EDIT: Now freshly checked for typos and such for your reading pleasure! Now excuse me as I cringe at the horrifically exuberant author's notes that my 17 year old self thought was a good idea.

AN: Hi guys! This is my first story so please be gentle with me! I got the idea in my head for it and it wouldn't go away so I decided to give in and write it. Please R&R! Hope you like it.

"Harry Freaking Potter," muttered Ginny as she wiped her eyes furiously. She had told herself that she wasn't going to cry over that bastard anymore. Now, sure, she had broken up with him, but that didn't mean he had the right to barge in and ruin a perfectly nice evening. Thinking on it, she supposed it was really all Hermione's fault. It was her idea to get a group together for trivia in the local pub. She had come round Ginny's flat earlier that week and said her team, Buckbeak's Revenge, was short a player as Neville's girlfriend Susan had to work nights on Fridays. Ron had, at first, been completely against having his little sister on their team. He had wanted to invite Harry, but that set Hermione off on a round of curses about what a jerk he was and how she can't bear to look at Harry after what he had done to "Ron's own sister!" (By this point she was screeching at the top of her lungs and he could do nothing more than sit and take it.) So it was decided that Ginny would be the fourth teammate.

At first the redhead had been apprehensive. She had stopped going out on the town a few weeks ago after running into Harry at the deli, and did not want to chance it again. After a bottle of firewhiskey and some gentle shoving from her best friend she promised she would come.

At quarter to six Ginny set off for the nearest inner-city apparition point which, luckily, was only a block and a half from her building. She entered the phone booth and with a loud crack she was suddenly in front of The Hooting Owl. She walked in and almost immediately found her friends' table. Hermione was fiercely lecturing Ron on his drinking habits and how he needed to stay sharp if he wanted to beat Seamus Finnigan. Ginny noted that her brother's face was tinged pink, as it does when he is tipsy, and was clashing something horrid with his "Weasley Red" hair. Grinning, she sat down next to a frightened Neville Longbottom who had busied himself with straightening the score card and answer sheets in an attempt to ignore the lover's quarrel.

"Hey Neville," she grinned elbowing him in the side. "They been at it long?"

"Only a couple minutes. And it only started getting nasty just before you walked in. How you been Gin? Don't see you around anymore." It was Ginny's turn to look uncomfortable as she struggled to find an appropriate answer because, while cathartic, she didn't suppose it was the proper place or person to tell all the wicked thoughts she had or explain how she spent all of yesterday bawling like a child when she found a picture of Him.

She made a strangled noise, "Well…Neville…I'm…fine. Really, I…" but he cut her off.

"It's cool, I get it. You don't want to talk about Harry."

"Oh, Neville. Thank you," she whispered. It had been a while since she had seen him last, but it appeared that he was still incredibly thoughtful and kind. Oh, she thought to herself. Why hadn't I given him a chance back when he liked me? It seemed to her that timing was behind this. They passed the final minutes before the game with idle chatter about work and Quiddich, which, for Ginny at least, were one in the same. She had signed with the Cannons a few days after her 19th birthday.

At last the buzzer sounded and the two lovebirds had settled down, and Ron was now pink in the face from ale and embarrassment. The game went swimmingly and Buckbeak's Revenge was in the lead by thirty points when something happened that nobody expected. In the middle of round fifteen, Harry Potter burst into the pub.

"Oh my God!" squeaked Hermione, looking towards the door as harry stumbled in. At her exclamation Ginny turned to look at what was troubling her friend.

"He's drunk again isn't he?" asked Neville quietly.

"Yeah," replied Ron, "Is a lot…these last few weeks." Trailing off he gave a meaningful look at his little sister who was vainly trying to hide behind her hands while Harry scanned the room for her.

"Ron."

"Yea, Mione?" he asked, cringing away from her vicious tone.

"Did you happen to mention our plans for tonight to a certain wizard who doesn't deserve to be named?"

"Well, I…might have…accidently, of course…and…Sorry," stumbled the very ashamed redhead.

"Humph," said Hermione whipping around to console her friend who had been promised a Potter-free night.

It was during this argument that the man in question had begun to make his way over to their table.

"Hey Gi-Ginny," slurred Harry. "How you doing? Broke any more hearts lately?"

"Harry!" yelped Neville and Hermione while Ginny sunk lower in her chair, and Ron jumped out of his.

"Whoa! Dude, out of line. Come on. I'll take you home," Ron exclaimed grabbing Harry's elbow, but he refused to be moved.

"No. I gotta talk to her. I gotta…gotta…tell her."

"Tell me what, Harry?" muttered Ginny, choking back tears.

"That I will take you back even though you are an overreacting bitch." A collective gasp was emitted by all those close enough to hear. Pulling out her wand, Ginny stood and faced him.

"You. Little. Bastard. Cru—" but she was cut off by Ron grabbing her wand away from her.

"What the HELL, Ronald!?" screeched the now livid witch.

"As your brother and his best mate, I really can't let you curse him. Especially with that one. Sorry Gin." He was watching his sister with a mix of pity and faint amusement that she had tried to put the Cruciatus curse on her ex.

"Thanks man."

"Shut it, Harry! Just because I stopped her doesn't mean I'm not pissed."

Grabbing her wand, Ginny turned tail and ran from the pub. She no longer cared about winning that stupid game. All she wanted was to get as far away from Harry Potter as possible.

"That ruddy little git. Thinks he can just show up like that. Oh, he'll 'take me back' will he? That prick. I could just wring his neck!"

"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, eh Weasley?" Her angry, tearful rant had been interrupted by a silky voice that seemed to be coming out of nowhere. Just then, no other than one Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows. Sniffing, Ginny muttered, "What do you want?" to the man in front of her.

"Honestly? I want to know what Potter could have done that's so terrible it makes you cry. If I remember school at all, you were always more of a jinx their brains out type." Malfoy cringed, no doubt remembering being on the receiving end of a bat-bogey hex more than once.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy!" spat the redhead weakly.

"You know you want to talk."

"Not to you." The tall man laughed, running a hand through his neatly kept hair. Ginny had to admit that the retort had even sounded weak to her. And really, what would it hurt? Hermione hadn't been much for listening and instead wanted to rant about her and Ron's relationship woes and most recent argument. And Luna… Ginny gave a derisive laugh. "Fine, but not here."

"Well, of course not here! Really, Weasley, we are in an alleyway! I know you were raised in a hovel, but damn." A comeback almost flew off her sharp tongue, but she thought better. He was actually being nice, why spoil it?

"Well, come on then," he said grabbing her hand.

"Where are we going?"

"My place is just down from here."

"Your…?" Ginny's throat ran dry. Why his flat? Surely they could have hunkered down in a 24 hour restaurant or something. Obviously thinking ahead, Draco muttered something about crying in public and utter humiliation before clearly saying "Yes, my place." Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Unless you want the entire world knowing." She shook her head. No, she certainly did not want the entire world knowing about her personal life.

Draco Malfoy's apartment was nothing like Ginny imagined. Not that she spent her days imagining what the inside of his flat looked like. That would have been weird and embarrassing, even if what she did in the privacy of her own home, was indeed private. It was modest in size, only two small bedrooms and a kitchen and sitting room area. The floor was a beautiful aged mahogany that led into the hall where the bedrooms were carpeted. A very plush couch took up most of the space in the sitting room but there was also a very beaten armchair next to a table holding a radio. On the coffee table sat an old issue of The Daily Prophet and a few books. Turning around, Ginny gaped, mouth open. One entire wall was covered with a very large, very full, book shelf.

"I didn't…I mean, I just…wow," gasped the redhead.

"You weren't expecting me to have a library."

"No, I just…"

"Think I'm some moron prat," he finished with a smirk.

"Yea…NO! Never. I didn't…" she tumbled over her words trying not to insult the closeted bibliophile.

"It's okay. Really. I have a reputation, I know."

"A reputation which is no doubt helped along by your lovely disposition." Ginny smirked, not able to hold in such an easy jab.

"Careful, I could turn you away and you'd be alone with no one to tell about that git."

"And there he is!" enthused the redhead with a wild movement of her arms like she was a performer in a circus. "The Malfoy we all know and few love!" The look he gave her was one of pure amusement he saved for special occasions which was not seen by many.

"You know," he paused seeming to contemplate his next words carefully, "Ginny." He said the name carefully, as if he thought it would break on his tongue. "You can call me Draco. I think, you being a heartbroken mess in my living room and all," she snorted at this and he gave her a look as if to say, Look in a mirror, "We have reached the point where we are safely on a first name basis."

"Okay. Draco then." She said the words softly, barely audible.

"Okay."

"So…" she starred at the man in front of her, so different from the boy she had known at school.

"So now you sit. I'll make a pot of tea. And you are going to tell me what Potter did." Her stomach dropped like lead at the name.

"Where do I begin?"

"You could always skip the mushy good times and dive right in to where he is a git. You know, the interesting bit." Draco mused while lighting the burner under the kettle.

AN: Let me know what you think! Was it too bad? Ready for me to upload the next chapter? (Even if you say no I'm gonna anyways. Keep that in mind, bc it is already written, I just need to type it up.) Well, review please! Love and hugs, Janie.