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This was my [info]smutty_claus fic from last year, written for [info]ari_o.

Loosely based on a film of the same title. Set several years after DH, pre-epilogue.

Warnings/Enticements: some dirty talk, mild dom/sub behavior, oral sex, rimming

Draco checked his watch for what must have been the twentieth time in the last hour, and signaled the waitwitch.

"Another?" she asked, collecting two empty glasses from his table.

"The bill," he replied. "She's nearly an hour late."

The waitwitch gave him what was probably meant to be a sympathetic smile, and walked away.

Draco slung back the rest of his scotch. He hadn't wanted to write this piece in the first place; it was beneath him and everyone at the Daily Prophet knew it. He was a political writer, one who dug beneath the surface and got the leaders of the Wizarding World to spill their darkest secrets. He could do it like no one else, and he had several awards to prove it. He resented having been sent here to cover this sort of fluff piece.

The waitwitch reappeared with the bill, and just as he was giving her a handful of knuts a young woman appeared beside his table. Her long red hair was pulled back from her face, which was mostly covered by large dark glasses. Draco frowned at her, and she smiled before pulling the glasses off.

"So sorry I'm late."

The waitwitch wheeled about and gasped, "Mrs. Potter!" and as she did every head in the place seemed to turn towards them. There was a distinct change in the sound of the lounge as people whispered and pointed, some even digging out cameras.

Ginny Potter shrugged and smiled again, a brilliant, magically-enhanced smile. "Yes, of course -- Mandy, is it?"

"Matilda," the waitwitch said. She couldn't have grinned broader if Ginny had actually recalled the correct name.

Ginny pretended to slap herself on the forehead. "Matilda, of course. It's been a long day. Would you be so kind as to bring me a gin and tonic?"

Matilda the waitwitch dashed away, leaving Draco's knuts on the table. Ginny smiled at Draco, but before she had a chance to speak she was surrounded by adoring fans, each wanting a photo or an autograph.

Draco could only shake his head at the scene. He didn't really know what she was famous for -- well, other than being the star Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies for four years before recently retiring and marrying Harry Potter himself, as everyone had always expected her to do. And then starting her own designer clothing line and writing a best-selling novel about her Quidditch years.

She was arguably the most famous witch in the world, and that was why Draco had been sent to interview her. Not that she hadn't been interviewed plenty of times, of course -- and why the job had been given to him and not someone in the fashion or society departments was… well. He forced himself to smile.

She smiled away the last of her fans and settled across from him at the table. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Draco. I'm usually quite punctual for these things."

"Traffic?"

"No."

"Held up at a previous engagement?"

Her smile was one of amusement. "To be perfectly honest, I forgot."

Before Draco could decide whether or not to appear insulted, Matilda reappeared with a gin and tonic, and placed it reverently before Ginny. "Can I bring you anything else?"

"Actually, do you have a private room available? I feel a bit exposed sitting here."

"I'll go and check." Matilda scurried away.

"I didn't realize you'd prefer privacy," Draco said. "Most of the people I interview want to be the center of attention."

Ginny took a sip of her drink. "Despite what you might expect, I don't covet that position. How have you been, Draco?"

"Very well," he lied. "And you?"
She gestured to the empty table before him. "If you're going to start the interview, shouldn't you be recording it?"

"Yes, of course." He dug through his bag for the small recorder he'd used for years and placed it on the table between them. He tapped it with the tip of his wand and it whirred to life. "So, Ginny Weasley Potter -- how have you been?"

"Today?"

Draco shrugged. "In general."

Ginny's smile was still amused. "I'm fine, thanks."

"And your book is selling well?"

"Yes."

"And the clothing line?"

"Growing."

"Do you miss Quidditch?"

Ginny's smile was fading. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"I'm quite good at this, actually, when I'm interviewing people I'm interested in."

There was a moment of stony silence, during which they stared at each other. It was finally interrupted by the return of Matilda, who'd apparently convinced a business meeting to relocate so they could have a private room.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble," Ginny told her, "but I'm afraid we won't be staying after all." She picked up her bag and handed Matilda some coins.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh for-- I'm sorry. That was horribly tactless of me, and unprofessional. Please stay and let me start again."

Ginny was already on her feet, but she hesitated, studying him with narrowed eyes. "I suppose I owe you that much for keeping you waiting, don't I?"

"Yes," Draco replied, and tried his best to be gracious when she nodded her agreement.

Matilda showed them to one of the lounge's private suites on the floor above. It was a small, cozy room, with a sofa and chairs in one corner by a window with a stunning view of London (likely magically-generated, as they weren't that high from ground level), a fully-stocked bar in the other corner, and a small conference table in the center. Draco had never been in such a private room before, despite his years of interviewing important people.

Ginny glanced around before nodding her approval. "Thank you, Matilda. Put it on my bill. And please let the staff know we aren't to be disturbed."

"Yes, Mrs. Potter." Matilda beamed at Ginny and then shot a glare at Draco as she closed the door.

"You don't have to pay," Draco said, watching her cross to the bar. She was really quite beautifully built, something he hadn't noticed before. Her figure was lean yet curvy, and she was dressed to accentuate her assets. He wondered if any of those assets were artificial.

"I insist," she replied, and proceeded to mix a gin and tonic. "You were drinking scotch, I believe?"

"Yes. I have an expense account for just this purpose, though."

"Don't be silly, Draco. It's already settled. Neat or on the rocks?"

Draco sighed. "Just… bring the bottle, if you don't mind."

She gestured to the table and he sat, setting up his recorder once again. She brought the drinks to the table and sat across from him. "That's an old-fashioned recorder, isn't it?"

"I suppose," he replied. "I like it."

"It takes the small tapes?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "I have one just like it. I used it when I wrote my book, to record my thoughts and ideas."

An entry point. He tapped the recorder to start it up again. "So why did you decide to write a book about yourself? You're only 23, aren't you?"

"I'm 25, just a bit younger then you. I suppose I had a lot to say. And to my great surprise, people seemed interested in it."

"It was an instant best-seller, wasn't it?" Draco managed to keep the envy out of his voice.

"Yes, though I doubt it deserved to be. What did you think of it?"

Draco's smile became stiff. "I… haven't read it."

"Of course you haven't. Wouldn't want to be too prepared for this interview, would you?"

"Touche. Look, I admit that I'm unprepared. This came up rather quickly. Besides, I typically do a very different type of story."

She poured him several fingers of scotch and pushed the glass toward him. "What sort of stories do you usually write, then?"

"I interview politicians, policy-makers, important people in the Ministry. I was the one who uncovered the Wallins scandal, you know."

"Ah yes," she replied, smiling at him over her drink. "You won a Golden Quill award for that one, didn't you?"

He nodded. "It's one of the highest honors in Wizarding journalism."

"And now they have you interviewing me. I can see how you'd be disappointed."

"I wouldn't say disappointed."

"Then what would you say?"

Draco frowned at her and slung back his scotch. She poured him another. "Why don't you let me ask the questions? I'm the one interviewing you."

"Then ask." She leaned back in her chair and toyed with the straw in her glass.

"Do you always drink gin and tonic through a straw?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

She laughed and fixed her eyes on his. "Perhaps I have an oral fixation." He felt an odd jolt go through him -- was she flirting with him? "Or maybe it's just a way to keep my lipstick from smudging."

He cleared his throat. "Of course. Right." He stared awkwardly at the table in front of him, having completely lost his train of thought.

"Why don't you ask me about my book some more?"

"Yes, your book. Why did you decide to write it?"

"You already asked that."

Draco gritted his teeth. Why was this so difficult? It was her, probably. She was making it difficult, sitting across the table from him, just waiting for him to make an even more spectacular fool of himself. She'd probably go home and have a good laugh about it with Potter.

"How long have you and Potter been married now?"

"Just over a year."

"How is that going?"

The smile faded from her face. "Are you going to ask me any serious questions? All of this is in my book, and anyone who reads this article will probably have read that. If you don't have anything better to ask, Mr. Award-Winning Journalist, you're wasting my time and your own."

She sucked down her drink and stared at him, and he couldn't help but look away. She was right, of course. He hadn't prepared for this interview because he'd thought it would be easy. Just ask some basic questions, write up a fluff piece that every housewife would devour, and that was it. Back to the regular beat. Clearly he'd underestimated her.

He downed his scotch and poured himself another. He thought he saw Ginny smirk as she crossed to the bar to fix herself another drink.

By the time she sat down in front of him again, he was ready. "You grew up quite poor, but you and your husband live a fairly extravagant lifestyle these days. Did you ever dream as a child you'd be this rich and famous?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's what the first chapter of my fucking book is about."

Draco tossed back his scotch and stood, picking up the recorder. "Clearly this isn't going to work. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

"Don't be such a drama queen. Sit down."

Draco looked up at her, and was surprised to see a glimpse of the rough-and-tumble girl he remembered from school. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or perhaps she really did want to talk to him. In either case, he had a sudden feeling that it might be about to get more interesting.

"All right." He replaced the recorder on the table and sat again. She poured him another scotch. "What should I ask you about, then? What's not in your book?"

"You're the reporter. Figure it out."

He thought for a moment, watching her sip her drink. The straw was red-stained now, and her lipstick was fading. Her eyelashes were dark against her pale cheeks, surprisingly unfreckled considering how much time she'd spent playing Quidditch.

"You were a great Seeker," he said at last. "Why'd you quit just when you were at the peak of your career?"

She laughed and toyed with her straw for a moment, as if considering. She looked up at him with a strange smile on her lips. "In my book I said it was because I was ready to settle down, to get married, to move on. But that's not what you want to hear, is it? You want something a bit juicier than that." She tugged off the jacket she was wearing, revealing a thin yellow shirt that clung to her breasts. Her nipples hardened against the cool air, clearly unrestrained by any sort of support.

"Oh?" Draco asked, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face.

"You see," she began, then paused to sip her drink again, "I was afraid I'd lose Harry if I didn't quit."

"He didn't want you to play?"

"No, he loved my playing. But Harry… Well, Quidditch kept me away from home quite a lot of the time. We had a flat together before we were married, but I spent very little time in it. I would be away for weeks at a time, leaving him all alone."

Draco nodded. "You were afraid he'd run around on you?"

"Does Harry Potter strike you as the type?" She snorted. "Hardly. It was the other way around. I'm sure he brought a few girls home now and then. Once in a while I'd find something: lipstick on the sheets, a pair of lacy knickers in the laundry that weren't mine. But no -- I was the problem." She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair.

"You were unfaithful to him?"

"Every fucking chance I got," she said, opening her eyes again. The look she gave him was almost predatory, and Draco felt a shiver of something run through him. He wasn't sure if it was lust or fear, or something else altogether -- like the excitement of knowing he was on the brink of hitting a huge story.

She crossed to the bar to refill her drink, swaying just a bit as she did. He gathered his glass and the bottle and moved the tape recorder to the corner sofa, casting a levitation charm on it so that it would hover between them.

"Oh, lovely," she said as she fell onto the sofa next to him, her skirt riding enticingly up her thighs. "This is much more comfortable."

"So why did you cheat on him?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Every time, I said it would be the last, that I wouldn't do it again. But after the matches there would be so many boys, all of them young and fit and gorgeous, and falling over themselves to get close to me. Have you ever been in the center of that sort of attention, Draco?"

"I imagine it would be difficult to resist."

"It was glorious. I could just pick the one I wanted. Sometimes more than one. I could make them do things, like have sex with each other, just because I wanted to watch. And I wouldn't let them touch me until they'd made each other come."

Draco's mouth had gone dry, and he reached over his empty glass to take a swig straight from the bottle. "Did you do that often, would you say?"

She slid closer to him, and he could see himself reflected in her dark eyes. "That was for special occasions. Most of the time, I just fucked them."

"I'll bet you did," he whispered.

Her gaze was intense, so much so that he found he couldn't look away. "Have you ever been fucked by a woman, Draco? I mean, really, truly, fucked, where she just takes what she wants from you and leaves you without a second glance?"

"I…" Draco's tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I'm not sure."

"You should try it sometime." She was so close now that he could smell the gin on her breath.

"Yes, I…"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Draco swallowed and shook his head.

"You're a fucking liar. You've got a tent in your trousers." He looked down, and she laughed. "Do you see how easy it is? Men are all the same. Every fucking one of you."

"So men are just playthings to you, is that it? Why do you have so little respect for us?"

Ginny snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, I would. That's why I'm here, isn't it? To get the story not in your book?"

Her eyes sparkled. "What would you do to get it?"

Draco felt his cock twitch in response to her voice. It was rare that a woman had this strong an effect on him. "What would you like me to do?"

"Take off your shirt." It wasn't phrased as a request, nor as a suggestion. She leaned back and sipped her drink, and waited. Draco pulled off his jacket and then unbuttoned his shirt, as slowly as he could manage. He had to stand to get it off completely, and before he could sit down, she said, "Turn around, slowly." He complied, and felt her eyes on his skin as he did. He knew his body wasn't bad -- he exercised fairly regularly and watched what he ate -- but he still tried to suck in his belly when he turned to face her again.

"And now your trousers."

"Are you seducing me?"

"What do you think?"

Even if he weren't about to write the most salacious story of his career, he would have done it. He rarely turned down a beautiful woman, and he had to admit -- even though she was a Weasley -- Ginny was one of the most beautiful he'd seen in a long time. He fixed her eyes with his as he unfastened the fly and lowered his trousers, thanking Merlin he'd decided to wear sleek black pants that day. He kicked off his shoes and then stood there in his stocking feet, his erection pressing firmly against the thin black fabric of his pants.

"Come here," she said, gesturing with a finger. He stopped in front of her, and she said, "Closer." He stepped forward, his crotch now just inches from her face. She reached up and tugged his pants down, dragging the fabric over the sensitive skin of his cock, brushing her cool fingers against his hips. He held his breath, not certain what was going to happen next. His erection bobbed in front of her face and she stared at it, as if examining every inch. She leaned forward, and for a moment he thought she was going to take it in her mouth, but she inhaled deeply instead, closing her eyes.

"I love the way men smell," she said, her hot breath ghosting over his prick. "Do you like the way women smell, Draco?"

"Yes," he replied, nearly panting now.

She leaned back against the sofa and tugged her skirt up to reveal she wasn't wearing any knickers underneath. She spread her thighs apart and framed her pussy with her fingers. Most of the red curls had been spelled away, leaving a thin strip down the center. She pulled her labia apart with red-tipped fingernails, and he saw that she was glistening, wet. His mouth watered.

"Tell me what you'll do to hear the rest of my story."

He dropped to his knees. "Anything. If you want me to lick you for an hour, I will."

"Do you want to lick my pussy?"

"Yes. Merlin, yes." And it was true -- he liked eating women out as much as the next man, but there was something about Ginny that made him want it more than he'd ever wanted it before. He leaned closer and then he could smell her, the scent rich and soft and feminine. He shivered.

"How much do you want it?" She spread her thighs further apart and teased her clit with one finger.

He didn't bother replying; he hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her hips forward on the sofa, so that his mouth was inches away from her cunt. He had to resist the urge to dive in and suck. He leaned forward instead, and brushed the tip of his tongue against her swollen labia.

"Oh, you're good at this, aren't you?" she said, and bit her lip.

"You have no idea." He flicked just the tip of his tongue lightly against her flesh, occasionally probing into the folds or brushing the hood of her clit, but going as slowly as he could bear. She was panting after a moment, and when he slid the tip of his tongue down her pussy in one smooth stroke, she wriggled beneath him. He teased her hole with his tongue before dipping it inside, and earned hands tangled in his hair for the way he stroked the warm skin inside.

"You are so fucking good," she moaned, her eyes closed. "God, don't stop."

His nose brushed her clit, and she shuddered, so he moved back up again, alternating between licking and light sucking. His mouth was full of her, her scent everywhere, and it was nearly intoxicating. His cock ached from it, and he thought he might come when she did.

She sounded like she was getting close, so he moved down to tease her opening again, and then moved even lower, circling her arsehole slowly with his tongue before pressing into her slowly, earning choking gasps from her. He moved back up to suck on her clit again, but pressed one wet finger into her arse and fucked her slowly in time with his sucking. He added two fingers into her cunt when her moaning started to become rhythmic, and it was only another minute before he felt her muscles contracting around him. She cried out in waves, and her hands clenched his hair so tightly it made him wince.

He backed off when she quieted, but she tugged him back by the hair, saying, "Gently." It only took slight pressure of his tongue against her clit to make her come again, seemingly harder this time. He let her control it, and she rode his face for nearly a minute before she released him, panting.

He sat back and swiped his bare arm over his mouth, feeling inordinately smug. She looked spent, her thighs splayed apart and an expression of bliss on her face, and he doubted he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

His cock was aching, but he'd managed not to come -- yet. He was so close that he thought he might explode if he even brushed against the sofa.

"So," he said, grinning at her.

"Mmmm," was her reply.

"Your story," he continued. "Why you have this sexual addiction."

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. "You're still recording, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I won't use any of this," he lied. "I don't want the Wizarding world hating me for breaking up the venerated Potter household." He could hardly wait.

Her expression was calculated. "I want something in return."

"This wasn't enough?"

"Oh, I intend to return the favor once you've cooled down a bit. So this doesn't count. If I'm going to spill my deepest, darkest secret, you have to tell me yours too."

He laughed. "Okay, fine."

She sat up and eyed his swollen cock. "And if I don't believe you've been truthful with me, I won't let you come."

"What do I have to lose?"

"Nothing but your preconceptions about what a good blow job is," she replied with a smile he could only describe as wicked.

"Deal. You first, though." He settled on the sofa next to her, and waited.

She straightened out her skirt and turned toward him, then brushed loose strands of hair back from her face. "You remember what that last year at Hogwarts was like, don't you?"

He nodded, though he hadn't realized it was her last year too. Not that he'd cared much about the Weasleys at that time.

"What the detentions were like, how the Carrows made students torture each other? Amycus took a special interest in me. It seemed that he had a thing for redheads."

Draco's stomach twisted. "You mean he--?"

She snorted. "Oh, he wouldn't have dared to touch me himself. Not even Snape would have stood for that. But he made me perform spells -- sex spells -- on myself, on him, on other students." She paused and looked down at her hands. "And though I should have hated every moment of it, I didn't." She paused and chewed her lower lip for a moment. "I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it so much I started to get in trouble just so I'd get detention with him. I started thinking of it as special lessons, you know?"

"And when the war was over, you needed to keep doing it."

"Simple sex with one man wasn't going to be enough, ever again. Carrow taught me how much I love the chase, the moment of conquest, the fucking." Her eyes darted up again. "He taught me how to get what I want, even when men don't want to give it to me."

"Does Potter know?"

She smiled and looked away again. "No. I could never bring myself to tell him. He loves me too much, and it would kill him to know what happened to me that year. He thought he was protecting me, you see."

"But you didn't need protecting. You can take care of yourself."

"That I can."

"So why did you stop?"

She chuckled. "Who says I have done? I've removed myself from having access to men day and night, but I still take opportunities when they arise." Her eyes grazed over his erection again.

"Will you tell Potter about this?"

"What do you think?"

He could hardly wait to tell the world how he'd made Potter's precious wife scream, how Potter alone wasn't enough for her. It was almost too good to be true. He watched the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and his cock got even harder. "So is it my turn now?"

"Yes." She sat back and waited.

He'd forgotten for a moment that he was to exchange a secret in return. "Okay, let me think. My deepest, darkest secret…" What would convince her? He just needed something good enough to get those glorious lips around his cock.

"Let me help you think," she said, and slid to the floor. She settled between his thighs and wrapped her cool fingers around his cock.

That wasn't going to help, but he didn't think it wise to tell her so. "All right. My family… we were conspiring against Voldemort at the end. We expected he'd kill us off one by one, and we had a plan in place to--"

"No," Ginny said, and gave his cock a firm squeeze. "That's not it."

He started to protest, but she leaned forward and teased the head of his prick with her tongue just enough to wet the sensitive skin at the tip, and then she sat back again.

He pressed his lips together. "Okay, you're right. I…" He swallowed as she leaned forward again and her hot breath ghosted over his skin. "I'm not gay or anything, but I… I once sucked off a Death Eater to keep him away from my mother. He said he'd rape her in front of me and Father, and I told him I'd do anything to stop it. He pulled it out and so… I sucked him."

"Did you like it?"

"Not at first, but…" He gasped as she took the head of his cock into her mouth. "…it wasn't so bad."

She released his prick and laughed. "That was quite inventive, but it isn't true. You'll have to do better."

"How do you know it isn't true?" She probably knew how to do some sort of sex-based legilimancy or something. "What is it you want me to say?"

She took him in from tip to root, and he groaned, sinking back into the cushions. "Something real," she whispered. "An actual secret you'd never want anyone else to know."

"You aren't going to believe me no matter what I say. Why should I bother? I can just go home and wank."

"I know a spell that'll keep you hard for a week. Want to see?"

His eyes flew open. "Just tell me what you want me to say? Ask me a question."

She was silent for a moment, and then looked up at him. "Why did they really give you this assignment?"

He stared at her, startled. "I… what?"

"You've been a star political reporter, but now they assign you a fluff piece. Even though there's an election coming up and another Ministry scandal looming. Why didn't you get that assignment?"

Draco stared back at her, stunned. He shook his head. "I can't answer that."

"It's what I want to know." She slid her lips down his cock again, and he felt the head bump the back of her throat.

"I can't. Oh god, that thing with your tongue."

"All you have to do is tell me," she said, her swollen lips brushing the head at just the right spot. "And I'll suck your cock like you've never had it done before."

With that, she gave him a sample, moving her tongue and lips and fingers in a way that he wouldn't have thought possible. For a moment, he thought he was going to come, that it would be over and he wouldn't have to answer -- but she came off and whispered a word, and everything inside his groin stopped.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Not until I lift the spell. Tell me."

He glared at her, but there was nothing he could do. It was a question that had been hanging over his head for months, even years, and he hadn't told anyone the truth. Why should he tell her, and with the recorder going, no less?

Of course, it was his recorder, his tape. He could just erase that part. No one else would ever know. And who could she tell? No one would believe her. She couldn't even tell Potter -- wouldn't he wonder how she'd got such a secret out of Draco? After he wrote his expose, it would all be over for her anyway. If she told anyone after that, it would just seem like sour grapes.

"All right, fine. I've never told anyone this."

"That's why I want to know."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm… a fraud."

There was a long pause, during which she teased the head of his cock with her tongue. "Go on."

"I'm supposed to be this great investigative journalist, but the truth is that most of my sources aren't real. I make a lot of it up, and no one knows."

"Don't they?"

"Well, that's the thing. I think my supervisor is suspicious, and I think that's why they didn't put me on the latest scandal." He felt something release in his groin -- she'd lifted the spell. Her mouth was soft and warm, and she was taking her time. "Merlin, you're amazing."

"What about the Wallins story? Did you fake that one too?" Her question was punctuated by a movement that made him groan.

"I… yes. None of Wallins's staff would talk to me. But the moment I started making stuff up and implying that someone had talked, a few started to come forward. I just… oh god… guessed… right."

"So you didn't deserve that Golden Quill award."

"Maybe not. But it doesn't matter now. I got the story in the end."

Ginny's mouth had moved down to his balls, and she sucked on each in turn before moving lower.

"What're you-- wait."

But then her tongue was warm and wet and lapping at his arsehole, and he thought he might melt into the sofa. No one had ever done that to him before, and he'd never expected it to happen -- but it was quite nice. She pressed the tip of her tongue just inside, and he groaned.

"Keep talking," she said.

"I… oh god."

"You said you thought your supervisor was suspicious?" She sucked his cock down again.

"Yeah," he began, but was distracted by the feeling of a wet finger teasing his arsehole. It pressed into him, slick and firm, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. "I think that's why--" And then he couldn't speak at all -- she'd done something with that finger that had made him see stars.

"Do you like that?" she whispered, and did it again, this time sucking him hard at the same time.

A few minutes ago, he'd just wanted to come as quickly as possible, but now he wanted it to last forever. After he wrote his story he wouldn't get another chance with her. The longer he talked, the longer it would last.

"He's been suspicious for a while, I think. Because he can't verify my sources himself. And some of what I've written is fairly mad, when you stop to think about it. But I just have to…" He paused, having trouble keeping his thoughts straight now. "That Golden Quill award carries a lot of weight."

"The one you don't deserve?"

"Oh, I fucking deserve it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get anywhere in this world when your last name is Malfoy? No one wanted to give me a job, or a chance, and no one would talk to me. They still won't, and that's why I have to do it."

"Poor baby," she whispered, and after that he couldn't talk anymore. Her mouth slid up and down on his cock, and one hand squeezed the base, and there must have been two fingers in his arse by then, fucking him in time with her sucking, the fingertips brushing against something inside him that made him feel like he was about to explode.

And then he did -- it was the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced, and it seemed to last forever. He saw stars afterwards, and he was shivering in a pool of his own sweat. He felt boneless, melted into the cushions of the sofa. He couldn't even open his eyes.

"Want another drink?" he heard her ask. Her voice sounded distant, perhaps coming from the bar. There was a rattle of something, like ice.

"No. I think I'm done for the night."

She laughed. "You're welcome."

It was a few more minutes before he could get himself up and dressed, and pack his recorder away.

"That was quite an interview," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Certainly unlike any I've had before."

She leaned back against the conference table. "What will you write?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll go read your book for ideas."

She smirked. "Probably a good place to start. Good night, Draco."

"Good night." He turned to the door, and walked through it without glancing back.

He managed to wait until he was outside and a street away before apparating straight into the Prophet's offices. This story was just too good to wait -- he had to get going on it right now. He could see the headlines now -- perhaps it would even be a series, something the paper would run for a week. Potter would be humiliated, and Ginny's reputation would be ruined completely. After all these years, after having been stripped of his name and his family heritage and the respect he deserved, after seeing people like Potter and the Weasleys get everything that should have been his, he would have his revenge.

He ran into Billingsley, his editor, on the way up the stairs to his office, and couldn't contain his smugness.

"It went well, then?" Billingsley asked.

"You have no idea," Draco replied, tugging him into an empty office. "She's a complete mess, a sexual addict. She got me drunk, seduced me, and fucked my brains out."

Billingsley looked alarmed. "Malfoy, are you drunk? Have you gone insane?"

"I'm serious," Draco replied, digging through his bag for the recorder. "I got it all on tape. She cheats on Potter every chance she gets, learned sexual torture techniques from Death Eaters during the war -- it's unbelievable!"

"Yeah, that's the thing. Look, Malfoy--"

"No, wait, listen to this." Draco brandished the recorder and switched it on, grinning.

There was silence, and then he heard Ginny's voice: "Two pints of milk -- no, three. Enough flour to make a paste, then sugar and salt as needed--

"Is this a joke?" Billingsley spat, red-faced.

"Wait, let me back it up," Draco said, and tapped the recorded with his wand. But when it came on again, it was more of the same: grocery lists, recipes, mundane everyday information. He felt the blood drain from his face. "She must have switched the tape. Oh, fucking… I can't believe it."

Billingsley shook his head. "You didn't even meet with her, did you? Maybe you bought this recording from someone close to her, with the promise that it was something more, but now you're caught out."

"No, that's not -- it happened! It was just like I said!"

Billingsley poked a stubby finger into the center of Draco's chest. "This is the last straw, Malfoy. I know what you've done, and I've been looking for a reason to sack you. If you don't have a story on my desk first thing in the morning, something for which you have actual evidence, you're fired." With that, he pushed past Draco and left the room.

Draco stood in the empty office for another ten minutes, running the tape backwards and forwards, but none of his evening with Ginny was there. He had nothing. He threw the recorder to the floor and stormed to his small office. He wasn't giving up yet. There was a story he could write. There had to be something he could do.

He threw open the door and flicked his wand at the light, and saw an unfamiliar reddish-brown owl sitting on his desk, preening. It nipped at his fingers when he reached for the letter attached to its leg, and then fluffed up its feathers indignantly when he offered it a treat. It fluttered away through the open window, beak practically in the air. Draco stared after it until the letter began to vibrate in his hands -- a sign that it had been charmed to be opened by his touch.

He unfurled it.

Draco,

Thank you for an entertaining evening. By now you've likely realized that I have the recording of everything that happened between us. I'm sorry I had to fool you like that, but there is something you should know.

I made all of it up --none of what I said about Carrow or Harry or my Quidditch years was true. It seemed to be what you wanted to hear, and it got me what I wanted, didn't it?

You see, Harry and I have a special arrangement. He's a bit of a voyeur, and he's always fantasized about me with other men. And you were someone he was particularly fascinated with. When he learned you would be interviewing me tonight, he begged me to seduce you and to record it all, and I was happy to oblige. We'll be enjoying that tape for years to come.

Oh, and I should remind you that I also have a recording of your confession, so if the contents of this letter are ever published, you can be assured I'll send a copy of your little secret to every editor in Great Britain.

Ginny

P.S. This letter is charmed to destroy itself when you've finished reading it, so watch your fingers.

The letter was already smoking, and Draco dropped it onto his desk, scrambling for his wand. He tried every spell he could think of, but to no avail -- in less than a minute the letter had been reduced to a fine ash.

He sank into his chair, dazed. She'd fucked him, all right, in a way that would have made any Slytherin proud. He almost admired her for it.

Almost. He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. He already had a hangover, and he only had about ten hours to write a story that wouldn't get him fired. He had no idea where to start.

Of course, he did have a copy of her book. He dug it out from under a pile of old copies of rival papers and stared at it. She smiled smugly up at him from the cover, and just before he opened it, he thought he saw her wink.

He ignored it and started to read.

fin