A/N: A little Lucius/Ginny drabble, as requested by LadyRhiyana.

She came to him on a Tuesday morning. No longer was she the naïve, ragtag little girl into whose books he'd slipped the diary of a madman. She had rounded hips now, which swayed as she approached with the surety of a mature woman. Gone were the patched, hand-me-down clothes – replaced by neat, tailored robes which were handsome, if not fine. She was not wholly altered, though. Even had the red hair and freckles not identified her as a member of the Weasley family, he would have recognized the determined set of her jaw, the proud defiance in her eyes.

"Miss Weasley," Lucius drawled. "What a surprise."

He rose, waiting for Ginny to take the seat across from him before resituating himself behind the great mahogany desk.

Her eyes moved over the thick velvet drapes, the fine art on the walls without truly seeing any of it. Silence stretched between them as she waged an internal battle. Finally she raised her chin slightly and met his eyes. She was blunt.

"I have a proposal."

Lucius' lips curled into a curious smile at her lack of subtlety. "Is that so?" he asked with polite condescension.

Leaning forward in her chair, Ginny began. "My mother is ill. She has contracted the same strain of Dragon Pox that infected your wife and son."

So that was why she'd come. The new Dragon Pox strain was especially virulent and treatment was costly. It required a full two months in St. Mungo's taking the strong healing potion three times a day. The illness weakened a body considerably; the healing draught even more so. It required manticore venom and other rare ingredients, making the treatment enormously expensive. Using a potion of the potency required to eradicate the Dragon Pox virus on patients who were already feeble made the prognosis less than optimal in the best of cases.

"That is unfortunate, Miss Weasley, but I don't see what concern it is of mine."

"I want you to pay for her treatment," she stated plainly, her gaze never wavering.

A grim expression spread across his face. "The treatment is no guarantee of survival. As I'm sure you know, my wife died in spite of, or perhaps even because of it."

"Without treatment my mother will die. With it, there is a chance she'll survive," Ginny retorted. "Draco lived."

Lucius inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of her words. "And why would I feel inclined to do this for you? I am no friend to your family. Perhaps you were hoping to appeal to my humanitarian instincts?"

Ginny snorted. "I have no illusions about your nature, Mr. Malfoy. You're not likely to help me without getting something in return." With a significant look, she crossed her legs slowly, exposing several inches of alabaster thigh. "I'm offering a trade."

If nothing else, the young witch broke the monotony of a day at the office.

"You rate your charms highly," he mused, taking a moment to run an appraising eye over her curves. There was no derision in his tone, only a faint trace of amusement.

"My charms are plentiful enough," Ginny replied, "but the benefits of accepting my offer would not only be physical."

"Go on, Miss Weasley. Enlighten me."

"You've never lost the taint of your association with Voldemort. Suspicion follows you wherever you go. My family's reputation is impeccable, Mr. Malfoy. The days when the Weasleys were seen as a quirky bunch of Muggle-loving misfits are long gone. Being seen with me on your arm is nearly as good as an endorsement from Harry Potter himself. Not to mention the satisfaction I'm sure you'll have knowing my father had to sacrifice his only daughter to your bed in order to save his wife."

Lucius considered her words. Distasteful as it was to him, the Weasley girl was correct. Her family's association with Potter and connections within the Ministry put them in a very advantageous position. Were Arthur Weasley a more ambitious man, he could have easily maneuvered into a much more lucrative career. As always, though, he was a fool – content to play with Muggle artifacts in his little corner of the Ministry.

It would be a rather nasty bit of revenge on his old nemesis to turn Weasley's daughter into Lucius' bedmate. With her pert breasts and supple skin, Lucius could admit to himself that satiating his lust with the girl would not be a difficult chore.

There was another question niggling at him, though. "I wonder that you did not approach Draco with this offer. The benefits would be the same for him, given his history with your brother and Potter. I would have expected him to be a much more agreeable partner, given your closeness in age."

With a careless shrug, Ginny stated simply, "I don't like Draco."

He could not stop the surprised laugh that burst out. "Do you like me, Ginny?" he asked, openly mocking her for the first time since she'd entered his office.

Her face turned hard and cold.

"I despise you. Never in my life have I abhorred someone as I do you. Not even Tom Riddle. Tom would have used any vessel available to accomplish he goals. You chose me – the eleven year old daughter of a man you held in disdain. You did this without the slightest regard for what would become of me, or whether I deserved the fate you set for me so eagerly. Make no mistake, Mr. Malfoy, I hate you to the very core of my soul."

She looked past him then, staring out the window, but not seeing the view beyond it. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and filled with unspoken promises.

"There is passion in hatred."

Thoughtfully, Lucius imagined Ginny Weasley in his bed, filling the empty space where his wife had once laid. There was no denying her attractiveness, different though it was from Narcissa's regal beauty. Her muscles were taut and toned; her breasts firm in the way that only youth and vitality can achieve. It would be pleasurable to indulge himself with her.

He felt his body stir at the idea. Two years had passed since someone had warmed his bed. Two years since Narcissa had been laid to rest and Draco had come home alive, but not unscathed.

The decision was made.

"I have no need for a mistress, Miss Weasley," Lucius said.

She managed to keep her composure, but the disappointed desperation was clear. This had been her last chance to save her mother. Nodding curtly, Ginny rose from her seat.

"I am, however, in want of a wife," he continued, smirking as his words registered with the young witch.

It was common knowledge that the previous Mrs. Malfoy had succumbed to Dragon Pox, and that the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune had survived. What was not widely known was that Draco's illness had left him sterile. Unless Lucius produced another heir, the Malfoy line would end with Draco.

"A wife?" Ginny repeated, wide eyed. "Why would you want to marry me?"

Because your family's fertility is legendary and illegitimate children cannot inherit, Lucius thought wryly. There was no reason to go into that now, though.

"I have my reasons," he answered, waving his hand dismissively and coming to stand beside her. "I shall order your mother's treatment directly we are husband and wife."

She was so easy to read. Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she weighed her options. Closing her eyes, she released a forceful breath. When she looked at him again her face was easy, and only her skin's slightly greenish hue hinted at her misgivings.

"I suppose I should call you Lucius, then," Ginny said.

Her fate was sealed with a kiss.