The True Story of Harry Potter

A/N: Just to clarify a few things, in case anyone is wondering: 1) The premise of this story is to tell another point of view of the events at Hogwarts, so it follows canon, but it is not canon; 2) If you think Draco is always telling the truth, email me; I have some swampland in Florida to sell you. *wink* 3) Harry will not be with Ginny so don't worry all will be explained in later chapters.

******

“Are you always an incorrigible flirt?” Ginny asked as she subtly pulled her hand, trying to loosen it from his grip.

“Only with the most beautiful purebloods,” Draco grinned while he refused to let her loose.

She scowled at his choice of words and tugged harder until he relented and finally released her from his grip. He inwardly groaned, knowing this was obviously going to be an issue between them. He could help her with that another time; it wasn't her fault she hadn't been brought up to appreciate the wizarding elite. At the present moment, she needed to be placated.

“What? You are a pureblood, Ginny,” he asserted, flashing his best debonair look.

“Yes, I am. That's beside the point. You just reminded me of all the times you've called a good friend of mine a Mudblood.” She turned toward the door, speaking softly before she grabbed the handle. “You almost had me fooled, Draco.”

“Wait!” he called, barricading the door with his body. “I told you; my favorite cousin has a Muggle-born father. It isn't like I really have anything against Muggle-borns.” His mind reeled in search of an explanation, any explanation that would suffice. There had to be a way to make her understand without holding it against him.

“You have a funny way of showing it, Malfoy,” she hissed.

“Look, what you don't know is that—er, well, I started this whole Mudblood business to ruffle the feathers of Potter and Weasel second year. It snowballed and created an image in Slytherin that I rather liked. When your bother and Potter tried to incriminate me as the heir of Slytherin by posing as Crabbe and Goyle, I just never let it go." He surveyed her suddenly widening eyes for any indication she would stay, even if it was just to hear him out. "You do know about that underhanded trick, don't you?”

She let out a small sigh and let go the doorknob. “I can't believe I'm doing this.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him suspiciously. “Go ahead and tell this little tale, although I've never heard about it from Ron or Harry. You better tread carefully.”

Draco emitted a small huff and mirrored Ginny's pose. She had become cold and tense, as if he had said she was the one responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. What was her problem? Pothead and Weasel didn't tell her about their Polyjuice prank? Maybe that's what was irritating her, being left out of their tight knit group again.

“You didn't hear about the time Potter and your brother took Polyjuice Potion?” He smirked.

“No, I have no idea what you're on about. I'm not so sure this isn't some cock and bull story of yours. If you—”

He cut her off mid threat, shaking his head at her in a condescending way. “They did, Ginny. They became Crabbe and Goyle, so they could ask me about the Chamber of Secrets. I knew almost immediately because Crabbe would never have known the name of your other brother, Peter was it?”

“Peter? I don't have a brother named Peter. You must mean Percy.” She clicked her tongue in disgust and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, those two Polyjuice-potioned gits showed up just outside the Slytherin dormitories, and so did Percy. When Crabbe, of all people, corrected me on his name, I knew something was amiss.” He gave a smug smile, watching her features begin to relax a little.

“Go on,” she snapped.

“Well, I started by poking fun at Percy, and they didn't react. Crabbe and Goyle would have at least added a few insults. They weren't acting themselves at all. Then it dawned on me that only a Weasley or close acquaintance would know the name of that particular prefect,” he explained. “I had an article from the Daily Prophet about your dad's inquiry at the Ministry of Magic, and I knew it would be the perfect bait to see if I was in the presence of two imposters.”

Ginny's posture had softened, and she traded in her defensive stance for an impatient appearance. With one hand on her hip and the other dangling at her leg while her fingers drummed sporadically on her thigh, she tapped the toe of one foot, looking very annoyed. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.

Clearing his throat, he began again. “They really didn't do anything to incriminate themselves, so I pressed it further by saying something derogatory about Weasleys being purebloods. It didn't go over very well with Crabbe. He looked furious. I knew it was probably the Weasel and logically deduced that Goyle must be Potter, so I said a few things about Dumbledore being sacked to test my theory. Add in making fun of their friends and they took the bait, hook, line and sinker.” Draco paused for a moment, knowing he wasn't coming out of this smelling like roses.

“What? Am I supposed to be impressed with your intellect, your reasoning skills?” she tersely asked.

“You know you are,” he teased with an air of certainty. “I can see it your eyes.”

“Merlin, you're impossible, and you know it!” she huffed, shaking her head as the corners of her lips twitched. She stepped to his side and pivoted until her back was against the wall alongside the door. “So you fed them exactly what they wanted to hear?”

“No, they wanted to know who the heir of Slytherin was. I had no idea and told them as much.” He hesitated revealing the rest of the four-year old conversation, knowing he had said a lot of vicious things, but it was just to get Potter and Weasley to break. “I needed to make them give up the act. I continued to make worse statements, saying things about Granger being the next victim and dying, a raid on our manor and Dark Arts things, but they didn't crack. It wasn't until Crabbe's hair began to turn red that I was certain.”

He heard Ginny swallow, and he looked to his right to see her body trembling, her face tense and her eyes shut tight. This was worse than he thought. He could feel the sweat on his brow as the room suddenly seemed hot. He pushed his sleeves up and ran one hand through his platinum hair. He didn't know what to do; he didn't expect she'd get this distressed over it.

“You don't believe me?” he asked.

“No, I mean, yes—I don't know. It's not important.”

“Then what…why are you upset?”

“The Chamber of Secrets…the heir of Slytherin…” she gasped, obviously trying to stifle her emotions.

“It wasn't me, Ginny.”

“I know it wasn't, Draco. I know,” she whispered as a tear slid from beneath her lashes.

“Then what's the matter? Why are you…” Draco suddenly remembered she had been the last one taken into the Chamber. He silently cursed himself. What was he thinking? Why didn't he remember? He had been so caught up in trying to save his arse he forgot about her.

She opened her eyes and fiercely swiped away the tears. “You don't kn-know, do you?”

“Yeah, you were in the Chamber of Secrets. For a moment, I forgot,” he murmured.

“Lucky you. It seems everyone forgot it but me,” she said, more to herself. “But that's not what I meant, Draco. You don't know who opened it, do you?”

Didn't he just say that? Wasn't she listening? Girls and tears, he would never understand them. “No, I don't,” he said slowly and clearly to make sure she understood him.

She turned toward him, grabbed his hand and put it up to her heart. Normally, he would have enjoyed having his hand exactly where it was, but he could feel how fast her heart was beating, as though she had just finished Quidditch practice, and he knew this wasn't meant to be flirtatious. “You feel this, what it does to me? The memories, or lack of memories, send me into a near panic attack because it was—me, possessed by You-Know-Who.”

Her voice was so quiet and shaky he had to strain to hear her. It took a moment before what she said sunk in. Did he hear her correctly? It didn't make any sense. How could it have been her? How could she have been possessed?

“But—how?” he breathed.

“An enchanted diary, from your father that day at Flourish and Blotts,” she choked down another sob and pushed away from the wall. “I can't do this. I need to go.”

“No, don't go,” he said quietly. He leapt away from the door and pulled her to his chest. “Shhhh. Don't talk. Just forget about it. Let it go.”

He held her close, with one arm circled around her waist, the other lazily running up and down her back. He laid his head on hers and continued to whisper nonsense, anything to comfort her, to keep her there. She couldn't leave, not like this. His arm tightened around her. They fit perfectly like this, complementing one another. Her softness nestled in with his hardness. Her warmth melted his coolness. She just needed to see it. If she would stay, he would make sure she knew it.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his robes, before pulling away without looking into his eyes. He was reluctant to let her go, his hands still holding her waist. She grabbed both his hands in hers, removing them from her body but holding them in hers, softly at first, then firmly. Her eyes suddenly flicked up at him and back down as she let out a soft gasp.

“Draco, you have a scar here. What—what is that from?” she said nervously, letting loose one of his hands to draw an outline of the scar with her fingertip.

“That? That's from the hippogriff attacking me my third year.” He shivered under her touch. She was touching him. The blood pounded in his ears, and he felt heat rise in his stomach. He swallowed as images of everything he wanted to do with her rushed through his mind.

“Oh, does it hurt?” she asked as she continued to gently create patterns on his skin, leaving a trail of fire from her touch. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

“No, it's fine. I could have it removed if I wanted it, but I kind of liked having a scar.” His voice was now lower, quieter.

“Do you, now?” She smirked; her cognac eyes danced with merriment once again.

“I'll ignore that inference, Ginny,” he said, not wanting to ruin the moment. His free hand moved up to her chin, and he followed her smirk with the pad of his thumb. Her eyelids fluttered closed. He knew she felt it, too. The chemistry between them was too strong to be ignored. Being this close was torture, and there was only one way to fix it.

He gently pressed his lips to hers, and she let out a small whimper before grabbing hold of his shoulders and sliding her hands up his neck. He took that as an invitation to continue, and his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. He opened her lips with his, touching the tip of his tongue to her lower lip, then further, exploring more. She tasted like chocolate, Hawaiian Vintage Chocolates. He loved the way she tasted and how their tongues silkily glided together.

Her fingers found his hair and flexed frantically as her kissing became more aggressive. She made small noises that undid him. He didn't think he could ever get enough of this, of her. He had just begun to wonder how long they could stay here and do this, reveling in the warmth radiating in his body when she suddenly broke off the kiss.

“What am I doing? Draco? Why me…?” she asked apprehensively as she moved out of his embrace.

Finding it difficult to breathe, much less think, he had no idea what she was talking about. It had been brilliant; the kiss was incredible. What was she thinking? “What?” he asked in confusion.

“No, no, no, no, no.” She shook her head, disbelieving. “It's to get back at Ron, isn't it? I'm just one more weapon to use against Ron. How could I be so stupid?” she cried. Ginny threw open the door and fled from the room before he processed what she had said.

Draco followed her out the door and saw her round a corner, disappearing down one corridor. He shot after her, knowing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower was around here somewhere. He had to catch her before she went in, explain, and make her understand. He ran the length of the corridor until he was at the intersection where she had turned. He saw Ginny wrapped in Potter's arms. His eyes caught hold of Scarhead's, and a look of triumph flickered through the green-eyed bespectacled git's face as he pulled Ginny inside a portrait hole.