By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor

Summary: Unfortunately, our favorite Slytherin has fallen for none other than Gryffindor's feistiest redhead. How convenient that circumstances lead to her moving in with him.

Disclaimer: Ugh! I DO NOT OWN IT! Get a clue! Why can't we have a universal authors disclaimer or something? Grr.

A/N: Don't despair. I haven't given up on "Don't Call Me Weasel!" This was begging to be written. I'll try to keep up both stories faithfully. Anywho, this story involves Draco having an older brother. I've read the books and there's nothing that strictly states that Draco doesn't have a brother. And I've grown quite attached to my sexy brainchild^_^

Enjoy!

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"Oh, gods, boy, what is it now?"

Draco Malfoy scowled down at his breakfast, but didn't touch it. His father's question hung in the air, hovering between them and the other occupants of the dining hall.

"Nothing, Father," he lied smoothly (as usual), forcing his hands to pick up his fork and knife. Grimly, he hacked his sausages into very precise - and very small - pieces.

"Then, for gods' sake, don't keep moping about," Lucious snapped. "We've got to put up with you for two more weeks."

No you don't, Draco threw back silently. You can go off and play with your friends in masks or lock up in your office. I'm just your son. It's not like your responsible for me or anything.

"Oh, lay off, Dad," a deeper voice said lightly. "He's probably just wishing he'd done better on midterms - right, Drake?"

Draco glanced up at his twenty-four year old brother Aden, his expression darkening. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the effort Aden made to defend him against their father's verbal bashing. It was mainly jealously that Aden didn't suffer the same abuse himself.

"Aden, darling, don't speak to your father in that tone," their mother Narcissa said casually as she took a dainty bite of poached egg. Draco could have groaned. Why did she even bother? Aden, next in line as the Malfoy heir, could more or less say or do whatever he wanted and it was 'peachy-keen' as far as both their parents were concerned.

It didn't help that Aden was a decent guy to boot.

"Well, I'm off," Draco's brother said, pushing his chair out. "Tea this afternoon, Mother?"

"Of course, precious," she said affectionately, as he stooped to kiss her cheek.

"Later, kid," Aden called to Draco. That was code talk for, Meet me in the east wing library in ten minutes.

"Yeah," Draco mumbled into his teacup. After the door closed behind Aden, Narcissa started in on him.

"Really, dearest, what is the matter?" she asked, looking down the table - and her nose - at him. It wasn't a question of active concern, but rather, of annoyance.

"I assure you, I'm quite well," he returned quietly, finishing his omelet. Throwing his napkin onto the table, he stood.

"Good morning, Mother. Father." He gave his father a very curt nod, his mother a slightly warmer one, and turned to leave.

"See that you're properly civil by this evening," Lucious' cold voice followed him from the room. "I have some dinner guests coming tonight."

That would mean Death Eaters from the inner circle.

"Of course," Draco acknowledged. He rolled his eyes at the wall.

"And see that your brother is told," Narcissa called. "This could be a very important evening for him."

Draco fought back a snort. He happened to know that his brother had no desire to become a Death Eater. And lack of enthusiasm translated into lack of action when it came to Aden.

Draco did indeed find his elder brother in the east wing library. Filled almost entirely with fiction for Narcissa's amusement, Lucious rarely - if ever - frequented the place. This made it ideal for Aden and Draco's purposes.

Two entirely out of place robe hammocks hung from the ceiling, hidden from immediate view by several cleverly rearranged bookcases. Here Draco and Aden met to talk without fear of being overheard. Not that Aden had a lot to worry about, being so high in Lucious' esteem, but Draco - spoiled mainly by his mother's indulgence - had more to loose.

He found his brother stretched out in the hammock that faced a wall-to- ceiling bay window that looked out over the rolling hills, woods, and mountains of the countryside. Aden's eyes were fixed on the spectacular view. Without turning, he spoke to Draco.

"What's on your mind, Drake?" no one but Aden was aloud to call him that.

"Lucious is throwing a Death Eater bash tonight," Draco answered evasively, flopping gracefully into the vacant hammock so that he was facing his brother with his back to the window.

"You didn't answer my question," Aden chided his brother, eyes still distant.

"I'm worried about you," Draco snapped. Admitting affection, even to his brother, was a very harrowing experience and always made him cross.

"That's not what's making you sulk around this wretched place," Aden retorted, finally turning a piercing, purple-eyed gaze upon his brother. "Either tell me or quit pouting. Can't have it both ways."

Draco sighed. Few people talked to tall, imposing, seventeen-year-old Draco Malfoy that way and kept their body parts intact. But Aden, with his still taller frame and muscular build, was an entity unto himself. Anyway, Draco respected and venerated him too much to even consider the idea.

"Oh, fuck off," the youngest Malfoy muttered in defeat. "You'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Give me a break," Aden scoffed. "You wouldn't have come up here if you hadn't had something to whine at me about." He said this harshly, but it was really the only way to get Draco talking and they both knew it.

"Maybe I came to warn you about tonight," Draco tried one last time. "You can't keep putting this off, Den. I think the bastard - " he was, of course, referring to his father - "means business this time. Eventually, you'll get the Mark."

"Let him mean whatever the dragon's ass he wants," Aden said calmly. "The bottom line is, I'm the heir and I've been trained my whole life to be a damned good one. Lucious crafted me too carefully to cast me off because of simple detail like procrastination. Until old Voldie gets his act together and turns up again, no one can force me to do anything."

"He could disown you - cut you out of the will," Draco suggested.

"No shit," Aden said. "But like I said, I'm the best bloke for the job. I'm the perfect Malfoy, after all." He spoke the last sarcastically. In fact, he had good reason to, as he was about as ambitious to serve the Dark Lord as a Flubber Worm would be to teach History of Magic.

"You've got it good, you know," Draco said bitterly. "All you have to do is marry some girl and inherit a fortune. That bloody wanker - " of course referring to Lucious again - "wouldn't notice if you married a Muggle. He's totally blind to your faults - if you have any."

"Don't start pitying yourself, lad," Aden reprimanded, though his expression softened a bit. "I'm only off the hook until the Dark Lord shows up and kicks Lucious' sorry ass for being dumb. And then I'll damn well have a lot more to worry about than you, won't I?"

"I guess," Draco conceded, giving his brother a small smile.

"Right, quit changing the subject, you great prat," Aden said sharply, though with a grin. "What's on your mind?"

"Girls," he spat out the word.

"Uh-huh," Aden mused. "You fancy someone."

"She's pretty."

"Right. Blindingly seductive, your excuse for three cold showers a day. You can't keep your eyes off her."

"She's a redhead."

"A Weasely, eh?" Aden sat up in sudden interest.

"Damn you," Draco grinned.

"Don't blame me," Aden shrugged. "Most redheads are Weaselys. This generation only has one daughter, right?"

"Fortunately," Draco sneered. "Virginia."

"Let me guess; innocent, noble Gryff?"

"In one."

"Gods, you're screwed, old boy," Aden shook his head. "Aren't there any decent girls in Slytherin anymore?"

"I didn't ask for this!" Draco snapped. "Hell, I wouldn't willfully choose to be bloody obsessed with a Mudblood lover."

"Well, a pretty girl's a pretty girl, Drake," Aden pointed out unhelpfully. "What're you gonna do?"

"I don't know," Draco groaned. "Ignore her? Kill her? Shag her, maybe."

"Tried any of those yet?"

"Nope."

"Well, get busy, then," Aden said. "Who cares about her fucking family, right? If you like her, tell her."

"Oh, gosh, why didn't I think of that?" Draco snorted sardonically. "Thanks so much for your ingenious plan."

"You were expecting one?" his brother retorted. "What am I, you sodding wedding planner? All I can do is give you angles. I can't run your life."

"I know that," Draco gritted. "I was hoping for more specific advice."

"Okay," Aden stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "What kind of secluded spots does Hogwarts have?" Aden had gone to Durmstrang.

"Lots of closets, the roof, the astronomy tower - "

"Right. Get a fancy dinner, get her flowers, shag her."

Draco frowned. That would have been his first instinct if dealing with, say, Pansy Parkinson, but it didn't feel right with Ginny. Not that it would have mattered, he reflected. She didn't know how he felt about her (neither did he, really, except that it was borderline hungry) and if she did, she'd probably try to cause him physical damage. Not that this normally would have bothered him, but Ginny had proven herself quite capable of such violence - accidental or otherwise - very early on in her Hogwarts career.

Aden spotted the pause.

"Ah, not the easy sort?" he nodded knowingly. "Well, you know us bloody Malfoys. We don't have feelings."

"Fuck that! I wish it were that easy!" Draco snarled, his fists clenching.

"I'm impressed, Drake," Aden admitted, eyeing his brother. "The fact that you recognize that you actually have feelings is a sign that you've been picking up on something useful in this sodding joint. It's a miracle, really." Draco wasn't sure whether to be offended or not.

"What do you feel, exactly?" Aden continued, turning back to the window again.

"I can't stop thinking about her," Draco spat angrily. "I see her - I stare. I hear her - I can't sleep. I'm within ten feet of her - we fight to the death." Aden's eyebrows rose. "Okay, to the mortal disembowelment, then," Draco amended with a smirk.

"Oh, gods, you've really got it bad, don't you?" Aden asked.

"Reckon so," Draco granted, leaning back in the hammock to stare at the ceiling.

"Bummer. Look, gotta run, kid," Aden was looking at his Wizard's watch, where a thin gold hand pointed to the words, You're late, you bastard. He got up and started to leave.

Halfway to the door, he paused, turning back.

"You kissed her?" he asked, an odd look on his face.

"No, of course not. She'd probably bite my tongue off," Draco said in surprise.

"Try that and see what happens. You'd be amazed. Well, cheers!" and with a faint pop, he had apparated.

Draco licked his lips and rolled his eyes.

Oh, that was useful, he thought caustically. Kiss her? When he couldn't get close enough to at least give the feisty sixth-year a hippogriff tranquilizer, at the very least?

Not even Draco Malfoy was that brave.

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Well, there's part one. I'm experimenting a bit with OCs, so Aden will be a sort of co-star in this story. I'm hoping to manipulate things so that the whole story takes place in Malfoy manor. This is a Ginny/Draco, of course, but it will also be an Aden/OC as well.

Loves, all!