Everybody Loves Ginny Weasley

Chapter One: Stairway to Heaven.

"So, Malfoy. We meet again." Harry Fucking Potter gave me a sly grin, and if I had not been bounded to my chair I would have got up and hit him in his precious face, hard. So hard he would have fallen off his chair, whimpering with pain, before I'd be all over him, kicking him and knocking his head hard into the fucking floor. I'd love to kill the last Potter, oh yes, just as he'd love to kill me, the last Malfoy.

Funny, in a way. In a sick, strange, twisted way.

"Always a pleasure," I said, not trying to hide my sarcasm too much. Potter have never enjoyed my witty sarcasm, probably because it has always been about him in a way or another. "The circumstances, however, could probably have been better," I add, smiling a little. Mostly because I could really need his support in a way or another right now.

But hoping for him to support me is probably like hoping for him to die, and we all know that's just not about to happen just like that, anyway.

"Yes," Potter replied dryly, obviously enjoying his position as Ministry of Magic's asshole, or, as they so gently put it; the Questioner. Well, what's that to brag about, anyway? It's not like I'm going to confess anything in front of the Git of Britain, now is it? Right, so he got a fucking wand and this idiotic letter that say something like 'If Draco Malfoy lie, blast him to hell and we'll just forget about him', but I still got my bloody pride. I might not have a stupid scar in my front head, but I got one at my wrist if it does any difference. It does, however. While Potty's lightening bolt is making him a hero of the day, mine is making me the cruel bastard of the universe.

Anyway, I was stuck in an office with Potter who was looking at me through his glasses and having a evil grin at his face. The bloody bastard is probably out of his sodding mind, but nobody seem to care. He licked his upper lip, before he spoke again:

"Why don't we take it from the start, Malfoy?"

"Which start? When I was born? When I met him? When I got my Mark?"

"Why you are here, Malfoy. I really don't care too much about your personal life."

"It is about my personal life, you sodding idiot," I snarled. "I was not acting on the behalf of any evil wizard, you know. And don't lie, Potter, it doesn't suit you. Of course you care about my personal life, you spend your whole life digging up dirt on me."

But all right, I'd tell him.

:::

"I knew the bloody stairs from her apartment were old and made a lot of noise as I walked them. Therefore, that especially night, I was walking very carefully down the steps, almost not breathing. Why, you ask, well, because I knew she was expecting other company that evening. I wasn't supposed to come by at all, if fact when I did - she went all mental and almost threw me out of her apartment. You don't blame her, you say? Well, guess what, Potter, you might be the good boy and all, but when it comes to a girl's choice, she would always pick the bad boy. They always believe they can change me, see. I never said she was too clever.

"Yes, I know, back to the point. So, there I was, pretending to be a bird - or at least have the weight of one - jumping from step to step without making as much as a noise. I was quite pleased with myself, partly because I was happy nobody could see me looking like a fucking rabbit and partly because I was getting away from her apartment and the danger I was playing with being near it.

"Then I heard a high sound, and I jumped away from the step as I thought I was the one making it. I quickly discovered that it wasn't me. It was somebody coming up the stairs, and I could already hear the person getting closer. I was in a fucking rush, you know, it wasn't too easy to suddenly disappear when I was standing with one foot in stair in the middle of fucking Muggle London, now was it? I knew for a fact I had to face who ever it was, since I didn't have time to Apparate somewhere else, or come up with a decent invincibility spell.

"I managed to put my other foot to the step before the other one came up the stairs and met my gaze. You ask for my first thought when I saw him? Well, as I have sworn to be honest with you Potter, my instant thought was: oh fuck. It fair enough to fight against Ron Weasley every bloody day at the Ministry, but meeting him in the stairs that leads up to his freaking sister's apartment could easily get out of hand."

"So," Potter said, and looked up from his papers. "This was when he attacked you?"

"No," I replied, frowning, giving Potter a strange look. "Of course not. First he asked me what I was doing there, and I told him I was walking the stairs. Then he asked me why, and I said because it's not allowed to Apparate in the Muggle world, and I'm not all into elevators. Muggle- electricy, all that shit. I just simply don't trust it. Then Weasley started to look up the stairs as if I was hiding an entire Death Eater group up there somewhere, before he stated that his sister lived up there.

"I said I knew that, because I did. Then he gave me this narrowed look, mixed with the usual look of disgust he saves for me only, before he asked how come I manage to walk the stairs so quietly. I think I could have been more wise, as I know he got this special bond towards his sister and all, but so do bloody I, so I told him the truth."

"Which was...?" Potter was encouraging me with a simple wave or two with his hand.

"That I'm shagging his sister," I shrugged. Come on, any stupid cow would know that. That was kind of obvious, don't you think?

"You're... You're shagging Ginny Weasley," Potter stated. "Oh." What? He honestly didn't think she'd save herself for him, now did she? "So, now he attacked you?"

"Ron Weasley never attacked me," I said, sounding more amazed that I was supposed to. I was so amused I could hardly keep myself serious, and I'm a bloody good actor.

"So then what happened?"

"He fainted," I said. "Then he started to roll down the stairs because it is kind of difficult standing and fainting at the same time."

"You didn't stop him from falling?!" In fact, it never crossed my mind. It probably should have, but somehow, it just... didn't.

"Like you'd stop me from falling down a fucking stairway, Potter," I replied dryly. I'm quite certain he agreed I had a good point, even if he didn't say so himself.

"So," he said, "if you didn't get all beaten up by Ron, who gave you in so much you got all black and blue?" My eyes were probably glowing because Potter seemed to back a bit away, reaching out for his wand. Why my eyes would be glowing? Well, they were certainly not glowing out of love - neither for the theme nor the person I spoke to. How exactly, please explain me if you know, do you tell Potty All Mighty that you were beaten up by your own fucking girlfriend?

"As it happens," I said quietly, knowing that I could not trick the Veritas serum or whatever Potter had given me more than I'd already done. It was like running into a full- grown elephant, hoping I'd knock it over with a simple push. "You should not do anything to bug Ginny Weasley off." Potter gave me a stunned look.

"She kicked your arse?"

"No," I said quickly, "she didn't even get close to my arse. She hit me in my face with a saucepan. Please, Potter, tell me why this is so bloody funny." The bloke on the other side of the table was laughing so much he lost his glasses and had to dry out his freaking eyes with his dirty, chubby finger.

Fuck Harry Potter and everything he stands for. Who wants freedom, liberty and happy children with small puppets anyway? Deep down everybody wants power, come on, you know it too. Right, so maybe we have a different view of power, but still - same shit to me.

Potter wants, according to his campaign, to make sure it will be peace (sure, it would be peace when I'm done with my war too), equality between Mudbloods, sorry about that, Muggleborns, is it? - and Pure-bloods. Of course he wants that, he's a fucking half- Mudblood himself. Bet the tone would have been different if his father had had the sense to keep his desires away from that red- haired bitch...

Not that red hair is horrible. Not at all, only when it comes to in Potter's mother and most of the Weasleys.

So when Potter sits there, laughing so hard he's about to collapse, I'm thinking about the upcoming election. I would be involved in it some way or another, if Potter doesn't find a reason to keep me here for the next three months, and god knows, he might.

"Are you done?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Oh yes, quite done," Potter said, smirking my way. Bloody hell, that's my trademark!

Honestly, Azkaban can't be that bad? I'll look into it, maybe killing Potter wouldn't be too bad after all?

"I have one question, though," Potter said as he recovers from his laughing hysteria. "I know Ginny Weasley," he said with some kind of pride and knowledge, "and I know she doesn't have boyfriends like, say, you."

"Fuck off," I muttered, before I rose my voice in defense: "By the way, what does 'boyfriends like you' mean, Potter? A gorgeous, rich, everlasting lover who has a fantastic political career in front of him? Do I suspect you being - I don't know - jealous at me and my good looks? Very understandable, Potter, I quite agree, you could do it with some of my looks." YES! Ten points to me, Draco Malfoy, best ever. Oh, shite, I kick ass.

"I more meant evil, moody and gloomy bastards with red eyes and pale skin like an albino..."

"It's fucking skin of a Pure-blood, it's better than whatever you are. And my eyes are not red, in case you've lost your sight for colours, no, they are rather grey."

"All right," Potter said, "then I meant evil, moody and gloomy bastards with grey eyes and skin with the colour of a ghost - but by Christ it's only his ancient skin so precious and rare - oh, yes, and not a Death Eater."

"It's in, you know. I read so in a paper. It's this thing they've started in the States..."

"You've started in the States."

"Oh, all right, me, then. Me - best, better... Uhm. Yes, very good, anyway." Potter frowned at me as if he was sure I was losing my mind. I must admit, it's quite some time ago since I lost track. I never found it again, though. Fucking difficult to find these tracks, all hidden as if I was never meant to find them again. "Anyway, having the Mark as a tattoo is clearly being a success, over there."

"You are mad."

"I got a nose for business, my good old Potter, as it happens, I don't give a shite about anything else."

"Except Ginny Weasley." I was about to snarl back at Potter, but I couldn't, I couldn't make myself lie. Holy crap, it was bloody hard to keep myself from not screaming. For almost twenty- four years I've been able to lie just about anyone right into their faces, but now, when the Great Duke of Shit is asking me if Ginny means just as much to me as my own fucking business, my mind locks in this really uncomfortable word 'yes'.

"Malfoy?" There was something like concern in his voice as he spoke to me again. I must have looked kind of knocked out as I tried to convince my mind that hell no, Ginny Weasley was nothing but.. But.. Sod off. This was clearly not happening. This was like when Ginny asked me either I wanted water or coffee for breakfast, when all I really wanted was her. Not in that dirty kind of way most of you are thinking now - well, yes, that too, but, God, that's not the case - I really wanted her. I could never tell, of course, she would probably perform the Killing Curse at me, God knows, but...

Oh shit, Potter looked like Christmas just came early.

"Really?" Potter was smirking so wide his eyes were narrow like needles.

Oh. Fuck.