This was originally a fic for the DG Fic Exchange written for slytherinwench.
Thank you so much to Persephone33 for the wonderfully quick and fantastic beta given from her death bed!
Also, thank you to SparkNotes for their absolutely wonderful synopsis of Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw, as this
fic is loosely based upon that play.
I do not own anything relatively Harry Potter related nor the play that this story was based upon. I do, however, own
my own characterizations, the additional offshoots of the story line, and other various bits throughout the story.
The original prompt was as follows:
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive:
The tone/mood of the fic: It can have its dark points, but I'd like a non-wrist slitting
ending.
A Theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: Pygmalion, My Fair Lady, etc. (Draco
has to make her into a Lady for whatever purpose)
Canon or AU? Either
Rating of the the fic you want: Any, but I do adore NC-17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Weak, sissy or crying Draco
~~~~
It was a beautiful day in Diagon Alley. The birds were chirping, the children were playing, and couples were out to enjoy one of the few beautiful spring days that England had to offer. Everything was new and green. The little grotto around the pond at the far end of the street had been reconstructed after the war, and children were making use of the playground that accompanied the benches, little stone walkways, and trees made for secret romancers to kiss in seclusion.
Ginny Weasley was sitting outside behind a booth advertising her brothers' business, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She glanced around at the playing children, their harried mothers, and the women carrying shopping bags and staring longingly into windows. She smiled to herself at the beauty of the day, and then grimaced at the garish yellow of the t-shirt she'd paired with her blue jeans. Muggle clothing suited this sort of thing best as her robes often ended up torn and irreparably dirty either from playing with children or doing a demonstration with one of the new products being advertised.
This area of Diagon Alley had become a sort of bazaar, much like an open air market. Normally, Ginny would have felt quite self-conscious attempting to sell products among the more affluent that frequented some of the shops, but the others were set up a respectable distance away from the `booth-that-occasionally-exploded.'
Ginny had become so consumed by her observations of the scene around her that she hadn't noticed the storm clouds quickly moving in. She wasn't alone; no one else seemed to notice either. Unfortunately, there were no warning drops, merely a sudden downpour that forced the occupants of Diagon Alley into whatever building they could to seek refuge.
Ginny started cramming all of the exposed products underneath the overhang of the booth before grabbing her bag and running as fast as she could into a quaint little chapel. Several people were already inside, and the children that were caught in the deluge were whimpering in response to the severity of the sudden storm.
Several minutes passed and the storm showed no signs of letting up. She reached in her bag for her wand to dry her drenched clothing, but, much to her chagrin, all that the bag contained was sample products from WWW.
Ginny's t-shirt stuck to her uncomfortably, her jeans were chafing, and the constant whining of children was slowly giving her a headache. "Buggering fuck. This is just my luck."
She looked around the room trying to spot someone she knew: most people were in animated conversation. Ginny sighed and began to rub her temples as she sunk to the ground. She leaned against a wall, and her bag fell over to expose the contents.
"What are those?" a small child asked Ginny.
"Oh, those are products from my brothers' store. Want to give them a try?" Soon a small group of children were gathered around Ginny all contented in the fact that some were bright orange with purple polka dots and others were howling like monkeys.
Across the hall, two men were observing the scene from a darkened alcove. The darker haired, olive-skinned one spoke first. "Oy, Weasley finally grew a pair of tits, didn't she? Bloody good pair, too," Blaise commented to his companion.
"They aren't bad. She's probably just trying to draw attention to herself leaving her clothes wet. Why doesn't she use her wand and dry them? Common and low-class as always."
"You shouldn't say things like that, mate. She's got a ferocious temper and she'll beat you bloody over saying shite like that. I might add that, common or not, she's got a bloody fantastic pair of tits. She should walk around wet all the time."
"Thank you for the imagery, Blaise. I'll have to use a Pensieve to get it out of my head."
"All I'm saying is there could be a lot worse things to have running around in your head. I'd be willing to bet that she'd clean up well enough, if that's what it took."
"What are you on about?"
"I'm just saying, if I had a bird--"
"Not another word about anyone's bird, Blaise."
"I know it's a secret, but someone else is going to pick her up eventually if you don't stake your claim, mate."
"I won't even dignify that with a response."
"You should. I'm serious, mate. Contrary to your way of thinking, I see blokes noticing her regularly. Eventually, she's going to get tired of turning down dates in lieu of having a secret romance, even if her secret romancer is - oh, how did my illustrious sister Amelia put it? Oh, yes, even if her romancer is `sex on heels'."
"Blaise, put a sock in it."
"What language! I might be offended if I weren't trying to get you to pull your head out of your arse."
"Look, we'll go public when we go public. As for now, I'm perfectly content with the way things are progress, as; I'm sure, is she."
"Think what you like mate, but you can't keep a bird like that caged up forever. It's your choices that determine whether she'll fly to you or away forever."
The pair stood in silence for a moment, but Blaise couldn't leave well-enough alone. "Mate, I've got a proposition."
"You're propositioning me? You're a dirty boy, Blaise."
"Not literally. A proposition concerning the fair Weasley."
"No."
"Come on, chap. It'll be good fun."
"Fine, I'll bite, but only to get you to shut up about it."
"Don't pout; it's not a good look for you."
"Shut up and state your terms."
"Given that I'm a terribly magnanimous individual, I'll be fair. You know I am a philanthropist at heart."
"A philanthropist? Are you joking?"
"Oh, you have no idea of my philanthropic nature. Now shut it and let me think for a moment."
"Get to the point. The rain is letting up."
Blaise tapped his chin thoughtfully, "I'll bet that you couldn't get the luscious Ginny Weasley to pass for respectable on all accounts in time for the Christmas Ball at your estate."
"No."
"No? I bet I could make it worth your while."
Silvery blonde eyebrows shot up to a pristine hairline. "Oh, really? What is it that you think you can offer me that is so attractive that I'll give up regular, hot sex with a ginger-haired vixen?"
"My Vanquish."
Eyes the size of small saucers looked upon the olive-skinned boy. "You'd bet your Aston Martin? Are you mad?"
"Dead serious, mate."
"You know I could buy one myself instead of winning it off of you?"
"Of course, but that would take all the fun out of it, yeah?"
Wheels began to turn in the fair-haired man's head. What Blaise said was true, indeed. A bit of sport never hurt anyone, right? The thought of winning the world-class automobile did prove alluring. Against his better judgment, he spoke, "You condemn yourself to failure with your generosity. I'll take that bet."
"What if I win?" Blaise asked.
"You understand that isn't possible, but, for the sake of argument, I'll allow you to name your terms."
Blaise's face took on an undignified smirk. "All right, when I win, I'll expect you to properly court my sister. You know the only respectable choices domestically are Daphne, Pansy or my sister. Then you have to go international. At least my sister isn't a simpering idiot or a foreigner."
"Surely, you're joking."
"Dead serious, mate. I'll also remind you that I expect you to do the work on Miss Weasley yourself. No hiring this job out. You have to be, for lack of a better term, hands on with the lady."
Draco shivered at the thought of bedding Blaise's sister. She wasn't unpleasant to look at, and it was true that she had a quick mind. Plus, Draco knew from personal experience that the woman had talents elsewhere, but the allure of picking up the car off of Blaise proved to be too much. A smirk lit his features. "I'll take those odds considering you'll surely lose. Now, when I win, I'll expect that glorious piece of equipment delivered to my flat in London."
A little voice spoke up in the mind of Blaise's companion. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. Maybe he could get Blaise to call it off rather than lose face himself. How to go about doing it was going to be tricky. By the look on his friend's face, he'd wager that he was having second thoughts about losing his precious Aston Martin. It would take one final nail to seal the coffin.
"Well, then, that eliminates several problems I was having."
"I'm so glad I could be of help, you wanker."
"Well, I not only get to appear in public with the woman I've already put quite a bit of effort into, but I get to do it in my brand new car. I also get Amelia off my back, and, when I do marry Ginny, your mother will continue to harangue you about finding a suitable wife for yourself and husband for your sister. That, in turn, means you'll quit nattering to me about all of your conquests. I can see no drawbacks in this competition for myself."
Blaise ground his teeth together. "Mmm."
Truly hoping that the bet was, at this point, null and void, he said, "So, the bet is on?"
Blaise flashed a completely false smile and extended his hand, "Absolutely."
Draco clapped his hands together dramatically even though his mind was trembling at the prospect of telling Ginny. "This should be interesting. Intrigue is something we always had a talent for."
The rain stopped, the clouds parted, and the sun began to shine again. The crowd began to trickle back into the street. Mothers began gathering their children from Ginny's impromptu playgroup, and Ginny got up and brushed herself off.
"I've got to get going, mate. My mother and sister are over in the corner simpering because their robes might get wet in a puddle, but they still refuse to go home. I suppose I couldn't convince you to help me carry them about Diagon Alley?" Blaise questioned.
"Sounds like loads of fun, but I'll have to pass. I have other pressing engagements. Maybe another time."
"Suit yourself. I'm sure my sister will be highly affronted that Draco Malfoy doesn't want to carry her fat arse around to the shops. I'll be sure to send your regards." Blaise left with a smirk on his face and managed to get his sister and mother out of the chapel with minimal fuss.
Ginny was still busy picking up the remnants of packaging and exploded WWW products when Draco walked up behind her, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against him. Standing bolt upright Ginny felt his breath on her neck.
"Why didn't you dry your clothes?"
"I left my wand in my other bag back at the booth. I didn't feel like running out in the rain to get the bag or the wand."
Draco's fingertips drug into the skin of Ginny's hips with more force. "Do you know how hard it was not to throttle Blaise for commenting on the state of your breasts? I almost skinned him."
"Oh, really? Did poor ickle Drakie get all up in a huff?"
Draco growled low in his throat. "There is nothing poor or little about me or my parts. As for being up, I'd assume you could feel the evidence of my attraction to you."
Ginny laughed and turned in Draco's arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, is that what that is? I thought it was your wand."
Draco dipped his head low to kiss the tip of Ginny's nose and ground his hips into hers. "Draco, honestly, we're in a chapel. I may not be religious in the slightest, but there are certain things even I think are improper to do in a church."
"Like what?" he said as he kissed his way down the side of her neck.
"Like you pawing me. Stop it!"
"We're going to end up making it official eventually at any rate. It isn't as if we can't right all the sins later, Gin."
Ginny sighed and leveled her eyes at the blond-haired man. "Don't say things you don't mean, Malfoy. You know you're never going to take this public. If you ever intended to, you'd have done so already. As it stands now, you continue to worry about the fact that it wouldn't be any good for your image."
"Who says I don't mean them? You know I can't wait to have little ginger-haired babies."
"Draco, I had no idea you felt that way - about Ron," Ginny deadpanned.
"Wench, you certainly know how to kill an erection."
"I know how to bring one back, too." She rubbed herself suggestively against Draco. He moaned low in this throat.
"Ginny-"
"Not now, Draco. We're in a chapel. We'll have dinner tonight, and I'll be the dessert."
"You're evil."
"And you love it."
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