scarf she was wearing starting to slip off her shoulder. She had taken the offered letter, and studied it carefully. When she was done, she took one step, then fainted clean away.

Draco, alarmed, had ran to her, upsetting the snow, out of breath by the time he got to her. The air around them was crisp, and he could see a faint stream of air float from her mouth. He sighed in relief, then did a quick levitation spell and led her into the castle.

He tried to figure out somewhere they could both stay, and eventually decided on the room of Requirement. He crept through the castle, sometimes ducking into closets or behind stairs if someone came by, holding the limp girl close to him. He would take in her scent of lilacs and vanilla, his hands feeling the skinny bones in her back. He wondered why she was so thin.

They eventually came to the room, and he set her down on the small bed he found there and tended to her with the medical kit on the bedside table. He bathed her forehead with a cool cloth, and reached over her to see the letter still gripped in her hand. He scanned it curiously, then his eyes widened with shock. He could only really focus on a few words. Yesterday. Ministry. Arthur Weasley. Dead.

So there's chapter 3! I know its short, but I will update more often this way. Next chapter will have the whole Ginny betraying Draco...or at least that's what Lucius thinks. I will try to make the next one longer. Really, I will! Just give me time...