A/N: Kind of how I wanted it to turn out? I dunno.

Prompt #43: 8/20/17

419 words, according to Google docs.

Malfoys did not plead. They did not beg, grovel, or whimper. Apologizing was also out of the question. All those plebeian behaviors were below them, and quite frankly, Draco wouldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't know how even if he wanted to.

The first time he met Ginevra Molly Weasley, it was in the first floor corridor near the Great Hall. A blur of red was all he could see before he was knocked off his feet, landing in a disgruntled heap near the wall.

"Hey!" came the slow voice of Crabbe. "That wasn't very…" He paused, as if searching for the right word.

"Nice!" Goyle supplied helpfully, and Crabbe nodded vigorously.

"Yeah!" Draco, whose anger at the time overrode his contempt of the twin buffoons, stood up with agonizing slowness, taking special care to straighten his ruffled robes and dust lint off his sleeves. Narrowing his eyes at the crumpled lump topped with flaming red hair, he snorted derisively as he noticed who the hair belonged to.

"Ginny Weasley," he drawled, crossing his arms. "What a pleasure. Pity you had to ruin it by smashing into me." He snorted. "Not that you'd mind falling over. You wouldn't notice the difference, quite honestly." He watched with an expression of extreme disgust on his face as the littlest Weasley got up. The disgust turned momentarily to surprise, however, as she marched up to him and poked her finger savagely at his chest.

"I wouldn't have bumped into you slimy reptile if you weren't in the way!" she accused, brown eyes blazing and hair in disarray. Draco's surprise was short-lived.

"How dare you blame this on me," he hissed, staring back with an equal amount of ferocity. "You were the one barreling down the hall like you owned it. Which, I may add, will never happen at the rate you're going."

"I demand an apology, Malfoy," Ginny said scathingly. "I'll say mine right now: I'm sorry. There. Now your turn." Draco stared at her incredulously, then began to laugh.

"You expect me to apologize to you? To plead for your mercy?" His laugh turned biting. "In your dreams Weasley." He turned, cloak swishing in a way that would make Snape proud, and stalked off, his two sidekicks trailing along behind him.

In the next six years, he would apologize to the youngest Weasley countless times, some of his own volition, and would plead for her mercy a dozen more. Being married to her was no easy feat, he discovered.