A/N- I know it's been a while since I've posted anything anywhere, but things have been a lot busier than I would like them to be. In fact, I pulled an all-nighter to finish the original version of this fic because I had no other free time.
Because of that, I have decided that I am going to post this story in smaller chapters, rather than all in one go, especially because I would like to rework the ending of it and flesh it out so it doesn't sound so rushed. The first few chapters should be posted rather quickly before things slow down.
As You Wish
I suppose a lot of this could be my fault.
I've always been the adventurous type, and I knew it was only a matter of time before that aspect of my personality caught up with me.
But now is neither the time nor place to discuss how I created this mess. (That will be revealed later.) No, for now, I'd like to focus on how our couple got together, how through all the odds and mutual bickering they grew to have feelings other than pure hatred and disgust for one another. It's quite unbelievable, I know, but it does happen.
Our story begins with a man not unlike myself. A man who likes to have a bit of fun, likes to have an adventure or two, and gosh darn it if he didn't want his friends to have a little adventure every once in a while too.
And, really, the poor dear did have the best intentions at heart and I must commend him for that, but well, sometimes his efforts aren't appreciated until later. Much, much later, in his case.
Either way, Blaise Zabini is also a thoughtful man who cares fiercely about his friends and will do just about anything to see them happy.
So, I must introduce Mr. Zabini's best friend, Draco Malfoy.
A Type-A personality with a can-do attitude about his business ventures, Draco can be a bit of a - oh, what's the term? - oh, yes. Draco can be a bit of a fun sponge, as of late. A complete and total workaholic, he pours himself into his work, to the point where he doesn't take the time to slow down and appreciate life. And at 23, that's pretty sad, to be quite honest.
Draco spends most of nights in his office, his dinner having been delivered to said office by his mother, Narcissa, who frets constantly over the state of her son's social life (he was lacking in one at the time of our tale's beginning). More often than not, he sleeps on the pull-out sofa in his office, a gift from Blaise, and therefore rarely spends anytime in his swanky bachelor's pad in the nicer part of Diagon Alley.
"Such is life," he'd been known to say, when asked about his dedication to work, and the last time he was in a relationship (and, as a result, got some arse) was when he was 18.
As I would like to say, "That is a bleak existence indeed."
Bless Blaise and Narcissa, though, for trying to set Draco up with some potential play in-between the sheets, but our blond hero was just not having any of that.
"Too skinny," "Too plain," "Not smart enough," are his top excuses for not liking a girl. I've never met a bloke as picky as him.
Be that as it may, in a last ditch attempt to bring some excitement (and maybe a bird?) into Draco's life, Blaise ever-so-graciously gifted his best friend with the most unexpected of gifts.
* * * * * * * *
"I can't believe you talked me into this nonsense."
"What? You agreed to have lunch with me and this is technically on the way to the restaurant. Just think of this as a nice side trip."
"To a harem?"
"Pfft. This isn't a harem. It's a small shop owned by a very lovely woman. I'm here to pick something up."
"And what, exactly, in Merlin's name are you picking up?"
"Oh, nothing. Just a gift for a friend of mine."
* * * * * * * *
The next day, Draco walked into his office to find a thin, vertical package sitting on his desk.
It was wrapped in deep crimson paper, the texture of papyrus, with a purple bow on top.
Used to such strange packages (often declarations of absolute devotion from the fairer sex, but, again, the last time those were seen was back in his Hogwarts days) and also one to never look a gift horse in the mouth, Draco gingerly unwrapped the parcel to discover a white box with a note resting on top.
Draco placed the note aside, already knowing who the gift was from, and opened the box, pulling out a dusty bottle of Firewhisky.
The blond man popped his head out of his office, casting a look at his saint of a secretary, Margaret.
"Margaret, be a dear and tell Zabini to get his arse down to my office. Immediately."
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Already done," she replied, flashing him a smile.
About five minutes later, Blaise walked in with a little too much pep in his step for his friend's liking.
"Any particular reason you decided to gift me with a dusty bottle of Firewhisky?"
"Oh, so I see you got my gift!" Blaise replied, walking over to grab the bottle.
"Yes, that's great and all. Thank you very much and so on, but is there any specific reason why you bought me this?"
"What? Can't a guy buy his best mate some alcohol to numb the pain of having no life to speak of outside the office?"
Draco narrowed his eyes, before leaning against his desk. "Coming from you, it gives me even more reason to be suspicious."
"Relax, Draco. There's nothing for you to be worried about. Why don't you open it up and we'll have a drink."
The other man glanced reluctantly at the bottle of liquor before looking back at his friend.
"I don't know, Blaise. We're on the clock and I'd rather not be caught drinking on the job."
"Who are you, and what have you done with the real Draco Malfoy?" Blaise asked aghast, a hand on his chest in mock concern.
"What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"
"A couple of years ago, you'd have no problem having a drink on the job. I see now that this will be going to waste, so, if you don't mind, I'll just be taking this back now."
Blaise stepped forward to grab the bottle, but not before his hand was swatted away by Draco.
"Be prepared to be amazed, Zabini," Draco announced, swiping the bottle off the table and opening it up.
Upon the bottle's opening, a searing pain ran through Draco, setting every single nerve on fire, causing his nervous system to go into overdrive. Instinctively, he dropped the bottle to the ground and grabbed onto his wrist in an attempt to ease the pain.
The bottle bounced slightly before dropping to its side, rolling a couple of times until it hit the coffee table in Draco's office.
"Ow! Fucking hell! Way to go, arsehole!"
Blaise and Draco exchanged a look. One of fear, concern, and, from Draco, slight nausea as the pain continued to wreak havoc on his body.
"Did that bottle just call me an 'arsehole'?" Draco asked. He kneeled down, crawling over to where the bottle was.
"Yeah, you bloody wanker! Thanks for dropping my home! This is making me feel so welcome!" the voice inside the bottle shouted.
"Are you back-sassing me?"
"Looks like I found myself a regular genius for a master! I'm such a lucky girl!"
"Master? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Right the bottle and I'll be happy to explain everything."
Draco stood up and grabbed the bottle, placing it in the middle of the room and rushed over to close the door.
The bottle started shaking violently, doing a bottle cha-cha as it began spurting out a cloud of red smoke.
The smoke filled the room, curling around each occupant's feet, thickening and preventing them from seeing two inches in front of them. It began rising and rising, becoming thicker and redder with each shake until it cleared entirely as though an atom bomb had just been dropped, and Blaise and Draco were standing in the fall out.
In the centre was Ginny Weasley holding the bottle of Firewhisky, wearing...wearing, well, I'm not exactly sure what she was wearing.
Ginny would later claim that her outfit and her entrance were chosen for her by the Bottle, as it shall now be called.
The Bottle is a finicky creature. Not really picky about whoever resides in it, just so long as it's a person of magical heritage able to withstand skimpy outfits and years of disappointment. It likes to think that it'll have one occupant for all eternity, but we all know how that turned out. The Bottle's powers are limitless and its origin unknown. It's been around the block once or twice, and although it's ancient, it knows its stuff and will often transform its outer appearance to keep up with the times (and sometimes whoever is trapped within).
It likes to kick it old school Las Vegas-style when it comes to entrances and has a penchant for spitfires and showgirls. It always creates a flashy entrance and Ginny's was flashy, by all means. (I've seen better. Just saying.) The outfit was two parts Disney's Princess Jasmine and one part Bollywood, with a splash of 'oh-shit. Auntie-Lola's-gone-loco-with-the-Bedazzler-again' for good measure.
In short, the outfit was tight, revealing, and had enough sparkles and rhinestones to make Siegfried and Roy bow down in appreciation.
I'm also under the impression that the Bottle has familial relations with Pageant Moms. But don't tell it I said that.
Draco waved a hand in front of his face, coughing as he waved away whatever smoke was left.
"Weasley?" he croaked out.
"Hello, hello! For the next three wishes, I shall be your ever-loyal, all-powerful ge-" She faltered in her speech as she finally opened her eyes, seeing who, exactly, was going to be her new master.
"Oh, hell no. No, no, no. This is not happening," she announced, holding up the Bottle to her face. "I'm sorry, but I refuse." A pause as the Bottle answered. The Bottle has the final say in any binding Genie-Master contracts and, if the Bottle likes its inhabitant enough, will let them have a say in what happens. "But, Bottle-" Ginny whinged. Another long pause as the Bottle replied. "Do you even know who he is?" Even more arguing. "Yes, I know that I'm obligated to-" If the Bottle was a person, specifically Ginny's mum, they'd be giving The Look.
After another long pause, Ginny sighed (overdramatically, I might add. Ginny likes to vehemently argue this point).
"Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me big time."
Ginny sighed once more and began her introductory speech again with a grin, albeit through gritted teeth.
"Hello, hello! For the next three wishes, I shall be your ever-loyal, all-powerful genie! Choose wisely, new master!"
"A genie? You bought me a fucking genie bottle and it turns out it is Weasley?" Draco stomped past Ginny, who relaxed immediately, and began shoving Blaise.
"What?" the other man asked, affronted. "You just looked like you needed some excitement back in your life, and what better way to do that than through this genie lamp? The fact that it's Weasley is simply an amusing little coincidence."
Draco was about to respond when he received a tap on the shoulder. He turned around to see Ginny staring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Look, Malfoy. Neither of us are particularly happy about this. But you opened up the Bottle, and the Bottle isn't letting me out of this, so I'm bound to you for better or for worse."
"You make it sound like we're married," Draco replied, going white as a sheet.
Ginny snorted, "You could say that."
A/N- Thank you to Ellyce for being a fantastic beta reader and for putting up with my shenanigans all the time. Also, thank you to you, the reader, for taking the time to read this!
And a special note to the readers than consistently read my stories, omg please don't kill me for not updating my other stories. Real life has decided to make me its bitch. But I'm really going to make an effort this summer to write more. Feel free to heckle me into writing.
Original Prompt that we sent you:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Draco is a very dedicated businessman who doesn't have any time at all for himself. He gets pressured into buying a genie lamp by his friend, Blaise Zabini [boy]. The reason Blaise wants him to buy the lamp is because he wants Draco's life to be exciting again. Neither Draco nor Blaise expect Ginny to come out of the lamp. Draco decides to make things interesting by telling Ginny to do anything he wants, treating her like a slave until he falls for her.
The tone/mood of the fic: Light and comical, but very romantic.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: I would love for Draco to have something from his childhood, such as a blanky or a teddy bear, which Ginny steals because it smells like him
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: Um, PG-13 or higher.
Canon or AU? Whatever is easier for you!
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): I'm up for anything =]