P.S. I Hate You

P.S. I Hate You

This title has been stuck in my head for weeks now, begging me to write something for it and I came up with this and had to get it out of my system before I went to bed! It's just a one-shot for now, but based on what everyone wants, I thought about doing an epilogue type of a thing. Happy reading!

WARNING: Serious romance…ha-ha…prepare yourself!

* * * *

It all started with that dratted singing valentine in her first year. Why oh why had she thought that would ever be a good idea? Eyes as green as pickled-toad…seriously? Anyway, that's where it started - this torture. Ever since her public humiliation in the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ginny Weasley had received an annual valentine…

It never came at meals with the rest of the post, instead it found its way to her when she was gleaning a moment of alone time she so rarely got in a day. Crazy though it may sound, she always knew when it was to arrive because the air got unnaturally still around her and she swore that if she listening carefully, she could just hear someone behind her, watching her. She always turned around, but nothing but the stillness she had sought out lingered behind her.

In Ginny's second year it simply read,

Your hair is red like a rose

Your freckles brown like dirt

I like how they are sprinkled cross your nose

And I also like your shirt.

Sure, it had been elementary, but she guessed the person who wrote it was probably in her year, so advanced poetry wasn't really expected from a twelve or thirteen-year-old. While the poem was highly unromantic and said nothing of the author's feelings for anything other than her shirt and her freckles, it wasn't the poem itself that intrigued her, it was the bottom line.

P.S. I hate you

This had really upset her during her second year, the first time she had received such a valentine, thinking that it had been some practical joke, meant to get her hopes up about a secret admirer and then tear them down. She had thrown the valentine in her trunk and had left it there over the summer, never thinking about it again until her third year when her next ominous valentine arrived.

Your hair is still drenched in color

A color so deep I can feel it,

I can't imagine another

Running their hands through it.

P.S. I hate you.

Again, Ginny was dumbfounded by the cryptic message the author was sending her. Did he hate her or was he decidedly jealous of the boys who had been eyeing her? It was at this point that she pulled out her valentine from the previous year and tucked it away for safe-keeping with the newest addition to her stack of valentines.

As a fourth year, Ginny had become particularly popular with the boys of Hogwarts, attracting most with her dark crimson hair spilling down to the small of her back in undulating waves. Her freckles were much less prominent but were still a dominant feature of her heart-shaped face. Her nose was slightly upturned and her eyes mysterious pools of russet which sparkled when she laughed. Still underdeveloped for her age though, Ginny felt awkward compared to her female classmates, most of whom sported some amount of curves.

This was the year of Michael Corner…the beginning of a long line of boyfriends for the youngest Weasley. This was also the same year she had effectively taken out Draco Malfoy with a Bat-Bogey Curse, much to her twin brothers' admiration. She was beginning to shine as one of Hogwarts' most popular - especially within the Gryffindor House. Everyone noticed everything about her, but she never noticed one person always watching her…

Valentines Day is here again,

I can still see your glowing smile,

I can still see your effect over men

In my eyes, all that attention is vile.

P.S. I hate you.

Once more, there was a jealous overtone of the message, but she couldn't place the attitude with anyone she had ever come in contact with. Ginny never told anyone about these valentines because they were special - it was something she had that no one else had and attention from someone her brother wouldn't be chasing off. Part of her wondered if it was the work of Voldemort, trying something similar to what had happened to her in her first year, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that led her to believe it was something else, something more.

Fifth year finally rolled around and Dean Thomas was her number one flame. For a short while, she thought maybe Harry was her “secret not-so-admirer” but was quickly proven wrong when the next valentine came to her, this time at sunset on the Quidditch pitch while she was practicing alone.

Your hair looks aflame in the night

Potter doesn't deserve you,

Don't do something rash out of spite

Remember what I have warned you.

P.S. I hate you.

Out of all of the valentines she ever received to her dying day, this one was the most mysterious, warranting many hours thought to this. At least he had finally mentioned a name so she could narrow it down by one person. When she did end up dating Harry at the end of the year, nothing went as planned; she supposed she only dated Harry to get back at Ron for being so hypocritical with Lavender, but when things went awry at the end of the year, leaving her heartbroken and alone, she wished she would have heeded her admirer's advice.

Ginny had been noticing that each year she paid less and less attention to the end note of each valentine and fell in love more and more with the author. She gleaned every amount of information she could from the few words she received every year and looked forward to February 14^th every day of the year, beginning the moment after she had read her newest valentine.

By her sixth year, she was hanging onto the hopes of finding this mysterious writer, looking for someone suspicious in every venue, but whenever she went snooping about, she only found the ever unhelpful Malfoy and his highly unintelligent baboons. It was beginning to frustrate her to no end to know that there had been someone out there faithfully writing her valentines every year. Granted, they weren't romantic, but there was something in them that made her crave more.

Obsessed though she was, nothing in her next valentine provided any hope that she would find him soon.

My funny Valentine,

Sweet, comic valentine

You make me smile with my heart

Your looks are laughable

Unphotographable

Yet you're my favorite work of art.

P.S. These words are not mine, as you can tell, but nothing says it quite so well…

Her heart skipped a beat.

Where was the line she had invested all her happiness in? Surely just because he hadn't put it in didn't mean his feelings were changing. She loved that he always ended it with something negative…almost as if he couldn't stand the thought of leaving off with something sweet…

Then she spotted it, half-way down the page…

P.P.S. I hate you.

Don't think I'd forget that…

She sighed with relief. The “I hate you” always made up for any amount of creepiness these notes may have held in them. It was what made this guy unique.

Ginny's seventh year went by uneventfully. She had been made Head Girl but was painfully aware she had not been doing half as good a job as Hermione had. She had finally filled out slightly, acquiring a small chest and a widened set of hips and felt more at peace with her body.

She walked the halls, still thinking of her secret Valentine's Day admirer, wondering if he was still around this year or if he had graduated with her brother's class. She crossed her fingers every night, wishing and hoping that come the fourteenth of February, she would be pleasantly surprised.

As autumn crept by, she reveled in the breezy environment that was October and November and relished in the beautiful coloring out by the lake. It had become customary that she snuck out after dark to sit beneath the almost naked trees, allowing herself the pleasure that the crunching leaves beneath her feet afforded her. She kept this tradition throughout the cold, bitter winter, through snow and shine. This spot was where her sixth valentine found her, on her knees under her favorite tree, a single tear rolling down her cheek, thinking she had been forgotten.

Desperately, she opened the small white envelope and drank in the words that the neat parchment and simplistic handwriting afforded her.

It is impossible to forget you

I find your face everywhere I look

Hear your laughter everywhere too

Six years and my sanity you took.

P.S. I hate you.

Ginny's heart melted. He loved her. She knew he did! It was driving him mad to be apart! She caught the bird just in time before it flew back to its owner and she scribbled her own message, sending it off with the large hawk, tears of joy this time flooding her eyes.

* * * *

He had watched her - it's true. He'd watched her since the first step she had taken onto the Hogwarts Express her first year. He'd seen her squirm under the sorting hat; seen her blush furiously with the mention of Potter's name; seen her flirt with other guys at school; seen her face go alight with the joy of passing an exam, and fall with her failures. He'd seen it all, and she'd not seen him watching.

Every Valentine's Day, he sent her a special poem, letting her know that she wasn't living a solitary life - that she had meaning to someone. He didn't know why or where these feelings came from. He hadn't ever felt this way about any person or thing in his life thus far, and he knew in the pit of his stomach that he would never feel it again for anyone short of Ginevra Weasley.

So when his hawk, Logan, came soaring back through his window of his opulent flat (purchased with the Malfoy fortune) carrying a scrap of parchment, he was shocked beyond words. Had she figured out who he was? Did that prospect bring about excitement or dread? Was he ready to accept responsibility for these uncharted feelings?

For ten or fifteen minutes, he simply stared at the paper, not wanting to open it and be disappointed before he resigned himself to read it.

In a loopy, hurried scrawl was written:

Happy Valentines Day to you too

I cannot forget any more than you can

If you feel as you say you do

Come meet me - be a man…

You know when…

At the park in Hogsmeade.

P.S. I hate you too.

P.P.S. I apologize for the bad rhyming.

Draco Malfoy's heart leapt into his throat. She wanted to meet him. And she loved him…she really loved him.

* * * *

The following year, February 14^th rolled around and Draco Malfoy was painfully aware of what day it was. It was the day that his whole happiness hinged on. He had tried so hard to put off thinking about it but had failed miserably as the second he walked out of his flat, red, pink, and white hearts and cherubs greeted his eyes in a sickening display of commercialized…valentine-ness.

He had prepared something special and had been carrying it around in his cloak pocket all day, often reaching his hand in just to feel the crisp parchment between his fingers.

Many passersby on the streets gave him odd looks, obviously worried as to why a Malfoy would be smiling so broadly, so openly. Most of them would have dropped dead if they knew that the reason for this happiness was purely Ginevra Molly Weasley and all her charm.

He had gone to several shops, both Muggle and magic and was prepared for the evening, just as he hoped she was.

* * * *

Ginny had never been so nervous in her life. She hadn't been able to sleep the night before for her stomach being tangled up in a dozen knots. It was five o' clock and she was to meet her mystery man in the park a few miles from her flat in forty-nine minutes. The park was about a ten minutes walk for her, so luckily she had some time to relax before she had to leave - that was something she hadn't done in days.

This was big. Everything that remained constant and true to her for the last six years hinged on this evening and who this man turned out to be. Part of her dreaded the meeting - what if it was someone she was not attracted to, after all, it's not as though she had much to go on other than the fact that he had written her every year for six years faithfully and had always managed to make her feel inexplicably loved. But maybe, just maybe, he was everything she had been dreaming of.

For the occasion, Ginny had chosen to wear a modest but beautiful gold dress, falling to her shins in uneven layers, clinging tightly to her torso and allowing a small amount of cleavage to be seen peeking out of the top of the corset top, which laced gorgeously in the back. The halter neckline was enhanced by her simplest and most elegant piece of jewelry - a small golden chain suspending a single marquee-shaped emerald. She had seen it in a Muggle pawn shop and had thought it was beautiful. She'd never worn it - but tonight just felt right.

Her still-long crimson hair fell in curls down her back, the front half pulled back to keep it out of her eyes. Her makeup was perfect, her shoes were gorgeous stiletto heels…everything was just right.

Checking herself one last time and grabbing her black faux fur coat that the twins had given her that past Christmas, Ginny Weasley walked out of her apartment and left that dull life solidly behind her.

* * * *

Not at all cold due to her extreme amount of excitement, Ginny walked up to the edge of the prettily landscaped park to find all the street lamps on the surrounding blocks put out. Instead she saw the soft glow of what appeared to be candles decorating the gazebo in the center of the park elaborately. It was dusk when she got there - right on time. Seeing no one in the gazebo, she decided to investigate further. At the step of the intricate wooden structure, she shed her coat and purse, letting her mouth drop open in awe.

Anywhere a candle could fit, there they were, all lit up, providing just enough light in the last few minutes before dark to allow her to see the inside of the gazebo through a faint glow. Scarlet roses were woven through the wooden lattices all around and petals sprinkled the floor. It was just as she took it all in that she heard a pair of determined footsteps behind her.

“Happy Anniversary,” a familiar voice said evenly, daring her to turn around and finally drink in the face that had been blank in so many of her dreams.

Slowly, Ginny began to turn, unknowingly closing her eyes as she did so. When she knew she had turned all the way around, she stopped but did not open her eyes - instead, she squeezed the shut tighter.

At this, she was welcomed with a warm chuckle before she felt warm, masculine hands cupping either side of her face, allowing her to sigh in the happiness just knowing she was with this mystery man, whoever he ended up being.

Slowly, he tipped her face up towards him and his lips met hers in a soft, reassuring kiss that sent chills up and down Ginny's spine, as well as his own. For a single moment, the were united in the most perfect way - her blind to his looks but loving him anyway, and him blind to her family history and loving her anyway.

When they broke apart after only a few moments, he finally spoke again.

“Open your eyes, Weasley.”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of her last name. No one had ever called her that except one person…

“Malfoy,” she half-asked, half-breathed in disbelief.

For the first time, their eyes met and her chocolate eyes seared into his grey ones, for the first time being able to see past his hardened expression and into the depths of his soul. She stood there motionless, simply taking in every detail of him - his chiseled and well-defined square jaw, his soft grey eyes, his firm build and great height - towering five inches over her at the least.

Her first instinct was to yell, but it quickly subsided as she realized she did not know Malfoy, she had simply thought she had. There's no doubt he had been a prat to her family during school, but his words on paper meant more to her than anything he had ever sad back then.

“It's you,” she breathed, smiling for the first time since she saw him.

“No, Weasley, it's you - it's always been you,” Draco insisted, taking a step closer to her again and pulling her into an intimate hug.

“Why did you never say something in school?”

“Do you think we would have had a chance in that school?” Draco asked, smiling - something she deemed beautiful in its own right. “We barely have a chance outside it. We were prejudiced back then and the rest of the school would have complicated things. Besides, I quite liked how things happened, didn't you?”

Unable to truly speak coherent thoughts, Ginny settled for nodding, looking up into the face of the man she'd been dreaming of for the last six years of her life.

“That said,” the handsome man stepped back, grasping both of her hands in one of his and pulling out his parchment, “we have a ritual to continue.”

Ginny smiled radiantly and allowed a tear to roll down her face uncaught.

“I loved you without knowing you,

I've loved you most of my life,

Now there's one thing I'll ask you to do…”

At this, Draco Malfoy did the most unthinkable, un-Malfoy thing anyone could have expected and he got down on one knee, his hand shaking only slightly but his face portraying a practiced confidence.

“Do me the honor of being my wife.”

There was nothing for Ginny to do but cry as he produced a small silver band, sporting a square-cut diamond. She simply laughed and nodded as he slid it on her fourth finger of her left hand before picking her up and swinging her around wildly.

As soon as he set her back on the ground, she did the only thing she could think of and grabbed his neck, forcing his lips to hers roughly. She knew they were moving fast, and acting despite all they'd been taught, but she didn't care at all - they were young and in love and that kind of thing can only happen once. She already felt connected to Draco in a way that she had never felt toward any other guys she'd ever dated.

In response to her kiss, Draco took her bottom lip in his and gently tugged at it, begging for entrance. He'd been fantasizing about this his whole life and now, it would finally happen. As she opened his mouth to accommodate his searching tongue, she met his upon entrance, and began exploring his mouth as if she didn't have one more day to wait. Reluctantly, Draco pulled away from her, a sly look on his face.

“Hey, I almost forgot, P.S. I hate you.”

Ginny smiled but had to ask, “Why did you always put that?”

“Because I do hate you for everything you've done to me. You've given me something to look forward to n my lifetime and something to reach for and hope for. You're something my father couldn't get for me through the power of persuasion. I wanted you more than anything I knew I could never have you…I hated it. I hated that I loved you without regret, without questioning and that I know I will for the rest of my life.”

Knowing there was nothing she could say that could ever match his speech, she settled for the only thing she could think of.

“I hate you too.”

* * * *

So, it was actually fairly long and I've been thinking about writing their wedding in but it's almost three-thirty and I've been up all night writing out this little plot bunny, so that will all be dependant on when you want!

Oh yes, and the lyrics to “My Funny Valentine” by Frank Sinatra were used in the valentine from Ginny's sixth year! Not mine! :)

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