The Stuff Legends Are Made of
by Gianfar

Rating: PG
Ship: Draco & Ginny
Canon: Books 1 - 5
Genre: Humor, Romance
Status: Complete
Length: 3,847 words in 1 chapter
Published: 5 Feb 2004
Last updated: 5 Feb 2004

Draco Malfoy deems Ginny Weasley Enemy Number One after the Bat Bogey Hex incident. When he wages war against her, the
fighting and a little help from a stupid cupid bring about the stuff legends are made of. Written for a Valentine's Day
challenge. Completed!

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/1733/

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1. The Stuff Legends Are Made of

Dedicated to Cindale, Ginnysdarkside, Kaz814 and Rainpuddle.

******

There he was, Draco Malfoy, fighting…again. This whole thing had started with fighting, only this time it was with the
insufferable silver serpent cufflinks he was trying unsuccessfully to fasten with one hand. It was bad enough that he
had to wear these uncomfortable Nancy boy dress robes, but the cufflinks were just inhumane. He swore he would never
wear that lousy excuse for clothing again after that wondrous experience at the daft Yule Ball of fourth year. He rolled
his eyes at that memory, then cursed out loud as the cufflinks fumbled in his fingers. He never thought he would be
here, doing this, ever. It all came back to the fighting, which was essentially her fault as she had started it when she
jinxed him with that Bat-Bogey Hex; he cringed at the thought.

~*~

Fifth year had not ended as Draco thought it might. Things had appeared to take a most unexpected turn for the better
when Umbridge took over for Dumbledore. His father had encouraged him to do what he needed to insure he was connected
with the right people, the people in power. Siding with Umbridge had been a wise choice, so it seemed at the time. She
was connected with the Minster of Magic, after all, and you just didn't get any more powerful than that. An added bonus
was her obvious distaste for Potter and the Weasleys. How could anyone not think Umbridge was worthy of his support?

The moment he'd been waiting for, the event he'd hoped would happen since his first year, finally arrived when Scarhead
and his flunkies had been caught red-handed breaking the rules. Umbridge was destined to expel them. Draco was eagerly
awaiting that triumph, when out of nowhere the band of misfits had the upper hand by regaining their wands and hexing
the Inquisitorial Squad. That's when the fighting began; that's when Ginny Weasley hit him with the Bat-Bogey Hex.
That's when she became Enemy Number One, tying with Potter, the Mudblood and Weasel.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, his father had been caught aiding Voldemort, who apparently had returned, and then
sent to Azkaban. To add insult to injury, countless Hogwarts students had performed spells in an attack on Draco while
coming home on the Express. He had been turned into some disgusting slug form for weeks until the healers at St. Mungo's
could undo the damage of the multiple hexes. Half his summer holiday was spent in the hospital, spent plotting out
revenge against Enemy Number One.

When Draco returned to Hogwarts his sixth year, he had vengeance on his mind. The first opportunity came at a prefects
meeting on the Express. He lingered after the meeting until only Weaslette, loudly smacking her gum, and her loony
friend stayed behind, both lost in that rag, the Quibbler. That moment was the catalyst for the fighting that ensued the
rest of the year. Draco lazily flicked his wand and whispered the incantation Waddiwasi resulting in the wad of gum
flying out of Weaslette's mouth and straight up her nose. She flushed crimson while grabbing her nose, which was the
last he dared to see as he fled the train compartment.

~*~

Draco smirked at that particular memory: she was angrier than a wet kneazle and he was as thrilled as the day he learned
to fly. Later he had learned that little spell had secured her a trip to the hospital wing and her absence at the
opening feast. Considering what he went through over the summer holidays, he refused to feel guilty.

“Having a bit of trouble there, mate?” interrupted a familiar voice. His childhood companion Greg Goyle, obviously
amused at the man before him, was standing in the doorway.

“These blasted things! I can't seem to fasten them with only one hand!” Draco hissed in frustration.

“Wow, you're a wreck. Where were you just now? You were a million miles away,” Greg noted, shaking his head at the
abnormal sight of the usually well-kept, snarky bloke he had known for since they were in nappies. Greg had never seen
him so rattled, his robes undone, his hair messed up and cursing like Ron Weasley at the man-jewelry he was told he had
to wear.

“You know that's what wands are for, Draco,” Greg chuckled.

“Er, right,” Draco said grudgingly as he grabbed his wand and solved the now obviously minute problem.

“Hello?” Greg teased, waving his hands to clear imaginary fog from Draco's line of vision.

“What?” Draco snapped. “Oh. I was just thinking of the beginning of sixth year.”

Greg snorted, “Surely you have better memories than that? All you did was fight with that fiery vixen, hexing her and
being hexed.”

~*~

It became the kind of thing legends were made of at Hogwarts, the battle of Malfoy and the littlest Weasley. Who would
end up in the hospital wing this week, or how many detentions the two prefects would have, and if they would have them
together was the usual mealtime gossip. No one talked much about Voldemort, whether it was out of fear or because
Hogwarts had its own war going on, Draco never knew. What he did know was that Weaslette was the epitome of power. She
could toss a hex, throw a curse and hurl a jinx like no other. Size was not an indication of power where she was
concerned. Draco may not have been as fast with his wand, but his cunning and resourcefulness kept him a fulltime
threat. Eventually everyone laid claims to the victor of the war, some even taking bets.

The most anticipated event of all the students, and certainly some teachers, had been the Quidditch match between
Slytherin and Gryffindor. Weaslette was playing Chaser for the Gryffindors and Draco was still the star Seeker of the
school, as far as he was concerned anyway. The match played out rather quickly and ended without incident. Draco was
jubilant after catching the golden snitch. Potter had been bested; it could have been due to that year-long ban he
suffered at the hands of Umbridge, which really was no matter to the victor. Being a Malfoy and a Slytherin meant he had
to make sure the Gryffindors really felt the pain of their loss, so he made sure to throw a few jibing comments their
way before going to the locker room. His last and best taunt he saved for Weaslette, a very suggestive remark about real
men knowing what to do with a broomstick and snitch. That was the last thing he remembered because suddenly he was
knocked out cold.

He never saw it coming as it wasn't her wand, but an upper cut to the chin from her fist. She had a mean right hook,
too. He spent that night nearly comatose under Madam Pomfrey's care. He woke in the middle of the night, face swollen
and throbbing, brassed off. Now he had missed the Slytherin celebration after their first win against Gryffindor in
years. He was done playing nice; he was bringing out the heavy wands and the brass cauldrons. He was going for ruthless.

~*~

“I mean, it wasn't that bad until you decided to get your comeuppance,” Greg broke into his thoughts.

“What can I say? Part of the Malfoy charm,” Draco scoffed, trying to brush the unease of that recollection from his
twisting gut.

“Well, I suppose it all turned out fine in the end, didn't it?” Greg apprehensively asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. I didn't ever expect this though.” Draco smirked as he gestured to his outfit causing Greg to hoot in
mirth over the obviously disgruntled room and occupant.

“I can go find Pansy. She'll be more helpful,” Greg offered, trying to soothe the bundle of nerves standing before him.
“Besides, she would love nothing more than to get out of hanging those paper cupids all over the place.”

“Right,” Draco said anxiously, waving a hand dismissively to let Greg off the hook and send him out the door. He
wondered if he had heard correctly, if Greg had said cupids. That couldn't be right, especially after what happened
Valentine's Day sixth year. There was no way in hell there would be cupids here, on this day, would there?

The possibility of paper cupids decorating every wall, adorning the furniture, and charmed to fly almost sent him over
the edge. Raking his hand through his platinum blond tresses, Draco cursed out loud again. How could things get this
botched? What was he going to do? He was surrounded by incompetents, as usual. He'd have to take care of this himself,
but he was unsure how.

The door creaked open just a sliver and a tentative knock followed by a high-pitched voice filtered into the room.

“Draco, Greg said you needed me to help tidy up,” Pansy Parkinson giggled.

Ah, just the person he needed to see. “Come in, Pans,” he curtly said.

“Oh, are we in a snit? Shit, Draco. You're a mess and today of all days to fall apart,” she gleefully chided as her eyes
swept over him.

“Tell me something useful, Pans,” he sneered impatiently. “Help me get these robes in order, will you, and while you're
at it explain this nonsense I hear about paper cupids.”

“Oh, dear. You didn't know?” she asked, seemingly taken aback by that revelation. “Er, well, maybe it's a surprise so I
won't ruin it. Here, turn around and let me fix that collar.”

A surprise? He doubted that very much, but he knew Pansy well enough to know he wouldn't get any information out of her
as long as she thought it was. His ire was rising as he furiously thought of what could be the meaning behind the
cupids. Well, if he was completely honest with himself, he knew the meaning.

~*~

It took a couple of weeks to plan with the help of the headmaster, unbeknownst to him, and several hundred Galleons, but
in the end it would be worth it all the trouble; it was the perfect revenge. The littlest Weasley was about to learn not
to mess with Malfoys.

It was Valentine's Day when Draco's plan came to fruition. It couldn't have gone more perfectly, as he watched from his
usual seat at the Slytherin table during breakfast. Dumbledore had announced that they would have card-carrying flying
cupids this year who would deliver Valentines if anyone felt so inclined. Then the meal and the show began.

Several Cupids came flying in, each delivering messages to different students to keep the plan from becoming completely
obvious to the teachers. Then the cupid he had been waiting for entered the room. It was really a dwarf with charmed
wings. The same grumpy dwarf that had delivered a Valentine to Potter their second year. He hovered over the Gryffindor
table, just above Potter and his rug rat crew. The mock cupid pulled out his twanging harp and began to sing that song,
the same song from years gone by.

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine.

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

By the time he had finished the first verse the entire great hall had quieted and focused on Potter. This was it. This
was the moment all other events had led up to, the zenith of retribution: the cupid began the second verse.

Her eyes are brown as the muddy ground,

Her hair is dark red as sneezewort

She is his to snog and his to shag,

The Weasely tart whose been conquered by most of Hogwarts.

A few gasps interrupted the immense silence that stood in the tension-filled room. For several long seconds all that
could be heard were the flutterings of the charmed wings on the ugly cherub as he left the Great Hall. Draco had trained
his eyes on Weaslette and Potter. They were looking at each other in exasperated horror, neither one redder than the
other as they both resembled fully ripe tomatoes. Draco smirked at his wicked deed, accomplished with no one the wiser.

It was then that the littlest Weasley's eyes flew over to him and brown locked with silver. She knew in that instant.
Her eyes looked like muddy water as the tears pooled in them and she angrily leapt from the seat she had occupied.
Keeping her eyes on him she angrily approached the Slytherin table.

“Draco Malfoy!” she bellowed louder than any Howler he had ever heard.

Having been on the receiving end of that temper previously (and she had never before been this enraged), he bolted out
of the Great Hall faster than a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He didn't care how he looked; anyone in their right mind would have
hastily departed with that screeching banshee coming after them. He knew he was in for it now and he knew he would never
want to deserve her wrath again.

~*~

“Pansy, I already know about the cupids. So the surprise, if it is one, is ruined. You have to tell me if she planned
them because if she didn't…” Draco trailed off shuddering at the thought.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I suppose it's nerves, but really, Draco, since when do you forget to attend to your hair?” she replied,
amusement lacing her words.

“I need to know Pans. I can't let this be ruined,” he gritted as he grabbed both her arms, ready to shake the truth out
of her one way or another.

“Stop! Unhand me!” she angrily spat, but her eyes held a glint of mischief. “Fine, fine. I'll tell you this: nothing is
going to be ruined. She is aware of everything, but you may be in for a pleasant surprise or two. That's all I'm
saying.” Appeased by that knowledge, Draco let Pansy finish her preening ministrations.

“There! You are the vision of excellence we are all so accustomed to seeing,” she said patronizingly.

“Thanks. How much longer?” he nervously asked just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Draco, it's time. Come on, unless you want to be the victim of the Weaslette's temper,” Greg called through the now
slightly ajar door, his eyes dancing in merriment at his joke.

“Ha ha. You're actually funnier than you are daft. And that's saying something,” Draco drawled, thinking back to the
last day, at least he hoped it was the last, he was a victim of the Weaslette's temper.

~*~

Draco had shot out of the Great Hall toward the entrance doors. It was the shortest distance to another place, any place
away from the possessed witch who was following him. She was fast, that one, for a little as she was. He thought his
long legs would make it hard for her to keep up, but sheer determination had her right on his tail. He had only gotten
as far as the closest tree, but it would do. It would offer a barrier between the two of them and maybe, just maybe, he
could feign innocence and get out of this in one piece.

Scampering behind the tree and holding out one long finger, which he waggled back and forth, Draco tried reason. “Now,
hang on just a minute here, Weaslette. You have no-”

“Don't you DARE tell me what to do! How DARE you humiliate me AND Harry in front of the entire school! That is a new low
for even YOU! And I thought your father was evil. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, now does it!”

She had started with gusto and volume, but ended with tears and disgust. That bit about his father was his undoing.
Draco had idolized his father until he ended up in Azkaban. It was a rude awakening to the real Lucius. Draco may be a
Malfoy and he may be a Slytherin, but he was not Lucius. Tree be damned, he wasn't going to stand here and be put in the
same category with his father. Stepping out from behind the shielding oak, Draco's hands balled into fists.

“You have no idea what you're taking about. I am nothing like Lucius. You and your Gryffindor mates think you have it
all figured out, but you don't know me. I hate the lot of you. I hate you!” he yelled, fighting tears of his own.

“I do too know you! You are spoiled, arrogant, clever, resourceful, sly, you love chocolate, are good at potions and you
are even funny from time to time. And I hate you too!” she cried.

He was stunned that she could know him that well and shocked to see how distraught she was as those big mahogany eyes
melted his heart. His fingers itched to swipe away the tears that freely flowed down her freckle-dusted flushed cheeks.

“You-you are clever, too, and strong, and fast. You have a brilliant sense of humor and you're quicker with a wand than
anyone I know. And…and you hate me, too?” he asked disbelievingly.

She nodded and gave out a little sigh. He couldn't hold back any longer. One elegant, manicured finger delicately swiped
away the tears from first one cheek, then the other, and rested just under her chin, tilting it up.

She looked at him with an understanding, and a longing he hadn't seen before or maybe he just hadn't noticed. She closed
her eyes; dark lashes feathered down over moist cheeks. His heart jumped in his chest and his stomach tumbled like he
had just gone into a Wronski Feint.

~*~

He was feeling that way again today, his heart and stomach reenacting those sensations, as he stood there with a small
gathering of friends and soon-to-be family on the grounds of Hogwarts, waiting. Waiting again, like he had that day,
waiting for her to make it happen. And then she was there, coming out the castle doors on her father's arm in all her
glory.

Angles would be envious today. Not even Aphrodite could hold a candle to the stunning woman walking toward him. Her
robes of white silk and lace clung to her curves showing just how much she had matured since they were last here under
this tree, their tree. Her coppery hair shimmered in the sunlight as the streaks of gold reflected the light giving her
a natural halo. Her eyes were sparkling like amber diamonds and her red lips spread into a smile as they held each
other's gaze. This was it; this moment was the climax of his relationship with her.

Her father placed her hand in Draco's with instructions to care for his baby. Draco nodded in assent, as he pulled his
bride to his side. Unable to take his eyes off the beauty before him, he missed most of the ceremony. He remembered his
part and said what he was supposed to, but he never let his eyes leave the love of his life. Most of the pomp and
circumstance would be lost on him, as he was lost in her. However, he did not miss the words `kiss your bride'; he did
not need to be told twice. He leaned in and captured her lips feeling like it was the first time.

~*~

The seconds that passed before his lips brushed against hers felt like years; the anticipation was overwhelming. The
kiss was soft and gentle as it began, like all first kisses are. Quickly it turned needy, hungry and passionate. His
lips were covering hers, pulling, nipping, and pleading for more. She eagerly complied, ravishing his mouth with hers.
He caressed the seam of her lips with his tongue, coaxing them open and deepening the kiss. He felt her fingers slide
through his hair and draw his head closer. He moved his hands to her waist, and stroked her tongue with his, eliciting a
moan from her throat as he tugged her closer until the swells and hollows of their bodies melded together.

“Bloody hell, Gin! The whole school is out here, for Circe's sake,” her brother scolded.

They jumped apart to see that apparently the whole school had come out to see what would happen. Draco smirked, knowing
they couldn't have anticipated this; this was the stuff legends were made of.

~*~

Kissing Ginny had been like breathing for the first time. Draco never really felt alive before that day, before she had
been the oxygen he had always needed, but couldn't find, like that nightmare when he was swimming and couldn't reach the
surface to breathe. She was that breath.

“And now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” announced the ministry officiate, waking Draco out of his reverie.
“Please follow Draco and Ginny to the Great Hall for refreshments and dancing.”

Once they had arrived in the Great Hall, Draco was astounded to see all the cupids ornately strewn throughout the place.
He glanced to his right, where his new wife was holding his hand and choking back laughter.

“Gin, what is this?” he cautiously asked, gesturing to the cupids with his unoccupied hand.

“Just wait, Draco. Be pat-,” she giggled as she was interrupted.

“Oy, you! Draco Malfoy!” shouted a very unwanted, recognizable voice.

Draco whipped his head around to see the grim-looking dwarf dressed as cupid, charmed wings included.

“I've got a musical message to deliver to you this day,” the cupid began, grasping his twanging harp.

His eyes are gray like smoldering ash

His hair as light as a cloud

I'm so glad he is mine, he's really divine,

The Malfoy who I love and cherish as I vowed

Draco would have given all the gold in Gringotts to have a Time-Turner just then, feeling his cheeks pinken in
embarrassment as the entire room exploded with laughter.

“Ginny Weas-,” he was cut off mid-sentence.

“That's Ginny Malfoy, now. Thank you very much. And no need to thank me. I knew you would enjoy having a little song I
wrote just for you,” she said cheekily, kissing him gently and seductively with promises of what was yet to come this
night.

Placated by her affection, Draco let it go with only one thing left to say. “Let it be known, Mrs. Malfoy, that if I
ever see that dwarf again, I'll hex him faster than you can say stupid cupid.”

Smiling broadly, she purred, “I hate you, Draco Malfoy.”

“I hate you, too,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers in another long, slow, drugging kiss.

******

A/N: This was inspired by two friends and their faboulous fanfics, Rainpuddle and her saga, beginning with Tangled Weg,
and Ginnysdarkside and her fic, Somedays I Wish I Was in Slytherin.

Thank you so much, Cindale, for the quick beta! You rock!

Kaz814, you're the best! If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have had this plot bunny!

Credit to Ginnydarkside for the "I hate you" lines, thanks hon!