P.S. I Hate You by The Riddled Enchantress

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 29/05/2007
Last Updated: 29/05/2007
Status: Completed

It all started with that stupid singing Valentine in her first year...who would have thought?
One-shot with possible room for epilogue.




1. P.S. I Hate You
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**P.S. I Hate You**

**This title has been stuck in my head for weeks now, begging me to write something for it and
I came up with this and had to get it out of my system before I went to bed!** **It's**
**just a one-shot for now, but based on what everyone wants, I thought about doing an epilogue
type of a thing. Happy reading!**

**WARNING: Serious romance…****ha-ha****…prepare yourself!**

*** * * ***

It all started with that dratted singing valentine in her first year. Why oh why had she thought
that would ever be a good idea? *Eyes as green as pickled-toad*…seriously? Anyway, that's
where it started - this torture. Ever since her public humiliation in the hallways of Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ginny Weasley had received an annual valentine…

It never came at meals with the rest of the post, instead it found its way to her when she was
gleaning a moment of alone time she so rarely got in a day. Crazy though it may sound, she always
knew when it was to arrive because the air got unnaturally still around her and she swore that if
she listening carefully, she could *just* hear someone behind her, watching her. She always
turned around, but nothing but the stillness she had sought out lingered behind her.

In Ginny's second year it simply read,

*Your hair is red like a rose*

*Your freckles brown like dirt*

*I like how they are sprinkled cross your nose*

*And I also like your shirt.*

Sure, it had been elementary, but she guessed the person who wrote it was probably in her year,
so advanced poetry wasn't really expected from a twelve or thirteen-year-old. While the poem
was highly unromantic and said nothing of the author's feelings for anything other than her
shirt and her freckles, it wasn't the poem itself that intrigued her, it was the bottom
line.

*P.S. I hate you*

This had really upset her during her second year, the first time she had received such a
valentine, thinking that it had been some practical joke, meant to get her hopes up about a secret
admirer and then tear them down. She had thrown the valentine in her trunk and had left it there
over the summer, never thinking about it again until her third year when her next ominous valentine
arrived.

*Your hair is still drenched in color*

*A color so deep I can feel it,*

*I can't imagine another*

*Running their hands through it.*

*P.S. I hate you.*

Again, Ginny was dumbfounded by the cryptic message the author was sending her. Did he hate her
or was he decidedly jealous of the boys who had been eyeing her? It was at this point that she
pulled out her valentine from the previous year and tucked it away for safe-keeping with the newest
addition to her stack of valentines.

As a fourth year, Ginny had become particularly popular with the boys of Hogwarts, attracting
most with her dark crimson hair spilling down to the small of her back in undulating waves. Her
freckles were much less prominent but were still a dominant feature of her heart-shaped face. Her
nose was slightly upturned and her eyes mysterious pools of russet which sparkled when she laughed.
Still underdeveloped for her age though, Ginny felt awkward compared to her female classmates, most
of whom sported some amount of curves.

This was the year of Michael Corner…the beginning of a long line of boyfriends for the youngest
Weasley. This was also the same year she had effectively taken out Draco Malfoy with a Bat-Bogey
Curse, much to her twin brothers' admiration. She was beginning to shine as one of
Hogwarts' most popular - especially within the Gryffindor House. Everyone noticed everything
about her, but she never noticed one person always watching her…

*Valentines Day is here again,*

*I can still see your glowing smile,*

*I can still see your effect over men*

*In my eyes, all that attention is vile.*

*P.S. I hate you.*

Once more, there was a jealous overtone of the message, but she couldn't place the attitude
with anyone she had ever come in contact with. Ginny never told anyone about these valentines
because they were special - it was something she had that no one else had and attention from
someone her brother wouldn't be chasing off. Part of her wondered if it was the work of
Voldemort, trying something similar to what had happened to her in her first year, but there was a
nagging voice in the back of her mind that led her to believe it was something else, something
more.

Fifth year finally rolled around and Dean Thomas was her number one flame. For a short while,
she thought maybe Harry was her “secret not-so-admirer” but was quickly proven wrong when the next
valentine came to her, this time at sunset on the Quidditch pitch while she was practicing
alone.

*Your hair looks aflame in the night*

*Potter doesn't deserve you,*

*Don't do something rash out of spite*

*Remember what I have warned you.*

*P.S. I hate you.*

Out of all of the valentines she ever received to her dying day, this one was the most
mysterious, warranting many hours thought to this. At least he had finally mentioned a name so she
could narrow it down by one person. When she did end up dating Harry at the end of the year,
nothing went as planned; she supposed she only dated Harry to get back at Ron for being so
hypocritical with Lavender, but when things went awry at the end of the year, leaving her
heartbroken and alone, she wished she would have heeded her admirer's advice.

Ginny had been noticing that each year she paid less and less attention to the end note of each
valentine and fell in love more and more with the author. She gleaned every amount of information
she could from the few words she received every year and looked forward to February 14th
every day of the year, beginning the moment after she had read her newest valentine.

By her sixth year, she was hanging onto the hopes of finding this mysterious writer, looking for
someone suspicious in every venue, but whenever she went snooping about, she only found the ever
unhelpful Malfoy and his highly unintelligent baboons. It was beginning to frustrate her to no end
to know that there had been someone out there faithfully writing her valentines every year.
Granted, they weren't romantic, but there was something in them that made her crave more.

Obsessed though she was, nothing in her next valentine provided any hope that she would find him
soon.

*My funny Valentine,*

*Sweet, comic valentine*

*You make me smile with my heart*

*Your looks are laughable*

*Unphotographable*

*Yet you're my favorite work of art.*

*P.S. These words are not mine, as you can tell, but nothing says it quite so well…*

Her heart skipped a beat.

Where was the line she had invested all her happiness in? Surely just because he hadn't put
it in didn't mean his feelings were changing. She loved that he always ended it with something
negative…almost as if he couldn't stand the thought of leaving off with something sweet…

Then she spotted it, half-way down the page…

*P.P.S. I hate you.*

*Don't think I'd forget that…*

She sighed with relief. The “I hate you” always made up for any amount of creepiness these notes
may have held in them. It was what made this guy unique.

Ginny's seventh year went by uneventfully. She had been made Head Girl but was painfully
aware she had not been doing half as good a job as Hermione had. She had finally filled out
slightly, acquiring a small chest and a widened set of hips and felt more at peace with her
body.

She walked the halls, still thinking of her secret Valentine's Day admirer, wondering if he
was still around this year or if he had graduated with her brother's class. She crossed her
fingers every night, wishing and hoping that come the fourteenth of February, she would be
pleasantly surprised.

As autumn crept by, she reveled in the breezy environment that was October and November and
relished in the beautiful coloring out by the lake. It had become customary that she snuck out
after dark to sit beneath the almost naked trees, allowing herself the pleasure that the crunching
leaves beneath her feet afforded her. She kept this tradition throughout the cold, bitter winter,
through snow and shine. This spot was where her sixth valentine found her, on her knees under her
favorite tree, a single tear rolling down her cheek, thinking she had been forgotten.

Desperately, she opened the small white envelope and drank in the words that the neat parchment
and simplistic handwriting afforded her.

*It is impossible to forget you*

*I find your face everywhere I look*

*Hear your laughter everywhere too*

*Six years and my sanity you took.*

*P.S. I hate you.*

Ginny's heart melted. He loved her. She knew he did! It was driving him mad to be apart! She
caught the bird just in time before it flew back to its owner and she scribbled her own message,
sending it off with the large hawk, tears of joy this time flooding her eyes.

* * * *

He had watched her - it's true. He'd watched her since the first step she had taken onto
the Hogwarts Express her first year. He'd seen her squirm under the sorting hat; seen her blush
furiously with the mention of Potter's name; seen her flirt with other guys at school; seen her
face go alight with the joy of passing an exam, and fall with her failures. He'd seen it all,
and she'd not seen him watching.

Every Valentine's Day, he sent her a special poem, letting her know that she wasn't
living a solitary life - that she had meaning to someone. He didn't know why or where these
feelings came from. He hadn't ever felt this way about any person or thing in his life thus
far, and he knew in the pit of his stomach that he would never feel it again for anyone short of
Ginevra Weasley.

So when his hawk, Logan, came soaring back through his window of his opulent flat (purchased
with the Malfoy fortune) carrying a scrap of parchment, he was shocked beyond words. Had she
figured out who he was? Did that prospect bring about excitement or dread? Was he ready to accept
responsibility for these uncharted feelings?

For ten or fifteen minutes, he simply stared at the paper, not wanting to open it and be
disappointed before he resigned himself to read it.

In a loopy, hurried scrawl was written:

*Happy Valentines Day to you too*

*I cannot forget any more than you can*

*If you feel as you say you do*

*Come meet me - be a man…*

*You know when…*

*At the park in* *Hogsmeade**.*

*P.S. I hate you too.*

*P.P.S. I apologize for the bad rhyming.*

Draco Malfoy's heart leapt into his throat. She wanted to meet him. And she loved him…she
really loved him.

* * * *

The following year, February 14th rolled around and Draco Malfoy was painfully aware
of what day it was. It was the day that his whole happiness hinged on. He had tried so hard to put
off thinking about it but had failed miserably as the second he walked out of his flat, red, pink,
and white hearts and cherubs greeted his eyes in a sickening display of
commercialized…valentine-ness.

He had prepared something special and had been carrying it around in his cloak pocket all day,
often reaching his hand in just to feel the crisp parchment between his fingers.

Many passersby on the streets gave him odd looks, obviously worried as to why a Malfoy would be
smiling so broadly, so openly. Most of them would have dropped dead if they knew that the reason
for this happiness was purely Ginevra Molly Weasley and all her charm.

He had gone to several shops, both Muggle and magic and was prepared for the evening, just as he
hoped she was.

* * * *

Ginny had never been so nervous in her life. She hadn't been able to sleep the night before
for her stomach being tangled up in a dozen knots. It was five o' clock and she was to meet her
mystery man in the park a few miles from her flat in forty-nine minutes. The park was about a ten
minutes walk for her, so luckily she had some time to relax before she had to leave - that was
something she hadn't done in days.

This was big. Everything that remained constant and true to her for the last six years hinged on
this evening and who this man turned out to be. Part of her dreaded the meeting - what if it was
someone she was not attracted to, after all, it's not as though she had much to go on other
than the fact that he had written her every year for six years faithfully and had always managed to
make her feel inexplicably loved. But maybe, just maybe, he was everything she had been dreaming
of.

For the occasion, Ginny had chosen to wear a modest but beautiful gold dress, falling to her
shins in uneven layers, clinging tightly to her torso and allowing a small amount of cleavage to be
seen peeking out of the top of the corset top, which laced gorgeously in the back. The halter
neckline was enhanced by her simplest and most elegant piece of jewelry - a small golden chain
suspending a single marquee-shaped emerald. She had seen it in a Muggle pawn shop and had thought
it was beautiful. She'd never worn it - but tonight just felt right.

Her still-long crimson hair fell in curls down her back, the front half pulled back to keep it
out of her eyes. Her makeup was perfect, her shoes were gorgeous stiletto heels…everything was just
right.

Checking herself one last time and grabbing her black faux fur coat that the twins had given her
that past Christmas, Ginny Weasley walked out of her apartment and left that dull life solidly
behind her.

* * * *

Not at all cold due to her extreme amount of excitement, Ginny walked up to the edge of the
prettily landscaped park to find all the street lamps on the surrounding blocks put out. Instead
she saw the soft glow of what appeared to be candles decorating the gazebo in the center of the
park elaborately. It was dusk when she got there - right on time. Seeing no one in the gazebo, she
decided to investigate further. At the step of the intricate wooden structure, she shed her coat
and purse, letting her mouth drop open in awe.

Anywhere a candle could fit, there they were, all lit up, providing just enough light in the
last few minutes before dark to allow her to see the inside of the gazebo through a faint glow.
Scarlet roses were woven through the wooden lattices all around and petals sprinkled the floor. It
was just as she took it all in that she heard a pair of determined footsteps behind her.

“Happy Anniversary,” a familiar voice said evenly, daring her to turn around and finally drink
in the face that had been blank in so many of her dreams.

Slowly, Ginny began to turn, unknowingly closing her eyes as she did so. When she knew she had
turned all the way around, she stopped but did not open her eyes - instead, she squeezed the shut
tighter.

At this, she was welcomed with a warm chuckle before she felt warm, masculine hands cupping
either side of her face, allowing her to sigh in the happiness just knowing she was with this
mystery man, whoever he ended up being.

Slowly, he tipped her face up towards him and his lips met hers in a soft, reassuring kiss that
sent chills up and down Ginny's spine, as well as his own. For a single moment, the were united
in the most perfect way - her blind to his looks but loving him anyway, and him blind to her family
history and loving her anyway.

When they broke apart after only a few moments, he finally spoke again.

“Open your eyes, Weasley.”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of her last name. No one had ever called her that except one
person…

“Malfoy,” she half-asked, half-breathed in disbelief.

For the first time, their eyes met and her chocolate eyes seared into his grey ones, for the
first time being able to see past his hardened expression and into the depths of his soul. She
stood there motionless, simply taking in every detail of him - his chiseled and well-defined square
jaw, his soft grey eyes, his firm build and great height - towering five inches over her at the
least.

Her first instinct was to yell, but it quickly subsided as she realized she did not *know*
Malfoy, she had simply thought she had. There's no doubt he had been a prat to her family
during school, but his words on paper meant more to her than anything he had ever sad back
then.

“It's you,” she breathed, smiling for the first time since she saw him.

“No, Weasley, it's you - it's always been you,” Draco insisted, taking a step closer to
her again and pulling her into an intimate hug.

“Why did you never say something in school?”

“Do you think we would have had a chance in that school?” Draco asked, smiling - something she
deemed beautiful in its own right. “We barely have a chance outside it. We were prejudiced back
then and the rest of the school would have complicated things. Besides, I quite liked how things
happened, didn't you?”

Unable to truly speak coherent thoughts, Ginny settled for nodding, looking up into the face of
the man she'd been dreaming of for the last six years of her life.

“That said,” the handsome man stepped back, grasping both of her hands in one of his and pulling
out his parchment, “we have a ritual to continue.”

Ginny smiled radiantly and allowed a tear to roll down her face uncaught.

“I loved you without knowing you,

I've loved you most of my life,

Now there's one thing I'll ask you to do…”

At this, Draco Malfoy did the most unthinkable, un-Malfoy thing anyone could have expected and
he got down on one knee, his hand shaking only slightly but his face portraying a practiced
confidence.

“Do me the honor of being my wife.”

There was nothing for Ginny to do but cry as he produced a small silver band, sporting a
square-cut diamond. She simply laughed and nodded as he slid it on her fourth finger of her left
hand before picking her up and swinging her around wildly.

As soon as he set her back on the ground, she did the only thing she could think of and grabbed
his neck, forcing his lips to hers roughly. She knew they were moving fast, and acting despite all
they'd been taught, but she didn't care at all - they were young and in love and that kind
of thing can only happen once. She already felt connected to Draco in a way that she had never felt
toward any other guys she'd ever dated.

In response to her kiss, Draco took her bottom lip in his and gently tugged at it, begging for
entrance. He'd been fantasizing about this his whole life and now, it would finally happen. As
she opened his mouth to accommodate his searching tongue, she met his upon entrance, and began
exploring his mouth as if she didn't have one more day to wait. Reluctantly, Draco pulled away
from her, a sly look on his face.

“Hey, I almost forgot, P.S. I hate you.”

Ginny smiled but had to ask, “Why did you always put that?”

“Because I do hate you for everything you've done to me. You've given me something to
look forward to n my lifetime and something to reach for and hope for. You're something my
father couldn't get for me through the power of persuasion. I wanted you more than anything I
knew I could never have you…I hated it. I hated that I loved you without regret, without
questioning and that I know I will for the rest of my life.”

Knowing there was nothing she could say that could ever match his speech, she settled for the
only thing she could think of.

“I hate you too.”

* * * *

So, it was actually fairly long and I've been thinking about writing their wedding in but
it's almost three-thirty and I've been up all night writing out this little plot bunny, so
that will all be dependant on when you want!

Oh yes, and the lyrics to “My Funny Valentine” by Frank Sinatra were used in the valentine from
Ginny's sixth year! Not mine! :)

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