. . . . . .


This story was started several years ago and first posted at Fiction Alley earlier this year, before book six came out and changed . . . well, everything, really. So please excuse any discrepancies; it definitely is not HBP canon. Well, on with the show. Enjoy!


. . . . . .


My Anything


. . . . . .


I am peremptory as she proud-minded;
And where two raging fires meet together,
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yields to me.


Taming of the Shrew, act II, scene I


. . . . . .


THE PEACE AND quiet of the ground-floor staff room at St. Mungo's was interrupted suddenly by the yelling of a middle-aged orderly out in the hall. "Miss Weasley!" Corbin shouted, running in the door. "Miss Weasley, where are you?"


The young woman in question looked up from her lunch with a slight scowl, annoyed at having her break interrupted but not wanting to offend the orderly. The man, despite being very high-strung and having a tendency to exaggerate, was fairly nice, and Ginny didn't want him to think she was angry at him. "What is it, Corbin?" she asked. "I'm right here."


Corbin, finally seeing her at the table in the corner, looked relieved and straightened up. "Emergency call," he said briskly, obviously enjoying the importance of the words. "Glennis seemed to think you should go."


Ginny sighed. Glennis knew she was on break; the only reason the head healer would want Ginny to go was if it was a non-urgent call that, for whatever reason, Glennis saw as a nuisance and not worth her own time. Still, Ginny was required to interrupt her breaks for the sake of emergency calls, so with a final sigh she packed up the rest of her food and followed Corbin upstairs.


When she reached the call room, she found Glennis sitting at the desk, grinning warmly. Ginny returned the grin; despite the difference in their ages, Glennis was one of her best friends at St. Mungo's.


"So, what's the problem?" Ginny asked.


Glennis gestured toward a map of England which hung on the wall. On it were several glowing dots, each one indicating the spot where someone had used their wand to send for help. Glennis pointed to a dot in northern Wiltshire. "Fellow called through the Floo Network to say a friend had been bitten by a badger. They gave the man a potion, but they wanted a healer to come and make sure that nothing was wrong."


"All right," Ginny said slowly. The situation sounded normal enough, so why was Glennis grinning like that? "What else is there? What's so amusing?" she asked.


The older woman simply gestured toward the map. "You'll see when you get there," she grinned.


With a shrug, Ginny decided to go and see what was so funny. Picking up a medical bag, she placed the tip of her wand on the dot Glennis had indicated and Apparated.


She landed on soft grass next to a long, dirt driveway. Taking a moment to dust herself off, she looked around, wondering what about this spot had amused Glennis so much. There was a house a little ways away, but it was difficult to see through the fog around her, which was remarkably cold despite the fact that it was summer. Suddenly, a ray of sunlight burst through the clouds and lit up the huge house. Ginny peered at it a moment, then groaned as recognition hit her. The house that Glennis had found so amusing was none other than Malfoy Manor.


. . . . . .


Deep within the stone walls of the Manor, two men reclined on sofas and waited for the Medi-witch to arrive. "Late, as usual," complained one, older and black haired, who had one foot propped up on a stool. "Why did you even call St. Mungo's?"


His companion, a slender young man with perfectly slicked-back blonde hair, shrugged lazily. "To exasperate you. To give me something to do." He raised a smooth eyebrow. "And it's only good manners to make sure you're all right. If I didn't show good manners, Severus, you would undoubtedly go tattling back to Zabini and the rest of them, and we certainly wouldn't want that."


The Hogwarts potions master shook his head. "Draco, we've known each other for years. Do you really think I'm going to go telling stories to Zabini?"


Draco Malfoy, lord of Malfoy Manor, shrugged. "You never can tell, Snape," he drawled, causing his companion to shake his head in annoyance.


"If you hadn't insisted on taking that shortcut through the woods," Severus said, gingerly moving his sore ankle, "you wouldn't have this problem."


"I said I was sorry."


"Yes, but you say a lot of things," Severus muttered. "How many of them do you really mean?"


Draco grinned back in genuine delight. "I knew I liked you," he said. "One of the few people I know with real sense."


Severus shook his head, but before he could respond, there was a discrete tap on the door. "Yes?" Draco called.


The door opened to reveal Bernard, the head house elf. Bowing respectfully, he said, "If you please, masters, there is someone at the door from St. Mungo's."


Draco shooed the elf back out. "We will be up presently," he said, managing to sound arrogant in those few words. He rose gracefully to his feet, his companion clumsily following suit on his swollen ankle. "Shall we?" Draco asked, and Severus followed him out of the room.


The pair moved through the corridors in silence, Severus occasionally stealing glances at his young companion. How had such an arrogant, irresponsible person become one of the most powerful men in Britain? The question was, he knew, in the minds of the other noblemen and political leaders in Severus and Draco's social circle, which was comprised of nearly every powerful figure to come out of Slytherin house in the last fifty years. They all worried about the idea of the over-confident, careless Draco being a prominent member of society. Despite what many people thought of the former Slytherins, they were not wholly without senses of duty or concern for social niceties, and the reckless and sometimes embarrassing behavior exhibited by Lucius Malfoy's only son was beginning to become a concern.


At this thought Severus' thin lips twisted into a slight smile. This is all your fault, Lucius, he thought, directing his words toward wherever Lucius was now. Even two years after the man's death, Severus felt a bond with the former Lord Malfoy. They all did. Underneath Lucius' cold, unfeeling exterior and unfortunate fascination with the Dark Arts had been a man with a strong sense of duty toward his family and an unwavering loyalty toward those lucky enough to be his friends.


It was that same devotion that had caused Lucius to spoil his only child, Draco, and turn him into the terror that he now was. Lucius, Severus thought with a resigned sigh, if you're watching, I hope you're feeling heartily ashamed for how you spoiled the boy. Merlin knew it was going to difficult to convince Draco to be the Malfoy lord he was meant to be.


. . . . . .


Ginny stood in the front hall with her arms crossed, bristling at being kept waiting. It was bad enough to be in this place again, to be seeing him, but to have her time wasted in the process . . . She felt ready to throttle Glennis for thinking that sending her here would be funny. The woman had never met Draco Malfoy, but thought that the young lord of Malfoy Manor was very attractive and had hinted to Ginny several times that she should catch up with her old school chum. If Glennis had ever known the git, Ginny thought, she wouldn't be nearly as enthusiastic about him.


As she waited, she looked around the high ceilinged room, feeling the memories creeping up on her. It had been five years ago that she'd joined up with the Order of the Pheonix, back when the war with Voldemort was in full swing. She'd gone to be trained as a Medi-witch by the Ministry the week after graduating from Hogwarts, and after a mere month of training had been shipped out to the front lines. Most other trainees her age had been sent to refugee camps, but since her entire family was already members of the Order, she was allowed to become a member herself and work with the small cadre of healers reserved for the central circle of the Order.


It was there that she came once again into contact with Draco Malfoy. The dictator of Slytherin House, the tormentor of her childhood, the one person she didn't want to see again after leaving school, had joined the Order a few months before she had. He claimed to have turned to good, but it was generally suspected that he simply hadn't wanted his family's estate, money and good name destroyed if Voldemort lost.


And with Draco helping the Order, Voldemort did lose, unable to fight an enemy who was assisted by one who knew the workings of the Dark intimately. It was well known that Draco's assistance was pivotal in winning the war.


This, Ginny reflected, was lucky for him, or else the rest of the Order might have killed him with their bare hands. The entire time he'd been a member, he'd been a holy terror, putting on airs of nobility and ordering the rest of the members around, reminding those who tried to refuse that if he decided to leave, the Order would lose a source of valuable information and probably lose the war.


Ginny remembered numerous occasions on which he'd made her shine his shoes, make him coffee, and even give him a back massage. The worst of it, though, had been the time he'd made her come on an errand with him to this very house, Malfoy Manor, forcing her to miss one of the Order's few days of real rest in the entire war. The very memory still made her furious.


At that moment, footsteps sounded in the hall, and Ginny pushed the memories into the back of her mind, though mentally reminding herself to give Glennis a piece of her mind when she went back to St. Mungo's. One of the several doors in the entryway opened, and through it stepped a house elf, followed by her old Potions teacher Severus Snape. After them, the man himself, Draco Malfoy, swept dramatically into the front hall. He was as handsome as ever, Ginny noted, and based on the expression on his face, as arrogant as ever.


Professor Snape nodded to her. "Miss Weasley," he said by way of greeting.


At the sound Draco stopped his impressive entrance and stared at the Medi-witch in his entryway, a scowl marring his handsome features. "Oh, it's you, is it?"


. . . . . .


She hadn't changed much, Draco noticed. Her hair was still shoulder length and bright red, too straight to be called curly and too wavy to be called straight. She still barely reached his shoulder, and she still glared at him as though she'd like to do him bodily harm. Beyond asking exactly what the medical problem was, though, she didn't say a word to him. She simply knelt on the floor and pulled out her wand to heal Severus' ankle, then stood and began to examine his hand.


As she worked, Severus briefly explained the situation- while the two were going out into the manor's park to check on repairs needed for a shed, Draco had insisted on taking a shortcut through the woods, and the potions master had stepped in a badger's hole, angering the badger enough to bite him. Draco detected a hint of amusement in the Weasel's eyes, but she didn't say a word.


After a few minutes and a healing spell, Ginny looked up. "You're fine, Professor," she said, packing up her bag. "But if it's all right, I'd like to go out to where you were bitten to see if the badger was rabid or magical at all, to see if I should prescribe any potions for you."


Draco nodded and opened a door. "This way, Weasel," he said, smirking, and was rewarded by a dark look from the short witch in front of him. Severus simply rolled his eyes and followed her out the door.


They moved through the house and out a side door wordlessly, both Draco and Severus perfectly comfortable with not speaking. Before long, though, the chatty Weasley started talking to fill the silence. "So, what are you doing here, Professor Snape?" she asked.


Draco didn't have to look at him to know the potions master was rolling his eyes. "Just visiting Draco," he replied, ducking through the short side door. "I do try to keep an eye on him."


There was more to that statement, Draco knew, than would seem. The Slytherin Horde, as he liked to call the group of influential former Slytherins that he and Severus moved in, had been watching him ever since the end of the war. They were not worried because he had been in the Order- many of them had never joined Voldemort, and some had openly defied him- but because they felt that he might not be a suitable replacement for his father. Ian Zabini, especially, had taken it upon himself to keep Draco in line, and when the Slytherin Horde started in on Draco about some aspect of his life that they didn't feel was quite up to snuff, he knew that Zabini was behind it. His "friends," as they claimed to be, hadn't managed to persuade him to do much yet, but it wasn't for their lack of trying. They sent Severus to check on him often, frequently gave him unwanted advice on how to manage the estate and his business and political affairs, and generally tried to run his life. They had even gone so far as to start discusing potential wives for him, to keep him out of trouble. They didn't tell him this, of course, but he had his ways of finding things out, and he knew that at present they had settled on Pansy Parkinson as a suitable match for him.


As if I would ever marry that overbearing wench, he thought snidely. The woman was a loud and portly gold digger, and based on what he'd seen of her lately, she spent most of her days completely sloshed. Worst of all was not that she was notoriously unfaithful to boyfriends, but that she first gained that reputation while dating him. Nobody cheated on Draco Malfoy. She may have had the looks, the bearing, the experience and the Slytherin breeding, but no amount of persuasion could ever induce Draco to marry Pansy Parkinson.


Unfortunately for Draco, though, his father Lucius Malfoy had made Severus Snape the steward of the estate until Draco turned twenty-five. As such, the potions teacher controlled the monetary affairs of the estate, though he usually deferred to Draco on the decisions that had to be made. What this meant, though, was that if the Slytherin Horde ever convinced Severus that Draco should marry Pansy, Severus could use the power he had over Draco to force him into the marriage. If Draco refused, he would be denied access to the family's vast fortune.


This wouldn't have been terrible, as Draco made enough to live on in his job at the Ministry's Department of International Cooperation. He, however, was a Malfoy, and "enough to live on" simply wouldn't cut it. He enjoyed his lifestyle, his vacations on the Continent, his fancy clothes and food, his home at the Manor. He didn't want to lose that. If Severus decided to exercise his authority and withhold money from Draco, there was a very good chance that Draco would finally crack and agree to marry Pansy. The Slytherin Horde was pushing hard for this. The only reason a marriage had not yet been arranged was that Severus was about as fond of Pansy as Draco was.


Draco knew, though, that Severus would crack sometime. It was only a matter of when. Draco hoped fervently that the old potions master would remain unconvinced for another year and half, until Draco was twenty-five and took full control of the estate. Then nothing anyone said or did could force him to marry Pansy.


Draco sometimes wondered what the Slytherin Horde would do if he never married- or worse, if he married someone they considered unacceptable. They would probably have kittens, he reflected with a grin. He looked over at Ginny Weasley, who was ducking under a branch as the group entered the thick woods on the manor's land. She looked positively homely- her hair slightly frizzy, her shoes old and worn, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. What if, Draco thought, grinning to himself, I married someone like Ginny Weasley? He could imagine the scandal that would arise, the arrogant grins falling off the faces of the Slytherin Horde when they heard the news. It would serve them right, he thought, teach them not to meddle in my business.


He was so caught up in the humor of the thought that he scarcely noticed Severus turning back to the Weasel. "There is a steep drop-off into a ravine along the path ahead," he told her. "Do be careful- we'd hate to have to climb down there to fish you out of it." Ginny nodded, looking slightly apprehensive, which Draco thought was rather cowardly of her. After all, he'd been playing in these trees since he was able to walk, and he'd never fallen. Of course, he had to admit it could be a bit scary, as the ravine was nearly a hundred feet deep and the sides were sheer, vertical rock, but the Weasel still should have shown a little more backbone.


They passed the ravine without incident and entered the clearing where Severus had been bitten. After setting her bag down, Ginny pulled her wand out and began performing spells, pointing at the center of the clearing and at the badger's hole. Whatever the spells showed seemed to satisfy her, and she turned back to Severus with a polite smile. "Everything seems to be all right. I think I won't have to prescribe a potion for you after all, Professor." Severus returned her bland smile, and the group began to head back to the house.


They were passing the ravine again when Draco saw a shape running toward him on the path. Behind him, Ginny stopped dead, obviously afraid of whatever it was, but Draco knew from the shape that it was simply one of the dogs.


The animal, a big, stupid brute called Cassius who had a talent for getting off leashes and tethers, came bounding up the path toward them. It obviously intended to jump on Draco, whom it was very fond of, so Draco simply stepped to the side, assuming everyone would follow suit and the dog would lose its momentum.


That was not what happened, however. The dog started sliding to a halt as it moved past Draco and toward Ginny, who realized belatedly that she ought to get out of its way. For some reason, though, she moved toward the edge of the ravine instead of toward the flat ground on the other side of the path. She started stepping backwards, unable to see how close she was to the cliff, and before anyone could blink she was falling over the edge of the ravine.


Everything seemed to slow down then. Severus began reaching into his robe for his wand, but Draco simply stood and watched her begin to fall in mute surprise, remembering in the back of his mind that both he and Severus had left their wands back at the manor. Then some long-dead instinct awoke in him, and without thinking he found himself diving toward across the path toward her and landing on the hard ground above the cliff.


She was a few feet below him, gripping the rock wall with one hand, her fingers white with the strain and obviously unable to hold on much longer. As he reached down her fingers slipped from their hold on the cliff, but his hands wrapped around her wrists before she could fall. She stared up at him, her brown eyes wide with shock, but quickly recovered and began looking for hand and foot holds to start scrambling up the rock. Draco pulled back as hard as he could, and between the two of them they managed to get her up over the edge.


It all seemed to pass in an instant, and before Draco knew it he was lying on his back next to the cliff with Ginny lying near him and looking stunned. Slightly shaken, but not so much that he would show it, he stood and brushed himself off. "Watch yourself, Weasely," he sneered as he pulled twigs off the front of his robes.


The red-haired girl simply nodded breathlessly as she shakily pulled herself to her feet. Her eyes traveled down over the edge of the cliffs to the pile of rocks a hundred feet below, and she shook her head. "Thank you, Malfoy," she murmured, obviously shocked- though not so shocked, he noticed, that she would slip up and use his first name.


"Are you all right, Miss Weasley?" asked Severus, striding up and looking at her with a concerned expression that most people wouldn't expect to see on the cold professor's face. She nodded, but Draco, ever observant, could see that her hands were shaking. His own hands were shaking slightly too, but he hid them in his pockets. Never show weakness.


The Weasley, however, had apparently never been taught that maxim, and was presently being helped by Severus toward a boulder on the safe side of the path, where she sat down heavily. She looked down a moment, obviously trying to slow her breathing, then looked up at Draco with a confused look on her face. "You saved my life,"she said, and at her words, Draco felt a slight rush of magic flare up around her. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what it was. An identical bit of magic flared up around his own body, and he looked around, wondering where it had come from. His eyes suddenly widened. It can't be.


. . . . . .


Ginny felt the flares of magic too, but seeing as how there were three wizards in the area, she didn't find it at all unusual. She sat a moment longer, slowly breathing in and out, until she felt calmer. Once she felt she could stand, she moved to the edge of the ravine and pulled out her wand. "Accio bag," she said, and her medical bag came flying back up the cliff toward her. Clutching the bag close to her for a few moments, she breathed deeply while she tried to stop the shaking in her hands.


Then she turned back to the two men behind her. Draco was staring at her with an unreadable expression, and Severus was looking back and forth between the two young adults with a raised eyebrow. She wondered about it, but decided it was unwise to delve too deeply into the affairs of slimy gits.


"So, shall we leave, or should I just show myself the way out of here?" she asked sarcastically. To her surprise, neither man answered. She looked back and forth between them slowly for a moment, then shook her head. Fine, she thought. I'll just wander out of here myself. "Well, then, thank you again, Mr. Malfoy," she said formally, nodding to him. "And I hope your ankle doesn't cause you anymore problems," she added, looking at her former professor. Neither returned the farewell, so she shrugged to herself and started down the path.


And then she stopped. Her head was beginning to pound, and every step she took made it feel worse. She felt nauseated and weak, and her body suddenly felt very inclined to turn back toward the two silent men behind her. It was as though something was trying to keep her in the area. That's ridiculous, she thought to herself, and determinedly took another step forward, then another. At the third, she didn't move forward. Trying not to panic, she tried again, but with every step her feet simply slid frictionlessly against the ground, and she stayed in the same spot.


"Trouble, Miss Weasley?" Severus asked.


She turned back to face him. Instantly her headache and nausea left her. "Umm . . ." she replied, feeling foolish. "Yes, actually. Something appears to be wrong. I can't get down the path." She cringed a little, waiting for them to mock her, but to her surprise nothing came. Severus raised an eyebrow and walked past her. He had no trouble at all passing her and moving to the first turning of the path.


Ginny watched him in confusion, her head continuing to pound. Searching for answers, she turned back to Draco, and was surprised to see her headache disappeared when she did so.


Severus returned to where he'd been standing, and he and Draco exchanged significant glances. Severus raised his eyebrows, and Draco nodded slowly. "What is it?" Ginny asked, looking at them suspiciously.


Draco acted like he hadn't even heard her, but Severus looked up and forced a polite smile. "That's an interesting question, Miss Weasley, and one I wish I didn't have to answer. However, you are here now and rather involved, so I guess you'd better hear it. Why don't you come sit down?"


Ginny moved suspiciously toward him and sat tensely down on the same rock she'd been on before. Severus looked at her a long moment, and then sighed. "You took history in your time at Hogwarts, correct?"


Ginny shrugged. "Everyone does. It's a required class."


"Well, then," he replied, "you have undoubtedly heard of such cases as William of Ravensborough and the princess Cecelya?"


Casting her mind back to thick tomes of dull history, Ginny tried to remember the names. "They sound familiar. Didn't William rescue Cecelya and then become lord of . . . somewhere or other?"


Severus nodded. "William married Cecelya after rescuing her. That was a wizarding law back then. If a single man saved the life of a single woman, and they were of equal social standing, she would offer him her hand in reward for his rescue. It was one of the rules of chivalry, and in the wizarding world back then, chivalry was law."


At this, Ginny stole a glance at Draco, who was still watching her with those inscrutable eyes. "What are you saying?" she asked, looking back at Severus.


He shook his head, presumably at her stupidity. "There were spells around back then that forced people to follow these laws. This land has just such a spell on it, and it compels those in it to follow the rules of chivalry. It is now trying to compel you to."


Ginny shook her head. "But that's such an old rule!" she laughed.


"This is a very old forest," Severus replied gravely, and her smile fell. Severus looked around the woods for a moment. "This area hasn't changed much at all since those spells were in use. Most of the manor itself has been rebuilt and remodeled and changed, so the spell has worn off there, but in this forest . . ."


It seemed unbelievable, but she had just as much trouble believing that Severus would make up such a story. She could believe a lot of the former Death Eater, but not that he would make up such a fanciful lie. Feeling a sudden surge of panic, she looked over at Draco. "But you said 'of equal social standing.' As Mr. Malfoy here made a point of telling me nearly every day in school, we are not quite on the same level."


Severus seemed to shrug without moving his shoulders. "Maybe not financially, but in all other ways you are a suitable match. You come from a respectable family-" here Draco snorted and was given a withering look by Severus- "and most importantly, you have pure blood. Social standing back then had as much to do with name as money. I'm sorry, Miss Weasley."


"What are you saying? That's ridiculous! It's ludicrous, and I'm not going to do it." With an annoyed look, she bent to pick up her bag and stalked down the path, only to be stopped by the spell and the oncoming headache. Weakly, she turned around and set her bag down. "How do I get out of here?" she asked, moving toward Severus. "Tell me how to get out of here, and tell me it doesn't involve any ridiculous spells."


Severus shrugged, gesturing toward Draco. "You're both single, both of age. He saved your life in an area where the spell is still strong. I'm sorry, but there's only one way out."


"No," Ginny replied, glancing at the silent Draco and then back at Severus. "I am not going to propose to the great ferret!"


"Relax," Draco said suddenly, speaking up for the first time. "You just have to offer. I don't have to say yes."


Ginny looked to Severus, and he nodded his confirmation. The red-haired witch dropped her head back to gaze helplessly at the cloudy sky, then shook her head and looked back at Draco. "All right," she said, forcing the words out. "But no one hears about this, okay?" Draco nodded impassively, and Ginny sighed. "So how do we do this?"


In the end, Ginny found herself kneeling at Draco's feet, holding his right hand in both of hers. "This may be the most demeaning thing I've ever done," she commented, and Draco raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "All right, sorry," she said, then tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Okay, here goes.


"My lord," she said, straining to remember the words Severus had just taught her, "I owe you my life. In return for this kindness, I offer you my hand in marriage. I am yours, if you like of me. I swear it." Closing her eyes so she wouldn't feel quite so embarrassed, she brought his hand to her face and kissed his signet ring, which bore the seal of the house of Malfoy. It was disgusting and demeaning, but immediately the same flares of magic she had felt before came again, so she knew that she'd be able to leave. She kept kneeling, though, until he refused her offer- after all, she had just sworn on it.


Several long moments passed before Ginny finally looked up at Draco, wondering why he hadn't said no yet. He was looking down at her in an appraising way that made her feel distinctly uneasy. She was about to drop his hand when he spoke.


"All right," he said, smiling maliciously. "I accept."


. . . . . .

. . . . . .


It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her. – Jane Austen


. . . . . .


Ginny blinked. “You what?” she asked politely, hoping she had misheard but inwardly fearing she hadn’t.


Draco grinned ferally. “I accept, Weasel. Let’s get married.”


“Wait a second,” she said, somewhat frantically. Behind Draco, Severus was standing quickly from the rock he’d been sitting on. He was glaring furiously at Draco as she’d never seen him glare at anyone else before. “Draco,” he said warningly, his low voice threatening pain and torture.


Draco, however, didn’t reply. He was too busy smirking at Ginny, who still knelt at his feet, trembling with rage.


“Malfoy,” she hissed, “I would rather marry Filch than you.”


He simply smirked in his supremely irritating way. “That’s not what you swore to me a few minutes ago.”


Ginny jumped to her feet so she could look him in the face. He was nearly a foot taller than she was, but that didn’t stop her from poking him hard in the chest and giving him her best imitation of Ron’s death glare. “You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean that,” she growled. “You took advantage of me, and I will not put up with it!”


Draco shrugged. “All right, leave then.” Ginny turned away from him, but stopped at his next words. “See what happens when you fail to honor your oath.” She froze, knowing perfectly well that she could not go back on her word, not when she’d sworn a wizard’s oath on his ring on this ancient land. Her own powers would rebel against her, and the powers of the Malfoys- well, just the one Malfoy, now- would take their revenge as well. She couldn’t do anything, and she knew that Draco knew it, too, which was what made it all so frustrating. It was all she could do to keep from beating him senseless.


Draco was still looking at her with immense amusement on his face when Severus placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. It was gentle, but she could feel him trembling with barely suppressed rage. “Ginny, could you leave and let Master Malfoy and I talk for a while?”


Draco raised an eyebrow. “No, Severus, I think you had better leave instead. I need to talk to my fiance in private.” Ginny wanted to speak up at that, but she could tell that there was much more to the situation than met the eye, and she wanted to figure out what it was before they made her leave.


The two men stared at each other for a long while until Severus finally flinched and looked away. “All right, but I promise you, Draco, we will have words later.”


Draco nodded lazily, watching the older man walk away. Just before Severus reached the disappeared into the trees, Draco called out again. “Oh, and Severus? No one finds out about what happened here. If anyone does, they will promptly find out about the Cuban incident, and I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.” Severus blanched, but gathered his dignity and stormed away.


Ginny was trying her best to kill Draco with her expression, but he just smiled arrogantly offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you out of the woods . . . my lady.”


. . . . . .


Draco had to admit, he’d almost been as surprised at his acceptance of Ginny’s hand as she herself obviously had been. It had been entirely a foolish impulse, with no pre-planning involved.


The more he thought about it, though, the more he liked the idea. His marriage to such an inconsequential girl would be great publicity for him, and could help soften the image the public had of him as a rich elitist. Also, a connection to the Weasley family, who were growing increasingly influential in middle-class wizard England and the Ministry of Magic, could only be seen as advantageous.


He would have someone to look after him, and he would no longer have to worry about finding a wife or being stuck with some horrid arranged marriage. There would be no threat of Pansy Parkinson. And it wasn’t like there was anyone else he’d rather marry- although he’d had his share of girlfriends, he’d never met anyone he would consider marrying. And once Draco was twenty-five and was out of danger from Severus’ control of the estate, he and Ginny could divorce and both would be free to find someone new.


He would have someone with whom to produce an heir- despite all his taunting of the Weasleys, he knew perfectly well that they were an old wizard line with nearly unblemished blood and notoriously strong powers. He would have Ginny, who, despite that dreadful hair, was not a bad-looking girl and had a rather nice figure. He had a sneaking suspicion that she would clean up very nicely and look very well on his arm at parties.


The best part was that it would give the Slytherin Horde one in the eye. He could just imagine their horror when they discovered he intended to marry the daughter of a family whom some of them referred to among themselves as “the wizarding shame.” That would teach them how to deal with Draco Malfoy- if they pushed him, he would push back harder. All in all, marrying Ginny Weasley seemed like a fantastic idea. Now if he could only convince her of that.


Ginny was glaring at the arm he’d offered her and threatening him with her wand. “I swear, Malfoy, you take your ruddy acceptance back or so help me-”


“Don’t work yourself into a heart attack,” he said drily as he grabbed her arm, slid it through his and began walking down the path. She tried to squirm away from him, but the muscles he’d acquired from years of playing Quidditch kept her in place. She eventually stopped struggling and settled for releasing a nearly unbroken stream of curses and threats, which didn’t bother Draco, as he’d had plenty of practice ignoring such.


In a few minutes they were out of the woods, and he led her inside the house to his study. With a mock bow he showed her to a seat, which she fell ungracefully into, glaring at him all the while.


A devilish grin crossed his face as he turned away to grab a chair. Apparently convincing her might be harder than expected; he, however, was a Malfoy, and as such was very charming when he wanted to be. Erasing the grin, he turned around, sat down and reached out for Ginny’s hands, his face arranged into his most warm, sincere expression. Ginny promptly slapped his hands and sat back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. She did not look impressed.


Draco ignored this and began his speech, using a well-practiced tone of voice that was tender and earnest and just low enough to be almost sensual. “I know we’ve gotten off to a bad start, but Virginia-”


“That’s not my name.”


“What?” He was startled out of his act.


“My name is not Virginia.”


“What is it then?”


“None of your business,” she hissed, scowling at him.


Draco looked at her, eyebrows raised, then shook his head and continued, falling back into his false warmth. “All right, just Ginny, I know we’ve gotten off to a bad start, but the truth is that all those years, I treated you the way I did because . . .” Here he looked down for effect. “The truth is, I did it because I love you. I always have, but I’ve never known how to tell you.” This speech, Draco knew, with his perfect delivery, would have had most girls throwing themselves at him. At just the right moment, he looked up a bit bashfully as though to see her reaction.


Ginny still sat in the same position, her arms folded across her chest. As Draco looked pleadingly at her, she cocked an eyebrow at him, still looking supremely uninterested. “All right,” she said boredly, “now that’s out of your system, would you like to tell me the real reason for trying to make me marry you?”


With a laugh, Draco sat back and folded his arms, mimicking her pose. “Fine, then,” he said in a mocking tone. “I’m not in love with you. I have my own reasons for wanting to marry you which I do not intend to share with you. All you need to know is that I am totally serious in my proposal.”


Ginny sighed, settling back into the leather armchair. “You must be losing your touch. I really thought you were clever all these years, but if you’re serious about this, you must be out of your mind.”


Draco leaned back a little, surprised and a little pleased with himself. “You’ve always thought I was clever?”


Ginny stared at him a moment, then shook her head. “And that was the moment I knew he was insane,” she commented to no one in particular. “Although the time he wanted to marry me was a close second.”


“What’s so crazy about it?” Draco demanded, slightly annoyed. “You’d have more money than your whole family has had in the last thousand years, you’d live in a castle instead of that dump you call a house, and you’d be one of the most influential women in England, instead of being the dregs of society. What’s not to like?”


“What’s not to like,” Ginny said drily, “is being married to someone who managed to give as many insults to my family as he did reasons I should marry him.”


“Well, if I really bother you that much,” Draco said, “we can get divorced after, oh, a year and half. And after you bear me an heir.”


Ginny blinked, then leaned forward, as though she had misheard him. “An heir?” she asked with a deliberately false show of pondering, pretending to seriously consider his words. “Bear your child? Have my own flesh and blood be half Malfoy?” She snorted and shot him a copy of his mocking look. “It’s tempting, Malfoy, but somehow I’m still not convinced.”


Before he could send a really scathing remark back at her, there was a knock at the door. “What is it?” Draco shouted, annoyed.


“Visitor at the door for you, sir,” came the voice of Bernard, the house elf.


Shooting a glare at Ginny that told her to stay put, Draco crossed the room with his usual grace and threw open the door. “Who is it? he demanded.


“Master Zabini is here for you,” Bernard said unaffectedly, being well accustomed to Draco’s bad moods.


Draco sighed. Why did that brute have to come here now? “All right,” he told the house elf. “Show him into the parlor and tell him I’ll be up shortly. I need to finish my conversation with-” he shot a glance back at Ginny- “my fiance.” Bernard’s large eyes widened at the word fiance, but he simply nodded and pulled the door closed.


When he turned back to Ginny, she was visibly seething at him. “I am not your fiance,” she told him.


“Actually, legally, you are,” he drawled, smirking. “A wizard’s oath, like the one you just swore, is both legally and magically binding. I’m sure even you knew that.”


“Yes, but whose side do you think the law will be on when I tell them you tricked me into making the oath?”


“An oath’s an oath,” Draco retorted, “and besides, I’m a Malfoy. I think you’ll find the law always decides to be on my side.” In truth, though, Draco knew she was absolutely right. Such an oath may have been legally binding, but when the Ministry of Magic discovered the circumstances surrounding it, they would undoubtedly take Ginny’s side and force him to retract his acceptance. If he was to make this work, he couldn’t rely on the binding of the oath. He would have to convince Ginny to stay of her own free will.


He looked at Ginny, who was still looking at him as though she wanted to see him dead. “All right,” he said, sighing in unfeigned exasperation, “let’s be perfectly straight about this. Weaselette, why won’t you marry me?”


“Are you serious?” she asked, cocking her head and studying his face. When he nodded, she shrugged. “Well, let’s see.” She made a great show of pondering the quesiton. “Well, for one thing, I hate you. Do you think I’ve forgotten how you treated me and my friends and family at school? Or how because of your father, I opened the Chamber of Secrets and almost killed my classmates? And I certainly haven’t forgotten what a prat you were during the war, always ‘Get me this’ or ‘Make me that’ or ‘Ginny, rub my feet.’ Somehow, that really didn’t endear you to me.”


Draco shrugged nonchalantly. Inwardly, though, he was cursing himself for how his earlier actions had come back to haunt him. It was unfortunate, because the more he thought about it, the more he thought marrying Ginny was the perfect solution to his problems. He had to get out of Slytherin Horde’s marriage plans relatively quickly, but he didn’t have that many choices of women he could propose to. Most of the desirable women he knew hated him because he’d dated all of them and all their relationships had ended up in messy breakups. Any women he hadn’t dated probably had that status because he couldn’t stand them, so marrying them was right out.


Ginny, though, would be different than all those other women he had and had not dated. She wasn’t madly in love with him, so she wouldn’t become clingy and needy. She didn’t have expensive tastes, so she wouldn’t waste all his money. And most of all, he actually liked Ginny Weasley. Not very much, and not everything about her, but the time they’d spent together in the Order had shown him that they were very similar. Both were hot-blooded and resented being told what to do, and both had wicked senses of humor. The big difference was that while both could be caustic and sarcastic, he tended further toward the rude end of the spectrum, while she could never really be unkind to anyone. In fact, while she was tending to the ill and the wounded, she was almost angelic. He’d never told her this, of course, but seeing her again, even five years later, was reminding him that despite how much she hated him, she was the only one of the Order he’d ever been able to tolerate.


Lost in thought, Draco nearly didn’t notice that Ginny was continuing her rant. “And second, I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you. Even if I was madly in love with you, I would never have accepted that proposal. I mean, you don’t love me, and you won’t tell me why you want to marry me? Do you know how suspicious that sounds? I’m sure you have some ridiculous scheme going on, and I’m not going to give you any leverage to use in it.”


That, Draco reflected, was very sensible. He was impressed by her level-headedness. He was also annoyed at it, because it certainly wasn’t helping his own cause, but he was impressed, nonetheless. “Fine, Weasel,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll tell you why I want to marry you.”


Then he told her all about the Slytherin Horde, their plans for his marriage, and Severus’ control over the estate. She listened to it all quietly, nodding every so often. “I don’t know if you’ve seen Pansy Parkinson lately,” Draco said, “but she’s-”


“So dreadful that you’d rather marry a Weasley?” Ginny piped in, grinning wryly.


Draco had the distinct impression that she felt he deserved the unpleasant situation he was currently in. “Yes. So, that’s the truth,” he said. “That’s why.”


“Draco, that’s a very tragic story,” Ginny said, “and I wish you luck. But I really need to be getting back to work, so if you’ll be so kind as to take back your accepting my oath, I’ll be on my way.”


“Come on, Weasel,” he said, struggling to control his annoyance. “You asked for the truth and I gave it to you. Could you at least do me the courtesy of considering it?”


“I have considered it,” she said with a sigh, “just to be nice. But even you have to see how ludicrous it is. Even if I believed your intentions were pure, do you really think I’d accept? What would my family say? What would the rest of the wizarding world say?”


“What would Saint Potter say?” Draco cut in nastily. He knew being snide was not a good way to deal with the situation, but some habits were just too strong. Ginny shot him a withering look.


Draco returned the look. “Come on, Weasel. I’m proposing marriage, not asking you to spend the rest of your life with me.” Ginny gave a short laugh of amusement and disbelief, and Draco raised an eyebrow at her, thoroughly confused. “And I won’t make you bear me an heir if you don’t want to.”


“Goodbye, Draco. It was sort of nice seeing you again. Send me an announcement when you marry Pansy.” Ginny stood and lifted her medical bag, then turned and headed out of the study.


Draco followed close behind. “I wouldn’t waste the parchment on an announcement for you,” he said snidely, but inside he was resigned. Well, it was a good idea, he thought, but I’m simply going to have to find another way out of this marriage.


. . . . . .


After a few steps, Ginny had to move to the side to allow Draco to move into the lead, as she had no idea how to get to the front door. As the pair moved in silence through the castle, Ginny found herself grinning. Of all the men she’d ever known, this was the last one she would have expected to receive a proposal of marriage from. It was flattering, in its way, as well as somewhat disturbing. Of course, he wasn’t proposing out of any great affection, but he must have decided that he could bear living with her, which was quite a compliment coming from Draco Malfoy.


She wondered, chuckling silently, what her friends would say if they knew she’d gotten an offer of marriage from the rich and famous Draco Malfoy. As she imagined the looks on their faces, another group of faces popped into her mind, and her smile fell. Never, ever mention this to anyone, she told herself firmly, because if Harry, Ron or Hermione ever finds out I will never hear the end of it. She knew exactly what their reactions would be. Hermione would go straight to her textbooks from law school, research wizard’s oaths, declare that they were going to take legal action against Draco, and then spend days tirading about the repression of the lower classes by the rich. Ron would be silent a long moment while his entire face turned beet red, and then he would start to shout, threatening Draco with horrible deaths, and she would have to restrain him from going out to make good on his threats.


And Harry . . . Ginny sighed as she thought of him. Harry would look wounded, silently shocked at the way she had been treated, and then take on his Sir Harry role, the tragic hero willing to fight Draco for his lady’s honor. Which, Ginny supposed, would be very flattering if she wanted Harry as her knight. But she didn’t- she hadn’t for a long time. She’d fallen out of love with Harry some time during school, and was content to be just his friend. But then, inexplicably, he’d decided, sometime during the war, that he and Ginny belonged together, and he had tried to court her several times since. Ginny had refused him every time. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Harry- it was just that she didn’t like Harry. This did not please Mrs. Weasley, who wanted the Boy Who Lived as a son-in-law. At every family gathering, she still pestered Ginny about her indifference to Harry, which only made her want to be near him less. If it kept up, she was in a fair way to hate Harry in a month or two.


Draco opened the door to the front hall just then, interrupting Ginny’s thoughts. Bernard appeared out of nowhere, getting ready to open the front door for her. “Hold on,” Draco said, and Ginny thought he still sounded put out by her refusal. “I’m going to go see if Zabini has anything urgent to say, and then I’ll be back out with the money for St. Mungo’s.” He crossed the entryway and opened a door, which seemed to lead into a sitting room.


He left the door open, and Ginny could found she could hear the conversation. She tried not to- that was eavesdropping, after all- but the temptation was just too great, and she gave in and listened.


“What an unpleasant surprise, Zabini. What brings you-”


An unfamiliar, angry voice burst out of the room, making Ginny step back a little. “Draco Malfoy! What on earth do you think you’re playing at?”


“Well, I was trying to receive my courteous guest-”


“You know perfectly well what I mean!” the obnoxiously loud voice continued. “Your house elf tells me you were talking to your fiance! Draco, what are you thinking, getting engaged?”


Ginny, supremely irritated by the man’s voice and attitude, raised an eyebrow in distaste. Well, I thought you wanted him to get married, she thought with irritation.


Draco, still standing in the doorway, cocked his head. “But Zabini,” he said in a falsely innocent voice, “I thought you wanted me to get married.”


Ginny blinked. That was creepy.


“Yes,” Zabini said, exasperated, “but to someone suitable. Your house elf says that he has reason to believe that the woman you were with was a Weasley!” His voice dropped almost to a whisper at those last words, as though afraid someone was listening. “Draco, I forbid you to marry a Weasley.”


“Why?” Draco, feigning ignorance, while in the entryway Ginny felt her blood starting to boil.


A fist slammed against a table in the sitting room. “Because they’re Weasleys! They’re a disgrace to society. They oughtn’t even be allowed to be wizards! To have a red-haired Weasley moving in our social circle, attending all our gatherings, would be humiliating to everyone involved.”


Ginny was halfway across the entryway before she realized what she was doing. She didn’t stop, though, driven on by the furious pounding of blood in her ears. Zabini was still talking. “Draco, tell me, are you engaged to the Weasley girl?”


Before Draco could reply, Ginny opened and shut another door in the entryway, then walked bouncily over to the sitting room, pretending she’d just gotten there. Draco turned to her, his face slightly confused. “Hey,” she said, a smile plastered on, “I got my bag from the house elves. I’m ready to leave.” She walked up to where he was standing and slipped her arm around his waist, then turned and feigned surprise when she saw the man in the sitting room.


“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here!” she said, then smiled up at Draco. His face was carefully neutral, as he was obviously unsure of what she was doing. Moving past him into the sitting room, Ginny came face to face with the man who had insulted her family so much. He was sitting on a sofa, his face a mix of confusion and distaste.


“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, sticking out her hand. Her logical side couldn’t believe what she was doing, but it was entirely buried under her rage and her need to give this man some comeuppance. When she opened her mouth, it was her fiery temper speaking, saying, for what would not be the last time, words that would get her into a lot of trouble. “I’m Ginny Weasley, Draco’s fiance.”


. . . . . .

. . . . . .


Angry people are not always wise. - Jane Austen


. . . . . .


The man on the couch stared at her outstretched hand in mute shock. Draco, however, didn't miss a beat. His face immediately broke into a smooth smile, and he leaned down and kissed Ginny's cheek. "Ginny, this is Mr. Zabini. I believe you remember his son Blaise from school." He looked back at Zabini, and Ginny followed his gaze to the dark-haired man. Swallowing her rage, she tried to arrange her face to look like a girl vaguely interested in her fiance's friend, rather than an angry Weasley about to rip a man's throat out.


"We were actually just talking about you," Draco continued smoothly, "but I believe Mr. Zabini has nothing more to say on the subject." He shot the man a glare so pointed that Ginny was sure she would have withered up and died had it been aimed at her.


Zabini, however, was unmoved by the glare and seemed to have a lot more to say on the subject. He stood and advanced on her slowly, looking, despite his age and bulging stomach, like a jungle cat about to pounce. "Weasley," he said softly.


Draco interrupted him. "Please have the decency to refer to her Miss Weasley, Mr. Zabini," he said, and Ginny was glad to see that the dangerous-looking wizard in front of her did not frighten her supposed fiance.


"Miss Weasley," Zabini corrected himself, "please tell me you're not serious."


Her anger overcoming any rational warnings in her mind, she stepped forward defiantly. "Why shouldn't I be?" she asked in a tone of deadly calm, and was pleased to see Zabini deflate a bit.


"Because- because you're not a suitable wife for him!" Zabini burst out angrily.


He was still leaning toward her, breathing heavily in his anger, but he stepped back when Draco suddenly advanced on him. "Zabini, we've known each other for a long time, and I'd hate to have to end our acquaintance just because you can't control yourself in front of my fiance. I think it's time for you to leave." The cold firmness in his voice almost startled Ginny, and it seemed to have the same effect on Zabini, who quickly stood and gathered his things.


"Draco," he said almost despairingly as he prepared to leave, "please think about what you're doing- if not for your sake, then for hers. She wouldn't last one minute here!"


Ginny's temper flared up again, and she let her face settle into an expression of bland politeness. "Mr. Zabini," she said calmly, "you do not know me at all, so please do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."


Draco smiled. "Now, was there anything in particular you came over to say?"


Zabini's face darkened, and he stood quickly, gathering his things as he muttered his business to Draco. "Elise wanted me to come . . . remind you about the party for the Stewarts tonight . . ." He looked up at Draco and Ginny, scowling. "But I'm not sure we want you to come anymore!" he shouted, then stalked out the front door to Apparate, leaving Draco and Ginny alone in the parlor.


Once he heard the cracking noise that meant that Zabini was gone, Draco turned to Ginny, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure that was a good idea?" he asked.


She fell back into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "No," she said in a muffled voice. "In fact, I'm fairly sure that wasn't a good idea at all."


A smirk appeared on Draco's face. Perhaps this would be easier than expected. As he looked down at Ginny's still form, though, curled miserably up on an armchair with her face still hidden, he felt a stab of pity for the girl who had talked herself into such a mess. Not enough to make him retract the oath- in fact, not very much at all- but enough that he called a house elf to bring in some tea.


When the house elf returned, Ginny accepted a cup of tea with slightly unsteady hands and sipped it slowly. Draco, sipping at his own tea, studied the red-haired girl over the rim of his teacup and pondered his next move.


Fortunately, at that moment, a fantastic opportunity for said next move presented itself in the form of a Floo network call. Draco looked up as the flames turned green, then smiled to see the head that appeared in his fireplace. "Elise," he said warmly as he got up and moved closer.


In the fireplace, the face of a dark-haired woman several years older than Draco smiled back. "Draco," she grinned as she saw him. "It's so good to see you! I haven't seen you since when? The Parkinsons' ruby wedding?" Then she raised an eyebrow. "So, where is she?"


Draco smirked. He might have known that would be her first question. Before he could turn to look for his supposed fiance, however, Ginny appeared next to him, still looking wary. "Yes?" she asked, and Draco was surprised that she had known immediately that the head in the fireplace was looking for her. He covered his surprise, though, and smiled. "Ginny, this is Elise Stewart, formerly Elise Zabini. We've been friends for . . ."


"For at least forever," Elise broke in, smiling.


"At least forever," Draco finished. "And Elise, this is Ginny Weasley."


Elise gasped a little. "So you are a Weasley!" she said, her eyes wide with surprise. But instead of being angry like her father, she broke out into a grin. "Draco, you madman, they're going to massacre you." Before Draco could protest, Zabini's daughter turned back to Ginny and smiled. "I'm so sorry for the way Daddy acted. I'm at my parents' right now, and he was so angry when he got home. He didn't tell me what he said, but I know he's an absolute brute when he's angry. Please don't listen to anything he said."


Draco stole a glance at Ginny, who was staring at the fireplace in surprise. "Uh . . . thank you," she said slowly.


Elise grinned again. "You have no idea how delighted we are to hear that Draco's finally settling down. And you seem like such a nice girl! We were so afraid that he would end up marrying that Parkinson girl, but now he has you, and this is just splendid."


Draco grinned at his old friend. "Thank you, Elise," he said sincerely, the wheels in his head beginning to turn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny open her mouth, probably to tell Elise that she and Draco weren't engaged, so he jumped in before she could speak. "So what are you calling about?"


As he'd hoped, the flurry of words coming out of Elise's mouth covered up anything Ginny had intended to say. "Goodness, I entirely forgot! Draco, you remember James and I are in charge of his parents' wedding anniversary party tonight?" She turned to Ginny. "James is my husband," she explained. "Just wait until you meet him! I think the four of us are going to get on splendidly." She turned back to Draco. "Well, I was just calling to say that we want you to bring your lovely fiance. Have you announced your engagement formally yet? If not, we'd be delighted to have you do so at the party."


"Thanks," Draco said with a smile, the plan he'd been forming finally taking shape in his mind. "That would mean a lot to Ginny and me."


Ginny tried to interrupt then, but Draco kissed her on the cheek again, which, as he'd hoped, surprised her into silence long enough for him to put an arm around her shoulders and say, "So, we'll see you tonight?"


"Fabulous," Elise grinned. "Ginny Weasley, it was absolutely delightful to meet you. I'll be looking for you tonight, all right? Good bye!" With another flash of green flame, Elise Stewart disappeared.


As Ginny pushed his arm off of her, Draco watched the flames dance in the fireplace a moment longer, working out all the details of his brilliant plan. When he was sure of everything, he looked back at Ginny just in time to see her fist flying toward his face. It turned out that she had a mean right hook. As he fell back into an armchair, holding his eye, Draco reasoned that this ability probably came from growing up with six brothers.


"What was that for?" he demanded.


Ginny glared belligerently at him. "Why did you tell that girl that we're engaged and that we're going to announce it at her party? Now your friends are going to think we're really getting married!"


Beginning to get truly annoyed, Draco gave her his most superior look, while gingerly touching his swelling eye. "Because, Weasel," he said in a voice that was tight but still drawling and arrogant, "first, we are engaged, so, second, we will have to announce it at some point. And third, my friends already think I'm engaged. You know how gossip works, right? If I know Zabini, he's already told everyone he knows, and they'll be telling their families. I imagine the entire Slytherin Horde will know by sunset." He touched his eye again and winced.


"You're despicable," Ginny told him. "We are not engaged."


Draco wasn't listening to her. "I think you blackened my eye," he said in disbelief. "I can't believe you hit me. You gave me a black eye."


Ginny was glaring at him, but apparently her conscience got the best of her because she reluctantly pulled out her wand and began examining his eye, glaring all the while. Draco hid a smile. It was time to put his plan into action.


"So, what are you going to do?" he asked her.


"Well," she replied, "I'm going to heal your eye, and then you're going to retract the oath, and then you're going to tell all your friends that we are not engaged, that we were never engaged, and that we never will be engaged."


"But we are engaged."


"Do you want me to heal this eye or not?"


"But we really are engaged."


Ginny actually growled in frustration. "Fine, then. New plan. I'm going to heal this eye, and then I'm going straight to the Ministry of Magic and sending them up here to arrest you and force you to retract the oath. And then you're going to tell all your friends that we aren't engaged, because at that point it will be true. And then you're going to never bother me again."


"If you're so mad at me," Draco asked, "why are you still healing my eye?


"I could just jab it with my wand, if you'd prefer," Ginny said sweetly, then fired a spell at his face. Draco immediately felt the pain in his eye begin to recede, and when he touched it he could tell the swelling had gone down.


Ginny was still standing right in front of him, glaring. With a smirk, he stood and grabbed her arm, slipping it through his and holding it with an iron grasp so she couldn't wriggle away. "Let's talk, Miss Weasley," he said, turning so he could look into her eyes. They were actually very pretty, he thought to himself. Inwardly shaking that bizarre thought out of his mind, he asked, "So, you refuse to come to the party tonight, yes?"


Ginny rolled her pretty eyes. "Obviously."


"Well," Draco said, "we've already established that everyone I know will know that we're engaged. Or at least, engaged according to me," he added quickly as she used her free hand to hit his shoulder. He rubbed his now aching shoulder and continued. "So, how do you think everyone's going to react when you don't show up?" Ginny's brows furrowed, and Draco knew she'd already made the connection he was about to make.


"They'll all think you backed out," he continued.


She frowned at him. "You could tell them that we were never engaged, so there's no real reason that I would have come."


Draco smiled sweetly. "Of course I could," he said. "But do you think I will?


She growled in frustration at him. "Or I could just call the Aurors."


"This is not an offense I can get arrested for. Believe you me, I have spent a lot of time figuring out exactly how much trouble I can get into without going too far. This definitely doesn't qualify as too far. If you go to the Ministry, you'll have to talk to the Department of Law, and as it's after four o'clock, they're already closed."


"Then I'll go to them tomorrow," she said, as though that should have been obvious.


"Yes, but what tonight? What about everyone at the party? When you don't show up, and I offer no satisfactory explanation, they'll think that you couldn't handle it, and Zabini will think that he was right, that you wouldn't last in our society. By the time you get to the Department of Law tomorrow, the most important people in the country will have decided that the Weasley family really has no backbone after all. All the people who dislike your family will decide that they were right all along, and that your family is weak and cowardly. Is that what you want?"


As he'd expected, Ginny was glowering. Turned out the girl was very easy to manipulate- just play off her family pride. She met his gaze fiercely, but then her eyes dropped to the floor. "No," she said softly, and he could sense the anger behind it.


"Then what are you going to do?"


There was a long moment of silence. Finally- "I'm going to come." She looked up at him. "But only so we can tell your friends that we've decided, mutually, to break it off."


"Maybe you'll change your mind about breaking it off," he said smugly. "How long do you think you're going to be able to resist my manly charms?"


She hit him again.


. . . . . .


The first thing Ginny did when she left the Manor and heard the front door close behind her was to pinch her arm, hard. She knew had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation. How else did a poor girl of no consequence go to her childhood bully's house for a medical call, and leave engaged to one of the richest men in Britain? It was impossible. She had to be dreaming. Unfortunately, she felt the pinch quite strongly. Apparently the dream theory wasn't going to work. She Apparated back to St. Mungo's, rubbing the now-sore spot on her arm all the while. On reaching the hospital, she talked to Glennis and got the rest of the day off.


A few minutes later, Ginny was strolling slowly down the street. Although she could have Floo'd or Apparated, she preferred walking because it gave her some time to think. As she walked, her mind ran confusedly through all the possible reasons she'd found herself in such an odd situation: she was insane? Part of a sinister plot by Draco or Snape? An elaborate trick by . . . by who? Who would think of such a thing? Fred and George? They were tricky, but they still had taste and discretion. Even if they'd had the ability to force Draco into this plot, they would never had concocted a scheme that would have been so painful and injurious to her or the rest of the Weasleys.


Speaking of her family, what were they going to say when they found out? They would be furious, all of them. Bill and Charlie wouldn't stay mad long, but with Ron or her father she would have a lot more trouble convincing them not to kill Draco with their bare hands.


And from friends- well, of all her friends, Luna alone would probably be the only one not convinced that the whole affair was going crazy. The rest would be shocked, and it could only cause trouble should they meet up with Draco in the future. Even if she tried to explain it all to them, they'd have trouble understanding.


No, she decided, it would be much better if her family and friends never found out about any of what had happened out in those woods. She would simply claim that checking out the scene of the accident had taken longer than expected, which was why the call had taken so long. Then she would tell anyone who asked that she was going shopping in the evening, when she would actually be at the party. She and Draco would get this whole matter taken care of quietly, and no one would ever find out that she had spent one afternoon engaged to a Malfoy. There would be no fights, no screaming or crying, no fuss at all.


She wished, a little, that there was someone she could tell her
outrageous story to. It would make for a good laugh, and maybe they could back her up if she ended up taking her case to the Ministry of Magic. There was no one, though. Luna wouldn't be angry with her, but she would probably publish a wedding announcement in The Quibbler, which she co-edited, and that would cause no end of problems. Of everyone else she knew, she couldn't think of one person who she could tell without fear of irrational reactions. Even if she explained the circumstances to them, they would be upset with her for finding herself in that particular situation and not being able to handle it effectively. And as much as she was worried about Draco's friends looking down on her, she was more worried about her own friends looking down on her. They would think her stupid for getting so entangled in the situation. No, it was much better that she take care of it without telling anyone.


Now that she thought of it, she hadn't handled that whole meeting particularly effectively at all. From the first moment Draco had gotten it into his head to marry her, he had controlled the situation, called all the shots. She had stood by passively and allowed him to betrothe himself to her. Because if she'd handled the situation at all well, she wouldn't be engaged to Draco, now, would she?


No, she had been entirely too passive throughout the whole affair. In fact, she'd been rather nice about it. She should have killed him for what he did, but she didn't. She didn't even try. She did blacken both his eyes, but both times she soon healed him. Why had she been so decent to someone so indecent?


As she pondered this in the hallway outside her door, looking for her keys, she realized that it was because for some bizarre reason, her subconscious trusted him and pitied him for the way his social group was trying to force him into marrying someone he hated. It was stupid- he'd probably been lying through his teeth and was trying to marry her so he could blackmail her father or Harry- but that small piece of her still trusted him, all the same.


And that, she concluded, was madness. She hated Draco Malfoy. She always had. He'd been so terrible to her and hers during school, and she'd wished for nothing more than for him to disappear for good. Later, when he joined the Order of the Phoenix, she'd believed that perhaps there was more to him than the cruel bully, and that perhaps he'd left his childish ways behind him at school. When she began working with the Order herself, though, she'd come to realize that even if he had turned to the good side, he was still the same terrible person he'd always been.


As she stood in her bedroom, changing out of her work robes, her mind played over all the rude things he'd done while he was in the Order- the teasing, the insults, the unreasonable demands, the times he'd made her act as little more than a servant to him, just to keep him happy and in the Order. And then she remembered, as she invariably did when she thought of him, the day he'd forced her to go with him to Malfoy Manor.


It had been three years after she'd joined, a mere month before Voldemort was defeated. Late one night a group of Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry offices, led by Voldemort's second-in-command, Lucius Malfoy. Draco had disappeared somewhere near the beginning of the battle, so he wasn't there when his father died, killed by two simultaneous curses from Hermione and Ron. The Death Eaters had immediately fled, and the next day, for the first time since the beginning of the war, there was peace in central London.


The Order had decided to allow themselves a cautious celebration, and so spent the next afternoon at the Burrow, playing Quidditch, talking on the porch, eating a large meal from Mrs. Weasley, and simply enjoying themselves for the first time in three years. While there, Bill and Fleur had announced their engagement, and Fred had finally admitted his feelings for Angelina Johnson in what was described by some as the most dramatically humorous event of the Season.


Ginny, however, had not been there. Draco had stopped her in the hall of the Order's headquarters as everyone was leaving for the Burrow, informing her that he had an errand to run and she was going to come with him. She flatly refused, but he, after telling Mrs. Weasley that he and Ginny would not be attending the party, had grabbed Ginny's wrist and Apparated, stealing her wand in the process so that she could not Apparate back.


She had cursed and threatened him, but he, ignoring her threats, had performed a spell that kept her from leaving the house without him. Then he'd stationed her in the front hall, giving her instructions to ring for a house elf if anyone approached the house, and disappeared for the next few hours. To date, she still had no idea what he'd been doing during that time.


When they'd finally returned to the Burrow, the party had wound down and many of the Order members were already leaving. Ginny had hit Draco- it was something of a habit with her- and fled to her room, so she didn't have to see him anymore. Even now, two years later, the memory of it made her furious.


With great effort, Ginny forced herself to stop pacing around the room and glowering. That had been a long time ago, and she would not let the memory of what that slimeball had done upset her. She was better than that. Taking a deep breath, she sat on her bed and forced herself to calm down.


Once she was no longer seeing red, she lay back on her pillow and began running over what she was going to do that night. She had to go to the party, to save face, but once she was there she needed to convince all of Draco's friends that for no reason pertaining to his social status, she and Draco had decided to break it off. A thought popped into her head. Maybe while they were there, she could stage a fight? Make a scene, pull off the ring and throw it into his face? Of course, she didn't have a ring, but she could either transfigure an old one to look like an engagement ring, or force Draco to buy her a real one. That might be nice.


A smile on her face, Ginny lost herself in thoughts of how to break up with Draco.


. . . . . .


At seven o'clock that evening, Draco Malfoy stood in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He was dressed in semi-formal dress robes- one must always have a sense for the proper level of dress for fancy occasions- and was presently hoping that Ginny had taken his advice and dug up something similarly nice. He also hoped that she had some sense of fashion. Even if he was trying to marry her because she was reprehensible to the Slytherin Horde, he still had good friends who were going to be at the party tonight, and he didn't want his fiance to embarrass him.


Speaking of fiance, where was she? Draco checked his watch. Five minutes after seven. He sighed in disgust. Even if being fashionably late was . . . well, fashionable, punctuality was a virtue worthy of praise. Apparently the Weasel felt differently about it, as she was now officially late.


A thought that had been in the back of his mind all afternoon now came up to bother him again. What if she didn't come? What if she'd just said she would so she could get revenge by standing him up? That would not be a pleasant thing for him. Plans to avoid Pansy aside, this engagement was now a matter of personal pride. He knew that public sentiment wouldn't entirely go the way he'd told Ginny it would. If Ginny didn't come, he couldn't possibly show his face at the party, and if he didn't go to the party, people would soon find out why. Even though most of his peers would be pleased that his engagement to the Weasley girl had fallen through, there would still be a sense in the back of everyone's minds that Draco Malfoy, the rich, powerful and charming lord, hadn't been able to hold onto a girl- and a girl who was a Weasley, no less. It would simply be humiliating. No, she had to come, for his sake.


Besides, he'd spent too much effort on making sure the evening would be perfect. He'd visited Zabini and commented that he hoped the man could be on his best behavior that night, because if anything untoward occurred or was said, Draco's resulting reactions might not be pleasant for Zabini's sense of decorum and social niceties. He'd also contacted Snape and, by simply mentioning a certain messy business deal the man was trying to keep quiet, convinced him not to attend at all. After all that work, Draco would have been quite put out if Ginny hadn't shown up.


He spent several more minutes sending seething thoughts toward her, tardiness and the Weasleys in general before there was a soft popping behind him. He could recognize the sound of her breathing, so he didn't even have to turn around to know it was her.


"You're late," he sneered as she walked up to where he stood. "What, can't you afford to buy a watch?"


She didn't hit him then, but from the look on her face it was a near thing.


"You know, Weasel," he said thoughtfully, "you should stop glaring at me so much. You're actually quite pleasant-looking when your face isn't all scrunched up and red like that."


Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Charmed, I'm sure," she said drily. "So, we should figure out what we're going to do at the party before we Apparate there."


"I'd rather not talk here- too many listening ears," Draco said. "Besides, nothing that I intend for us to do at the party needs planning. Drink too much wine? Dance scandalously close together in the ballroom? Snog out in the garden? Disgrace your family name?" Draco shrugged. "I prefer letting that kind of thing take its own course. You can't plan a good snog."


It was interesting, Draco thought, the way that vein in her neck throbbed when she was angry. It was not becoming at all. He would definitely have to talk to her about that before the wedding, because a lady of the house of Malfoy should be nothing if not becoming. As he pondered this, Ginny punched his shoulder again, and as he rubbed his now limp and throbbing arm, he thought that perhaps he ought to have his talk with her about her unattractive temper tantrums when she was at least five feet away, and possibly tethered to a tree like a dog. Somehow, though, he didn't think she would like that, either. Some women were just difficult to please.


"Well, Weasley," he said, offering his good arm to her, "shall we go?"


. . . . . .

. . . . . .


Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
I thought that all things had been savage here,
And therefore I put on the countenance
Of stern commandment.


- As You Like It, act II, scene VII


. . . . . .


The Stewart home was an enormous granite mansion deep in the heart of Derbyshire. When Ginny and Draco appeared in front of it, it was all Ginny could do to keep from gasping. It wasn't as large as Malfoy Manor, but the house was obviously several hundred years newer, and looked, to Ginny's admittedly untrained eye, Elizabethan in style. Malfoy Manor, by comparison, looked like a medieval castle, hulking and foreboding.


Ginny looked around in delight at the well-manicured front lawn, the spacious park around the house, and the graceful columns and arches of the house. Music and light were pouring out of the windows and open doors, making the whole area seem warm and friendly. "You know, Malfoy," she said thoughtfully, "if Malfoy Manor looked this inviting, I think you'd have a lot less trouble getting girls to marry you."


"I'll keep that in mind," he said sarcastically, then grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a nearby bush, carefully pruned to look like a swan.


"Classy," she commented, looking up at the swan.


Draco just rolled his eyes and told her, "We can talk here- we're hidden from the view of the house and the Apparation point."


"Lovely," Ginny said. "So, how are we going to do this?"


Draco shrugged. "Well, Elise said there'll be toasts for the Stewarts near the end of the night. After everyone's toasted them, Elise will say that I have an announcement. Then I'll come forward and tell everyone that today, I have the great fortune to announce my engagement to Miss Virginia Weasley, of the Weasleys of Ottery St. Catchpole."


Ginny frowned. "First, I already told you that my name is not Virginia."


"Fine," Draco butted in. "I'll call you Ginny. Shall we go in?"


He made to leave, but Ginny caught his arm. "No, Malfoy, that was only my first point. My second point is that we are not going to announce our engagement. We're here to convince people that we are not engaged, remember?"


"Maybe that's what you intend to do," he replied, "but as for me . . ."


"Malfoy!" she interrupted him, shaking him a little. "Please don't do this! I do not want to have to get the Ministry of Magic involved in this. Then everyone will know that we were engaged, and my family will have a fit, and my friends will think I'm insane, and you'll be in trouble with the Ministry, and that would affect your standing with your job, and it'll be all over the papers, and people will give us funny looks in the street . . . let's just don't go there, Malfoy."


"But I want to go there, Ginny."


"Oh, honestly!" Ginny said in exasperation. "Look, I'm not going into that party until you agree that we'll tell everyone we're not engaged."


There was a long pause while Draco studied her, making Ginny rather uncomfortable. When he finally spoke, his voice held an undeniable hint of unfeigned frustration. "Look, sweetheart," he said, "you're not being very fair about all this. You don't want to marry me because you think that me and my kind are all terrible people. But you've never even met most of us. So, look, I'll make you a deal. Come into the party, act like you like me, spend some time getting to know me, meet my friends. And at the end of the evening, if you still absolutely hate me, I'll tell everyone that we decided mutually to call it off. I'll even come up with a really good reason for our breakup that doesn't make you look bad." He stuck his hand out.


Ginny didn't have to think very hard about whether or not to agree to the deal. All she had to do was spend a few hours at a fancy party, and she'd be freed from her oath. And it wasn't like there was any chance of her deciding not to call the engagement off at the end of the night. "All right," she said, shaking Draco's hand. "It's a deal."


He smiled. "Good. Now, before we go in . . ." He proceeded to give a quick lesson in proper etiquette for the party. Ginny listened attentively- after all, that information might come in handy later in life.


"Now," he said when he was done, "about your appearance." He gave her a quick once over, examining her dress robes and hair with a critical eye.


Ginny smiled as he did so. She knew that her robes were perfect for the occasion and very fashionable; a friend of hers who also worked at St. Mungo's and who was a fashion guru had picked them out for her on a recent shopping trip. "The perfect semi-formal robes," she'd called them.


After a moment more thought, Draco nodded. "The robes are fine," he said. "Decent color on you." Ginny felt, at that moment, very pleased with herself and very benevolent toward Draco, so she didn't even scowl at him when he asked, "But who did your hair? A garden gnome?" He pulled out his wand and studied her for a moment, frowning. "With these robes and your coloring, your hair should be . . ." He murmured a spell under his breath, and Ginny felt her hair sweep itself up into an elaborate style.


She just shook her head at him. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that spell." Then she stepped away from him and grinned wryly. "So, am I going to embarrass you too much?"


He shrugged. "Not too much," he said, and she scowled at him as he came up to escort her inside.


They were near the bottom of the front stairs when Draco reached into his robe pocket and pulled a small box out. "Almost forgot. I figured we ought to look the part," he said, showing her the silver band on his fourth finger.


Ginny opened the box he gave her to find a beautiful diamond ring inside. She had to fight back a gasp as she saw it. It was just what she would have picked for herself- simple and silver, with a square cut diamond flanked by two smaller diamonds.


"I bought it in Diagon Alley today," he told her nonchalantly, as though buying diamonds was an everyday occurrence for him. "It probably cost as much as your father makes in a year."


Ginny's first inclination was to stomp on his foot, but he had spent a lot of money on a ring for her, so she forced her anger back and looked down at the ring on her finger. "It's beautiful," she told him honestly.


He looked over at her then, a strange look on his face. "It's the same style as my mother's was. I figured you two would have had similar tastes." He paused a moment. "I think she would have liked you," he said, his voice soft, and for a moment Ginny didn't know what to say.


Then Draco shrugged. "Yes, Mum always did have weird taste in friends," he said with a feigned condescending sigh, then strolled off toward the front stairs. Shaking her head in exasperation and fighting back an insult, Ginny followed after him.


. . . . . .


The inside of the house was even more magnificent than the outside. It was all marble and columns and frescoes, and the furniture was all antiques that had been in the family for years. Of course, having known the Stewarts all his life, Draco barely even noticed what the place looked like anymore. When they entered, though, he was reminded of how beautiful the house was when he heard Ginny's quick intake of breath. When he glanced over at her, her eyes were full of admiration as she took in the front hall. She was doing it very discretely, though, and he was glad she had the sense not to gawk and stare as though she'd never seen a house this elaborate- which, he pondered, she probably hadn't. She'd seen Malfoy Manor, which was an old and rich house, but it didn't have the kind of elegance and charm that the Stewart home did.


"All right," he said, turning to Ginny. "Are you ready for this?


"No," came her quick answer, and Draco smirked.


"At least you're honest," he said, and reached out to thread her arm through his. "And do try to be a little more confident when you're in there."


"Fine," she replied. "But you remember that if people ask whether we're engaged, you're going to tell them that nothing's been formalized or announced."


"Fine," he retorted. "But if people ask you why you haven't snagged me yet, when I'm such a wonderful catch-"


"I'll feign a coughing fit and excuse myself to get a drink," she cut in drily. "Are you done yet?"


"Someday, my dear," Draco replied airily as he swept down the hallway, Ginny on his arm, "you'll realize that I'm never done."


"Corking," she replied drily, and they stopped to wait for the house elves to open the doors to the ballroom.


Through the heavy doors floated bits of voices and music, and Draco estimated that there was a full crowd inside, along with a small orchestra. Whether his ploy to announce his engagement worked or failed, there would be a lot of people there to see it. The doors parted, and, standing up straight and holding firmly to Ginny's arm, Draco entered the ballroom.


The conversations around them quieted immediately as everyone turned to see the redhead on Draco's arm. As other people noticed them, voices all over the ballroom began hushing as well, and Draco could see many heads turning to have a look at them. He didn't mind this at all- he loved the attention, and he loved seeing so many of his smug acquaintances looking so shocked.


As though nothing was amiss, he strolled into the crowd to find the Stewarts, so that they could pay their respects to the hosts. As he and Ginny walked, people started up their conversations again, but many people were still watching them. Ignoring their stares, he nodded at those he was friends with and looked nonchalantly around the large room.


The orchestra sat on a raised dais on one end of the room. On the other side was a small room just off the ballroom, in which was a huge table covered with food. The whole place was lit with many large pewter candelabras and a large candle chandelier. Paintings and photographs of the Stewarts at various times during their marriage were clustered near the food room, and the ceiling sparkled with stars similar to those at Hogwarts' Great Hall. The effect was, as everything Elise Stewart did was, simple and tasteful. Draco smiled. He was counting on Elise to show Ginny that some of his people could be sensible and respectable.


He was rethinking his opinion of Elise's sense several moments later, when their procession through the ballroom was stopped by a blur of blue and black that cannonballed into Draco's side. "Draco!" his attacker cried happily, latching onto his free arm. It was Elise, dressed in sparkling sky blue robes, her dark eyes dancing with happiness. Following behind her at a more leisurely pace was Elise's husband, a tall, sandy-haired man with a loping sort of gait. Draco grinned as he saw his old friend James, then looked pointedly down at the exuberant woman still clinging to his arm. James just smiled and shrugged as though to say, "You deal with it."


"Oh, Draco, it's so good to see you again!" Elise was saying happily.


Draco released Ginny's arm and turned to embrace Elise. "It's good to see you, too," he said.


She smiled, then glanced over at Ginny. Immediately her expression changed to one of surprise and embarrassment, and she released Draco quickly. "Oh, dear, I don't mean to be so rude," she said apologetically.


Turning around, she grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him over to where Draco and Ginny were standing. Then she smiled, obviously trying to compose herself to make a good impression on Ginny. "Well, Draco," she said cordially, as though nothing had happened, "aren't you going to introduce us to your charming fiance?"


Draco had to fight back a laugh at Elise's antics. The woman simply had too much energy for her own good. He was about to introduce Ginny when he remembered what she had instructed him to do. Figuring it was best to stay on her good side right then, Draco smiled apologetically. "Actually, what we told your father might have been a little hasty. We haven't entirely . . . formalized it yet. We're still not sure whether or not we're going to announce anything tonight." There, that ought to make the little spitfire happy.


Ginny seemed to have the same thought, because she after glancing up at him, she started talking to Elise and James in what he knew to be her most civil and polite tone of voice, as though to thank him for not telling everyone they were engaged. "We're sorry if you were counting on it tonight," she said, looking at Elise, "but we're both still a little unsure. This is such a big step, and we don't want to go through with it unless we're certain."


"I understand entirely," Elise said, smiling warmly at Ginny. Ginny looked surprised, but then she smiled, and Draco could tell that it was genuine. Then Elise looked back at Draco, raising an eyebrow in feigned indignation. "So, are you going to introduce us or not? I seem to remember asking you to quite some time ago." She looked conspiratorially over at Ginny and shook her head. "I declare, no manners. The way the man acts sometimes, you'd think he was raised by wolves!"


This time Ginny laughed, along with the rest of their small group. It was a nice sound, Draco decided, her laugh. He rather liked it. Unfortunately, when she was around him, her laughter was usually derisive and coupled with statements that were not fit for polite society. He decided he would have to learn to make her laugh like this.


"Elise, James," he said when the laughter ended, "this is Ginny Weasley, my . . . friend. And Ginny, this is Elise and James Stewart, two of my good childhood friends." Elise stepped forward with a smile. Ginny put her hand out, obviously intending to shake, but the other woman didn't seem to notice as she threw her arms around her. After a surprised pause, Ginny hugged her back. Draco grinned. Perhaps Elise would help win Ginny over after all.


. . . . . .


It had been a very strange night, Ginny reflected several hours later. She was standing by the doorway to the room that held the refreshment table, drinking a cup of the delicious punch they were serving. The punch was actually meant for the party's few younger guests, but Ginny thought she'd rather not chance the wine that was being served. The evening was surreal enough already without alcohol- she didn't want to think about what she might do or say if she got sloshed.


Draco was nearby, talking to a co-worker from the Department of International Cooperation. He was a tall, skinny fellow who reminded Ginny very much of her brother Percy, both in appearance and mannerisms. She could tell, from the time she'd spent with Draco, that her supposed fiance was bored stiff, but his companion was either very important or very rich, because Draco kept listening with an expression that, to the untrained eye, would look like interest. She shook her head. He really was a jerk, sometimes.


Taking another sip from her cup, she gazed around the room. The people here had really surprised her. Many of the people she'd met were evil and slimy, as a Slytherin should be, but just as many were good-natured people, the kind of people she would have been friends with. Of course, even some of the nice ones displayed little quirks and mannerisms that came, Ginny supposed, from being waited on, coddled, loved, worshiped, hated and feared so much over the last few centuries. All the same, though, they were many of them decent people. And some of the more arrogant and rude of the guests were, she could tell, good people at heart who simply happened to believe differently than she did. It was rather confusing.


The first people she'd met were James' parents, the Stewarts. After bidding James and Elise farewell- "I'm coming to find you later, all right, Ginny? I want to find out all about you!"- Draco had taken her to pay their respects to the hosts. George and Caroline Stewart were a sweet-natured old couple who reminded Ginny in a strange way of Hermione's parents. George was in his late fifties, Caroline a few years younger, and they seemed very proud of having made it through thirty years of marriage together. They held hands and joked together, and seemed to Ginny to be still very much in love.


"Mr. and Mrs. Stewart," Draco began, "this is-"


Mr. Stewart interrupted. "We've told you a thousand times, Draco, we don't stand on ceremony here. Call us George and Caroline."


Draco smiled. "Well, this is Ginny Weasley, my . . . friend."


Caroline stepped forward and smiled warmly at Ginny. "My dear, we're so glad to meet you."


Ginny found herself liking the woman immediately. With a smile of her own, she stepped forward to shake her hand. "Well, I'm delighted to meet you . . . Caroline," she said sincerely.


George grinned. "You picked that up faster than your young man here," he said, looking over at Draco.


Draco scowled. "Sure, take her side," he said, and both George and Caroline laughed.


The next few minutes were spent in friendly conversation, and Ginny found herself laughing with the Stewarts as though they were old friends. The older couple talked a lot about Draco. Unfortunately, both George and Caroline had nothing but good things to say about him, which wasn't exactly what Ginny wanted to hear. Of course, she reasoned to herself, they had known him since childhood and hence were inclined to exaggerate things in his favor, and to ignore any of the more unsavory aspects of his character.


Finally, Draco took Ginny's arm to indicate they needed to move on. Before they left, Caroline clasped Ginny's hand in her own. "You must come to tea with Elise and me some time."


Ginny hesitated, surprised. I won't be around long enough, she thought, but smiled at Caroline. "We'll have to see," she said.


Caroline beamed. "I'll get your address from Draco, then, shall I? It was absolutely delightful to meet you, dear!"


And then Draco had dragged her off to meet more of his friends. Many of them were just as kind and friendly as the Stewarts. Of course, she suspected that Draco was only introducing her to people who he knew would act that kindly toward her, but she was still pleasantly surprised by the general friendliness of the group.


Draco couldn't control everyone that she met, though. A number of people had come up to introduce themselves on their own- Ginny suspected they did this more out of morbid curiosity than politeness- and many of these were exactly what she'd expected Draco's friends to be.


Several, in Ginny's opinion, should have been in jail; they were Death Eaters that had managed, in one way or another, to wiggle out of trouble at the end of the war. Several were old, shriveled men with wicked grins and scars so strange that even Ginny, as a trained Medi-witch, couldn't have guessed where they came from. Some were men with voices as oily as their hair, who reminded her a great deal of Professor Snape. But most were simply rich couples in silk and furs and dragon skin, who looked at her in a kind of disgusted curiosity, as though she were some strange insect that wandered into the ballroom and they were wondering why no one had squashed her yet. But all of these people had two things in common: they all looked at her condescendingly, and they all made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.


The two people she didn't run in to, both of whom she'd been expecting some kind of confrontation with, were Severus Snape and Ian Zabini. She saw Zabini across the room a few times, but he staunchly avoided her gaze. Severus simply didn't show up, though she assumed he'd been invited. She was fairly sure Draco had spoken to both of them. That was quite a thought: Draco had been manipulating and bossing two men far older than him, all for her.


Ginny sighed into her punch cup as she took yet another drink from it. Although she could not presently decide what her final opinion of the party was, she was sure of one thing: it had been a very trying night, and she would be very glad to go home.


Draco was no longer in her sight, but that wasn't surprising because she was presently in the small room that held the food table, and portions of the ballroom were hidden from her sight by the wall between the two rooms. As she glanced around, she noticed chairs set up near the door, and she sank into one gratefully. She had been standing for quite some time now, and getting off her feet was pure bliss.


As she sank back further into the chair, she was suddenly surprised to hear her name said around the corner. She felt it was improper to eavesdrop, but her curiosity was too strong, and Ginny found herself holding her breath and waiting for the voice to speak again.


"I mean, it's really an embarrassment, bringing that pauper here. What could Draco be thinking? Honestly, if I were the Stewarts, I would be so mortified to have that Muggle lover here!" The voice was female.


"I don't know," came another female voice. "My brother met her, and he said she's very nice."


"It's an act," replied the first voice. "You can take the peasant out of the gutter-"


"But you'll probably get punched for your troubles," a low voice suddenly cut in, right in Ginny's ear, and she nearly jumped out of her chair. Spinning around, she saw Draco next to her, grinning. "Eavesdropping?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "How Slytherin." He offered his hand to her to help her up. "Come on. Elise has been asking for you."


Still blushing from being caught, Ginny took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He threaded the hand he was holding through his arm, then led her out of the room. As they passed into the ballroom, both Ginny and Draco looked over to see who they'd been overhearing, and Ginny was shocked to see a rather portly and somewhat familiar looking young woman glaring venomously at her.


"Pansy," Draco said with a smile that was deliberately false, "fancy meeting you here. You look . . . well kept."


"Draco," Pansy Parkinson replied snidely, though somewhat unsteadily, and Ginny could see that she was in the early stages of intoxication. "Fancy you bringing your pauper girlfriend here. What, do you enjoy slumming so much that you decided to bring part of the slum home?"


"Goodbye, Pansy," Draco said, then nodded to the other girl. "Calliope," he said by way of greeting, then swept Ginny away. Hurrying to keep up with him, Ginny wondered if his abrupt exit was because they'd been insulting her, or if he was simply sick of talking to Pansy. She wouldn't blame him if it was the latter. Pansy was everything Draco had said she was, and she could see why he wouldn't want to marry her. Without thinking, she said as much to him.


Draco shrugged noncommittally. "She's not terrible when she's not drunk. She's one of my few school friends who are still around." At this his face became very quiet, and Ginny remembered that Draco had lost most of his friends from school in the war. Goyle and Nott had both been killed while fighting for Voldemort. Crabbe was in jail, a convicted Death Eater. And Elise's younger brother Blaise Zabini, who had never joined Voldemort, had been seriously injured in an attack on Diagon Alley by the Death Eaters, and was still in a special medical clinic in Spain.


Without thinking, Ginny reached over with her free arm to lay a comforting hand on his arm. He looked at her with one contemptuous eyebrow raised, and she suddenly realized what she was doing. To pull her hand away, though, would mean that she found him intimidating, so she kept it there, looking defiantly at him and pretending she'd meant to have her hand there all along. After a moment of looking at her, Draco shrugged again, rolling his eyes, and continued to lead her across the floor.


They found Elise and James standing near the main doors of the ballroom. After exchanging greetings- and hugs, in Elise's case- James asked Ginny how she was enjoying the party. It took several moments of consideration before Ginny felt confident about answering this. "It's been . . . different than I expected," she answered. "But I've enjoyed myself. I've met a lot of nice people, and the music and food is all wonderful."


Elise beamed like a child at this, and Ginny felt, at that moment, that the dark-haired woman was someone she wanted to be friends with. So she smiled and said, "It really looks lovely in here. You did a brilliant job arranging this, Elise." If it was possible, Elise's smile grew even larger.


At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by noises out in the front hall. They could hear house elves shouting, mixed with loud footsteps and laughter. Ginny stiffened. Whoever it was that was laughing was obviously very drunk, and she wondered what they were doing at such a high brow affair.


The doors were suddenly thrown open, and Ginny found herself facing, to her great embarrassment, a small group of people she recognized all too well, all very drunk, all yelling loudly, and apparently intent on crashing the party. She recognized them because a few of them had been in her house at Hogwarts, though they were all five and six years older than her. She could only imagine what all of her detractors in the room were thinking just then: And these people pretend to be so noble. And then they wonder why we dislike them!


The leader of the group was Richard Moore. Ginny knew him because he'd been in Percy's year, and Percy had constantly complained about how often he'd had to reprimand him for his behavior. She hoped desperately he didn't notice her and single her out, further embarrassing her in front of all of these people. To hide her face from him, she turned and began looking around the room. Several large wizards were storming to the front doors to throw the intruders out. George and Caroline had come forward to see what the disturbance was, and Caroline looked shocked and upset. Ginny felt, if possible, even worse than she had.


At that moment, she heard an unsteady voice behind her. "Ginny. Ginny Weasley, is that you?"


She turned around slowly to face Richard, who was swaying slowly on his feet in front of her. "Yes, Richard," she said, hoping her cold tone of voice would clue him in to how angry she was, "it's me."


The drunk man's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise. Before she could reply, he turned to Draco, his bleary eyes suddenly focused very hard on the blonde man. "What did you do?" he demanded angrily, his voice becoming more slurred. "Did you bring her to this scummy party without her knowledge?"


Draco rolled his eyes. "Go home and sleep if off," he said dismissively.


Richard would not be so easily brushed off. "I've going to take her with me," he said, his words jumbling together. "If the Weasleys were here, they'd do the same for me."


Draco just sighed. "Don't make me pull a wand on you," he said boredly.


Richard was too busy rolling up his sleeves to hear. "Someone's got to put you in your place," he said, and Ginny began to fear that he really was going to start a fist fight. Unable to bear the thought of the Stewart's party being ruined that way, she stepped it front of Draco and glared at Richard.


Forcing herself to calm down, she told him firmly, "Thank you for your concern, Richard, but I came by choice with Mr. Malfoy to this lovely party, held by some of the loveliest people I've ever met. Please leave before you embarrass yourself further."


Richard blinked at her a few times, then nodded thoughtfully as though he'd known she was there by choice all along. A large wizard in dress robes grabbed his arm, and the drunk man stumbled out the door to where the rest of his friends had been rounded up. The house elves pulled the door closed, and Ginny found herself sighing in relief.


Many people were now looking at Ginny, and as she turned her face away from their gazes, she found Draco, Elise and James all staring at her, Elise looking shocked. Ginny smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm . . . I'm so embarrassed to even know those people."


Elise just smiled. "Thank you for telling him off, though," she said.


Draco leaned over and murmured in her ear, "So, the noble Gryffindors attack the evil Slytherins at their wedding anniversary. Is this the way it goes?"


Ginny turned angrily toward him. "Stow it, Draco," she said sharply, and to her surprise, he did.


It was nearly ten minutes before the party started back up full swing. Ginny spent most of that time staunchly avoided the gazes of everyone around her. She very glad that the party was almost over. All that was left was the toasts, which were beginning just then.


Toasts. Announcement. Her engagement! Ginny looked up quickly. What was she going to do? She had to decide right then what her answer was. I mean, she corrected herself, of course the answer is no, but . . .


But as she stood there thinking, with the toasts going on around her, she couldn't help but remember the exact deal she'd made with Draco: 'And at the end of the evening, if you still absolutely hate me, I'll tell everyone that we decided mutually to call it off.' At that moment, she could not honestly say that she absolutely hated Draco. He had proven himself to be a clever, funny, and occasionally good-natured, although often obnoxious and smug, companion. But I'm still going to say no, of course, she thought. Because even if she didn't absolutely hate him, that didn't mean she loved him, and she was still holding out for that childhood dream of the happily ever after and that one person she would love for the rest of her life.


As she mechanically echoed the final toast, she realized that Elise was looking significantly at her, asking if there was to be an announcement from her and Draco. She looked over into the grey eyes of her companion. "So," he asked, "do you still hate me?"


She opened her mouth to answer, but it wouldn't come. Her head was spinning, and instead of answering him she found herself saying desperately, "I need some fresh air." Picking up her skirts with one hand, she turned and pushed one of the heavy doors open, and with one glance back, she disappeared into the front hallway, leaving a bewildered Draco behind her.


. . . . . .

. . . . . .

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promis'd joy.

- Robert Burns

. . . . . .

As the doors shut behind Ginny, Elise looked over at Draco, her eyes filled with concern. "Is something the matter with her?" she asked worriedly. "Did we upset her?"

Draco shook his head, arranging his face into a serious expression. "No," he said somberly. "She's just a bit stressed out. You know, she works a lot, and then coming here . . . parties this large can be overwhelming if you're not used to them." Elise nodded in understanding, and Draco smiled apologetically at her. "I'm going to go talk to her," he said, and headed out into the hall, his face still carefully serious.

Inside, though, he was celebrating. Ginny had been planning to refuse him all evening, but when it came to it, she'd panicked and fled, meaning her resolve was weakening. If he kept at it, he might just be able to convince her to marry him, after all.

He found her outside, standing at the top of the front stairs, gazing out at the stars. "Something they didn't teach us at Hogwarts," he said, and she jumped in surprise, "is that not everything falls neatly into the categories of 'the forces of darkness' and 'Saint Potter's brigade.'" She glared at him, and he shrugged and walked up to her side, looking out over the Stewart's park at the stars above.

"So," he said, his voice deceptively uninterested, "you're suddenly not sure that you want to break this engagement."

"Of course I do!" she retorted quickly. "I was just . . . I was just surprised."

Draco smiled. "So, Ginny," he began, but stopped when the door opened and several guests walked through. Not wanting to be interrupted, he looked around quickly, then grabbed Ginny's hand. "Come here," he said, and grabbed her hand to drag her down the stairs and around the side of the house, where a recession on the second floor formed a sort of balcony, on which the Stewarts had placed several statues. Ginny resisted very little. "James and I used to sit up here and talk when I came over to visit," Draco explained as he released her hand and pulled himself up onto a window sill. "No one will bother us here."

Clambering the rest of the way up, he turned back to look at Ginny. In the darkness she was little more than a black shape on the ground, but he felt sure that if he could see her, she would be glaring up at him with her hands on her hips. "Come up!" he called.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked, and began to walk away. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and levitated Ginny into the air. She let out a surprised squeak, but did not say anything until she was safely on the roof, at which point she snatched Draco's wand out of his hand and dropped it over the edge of the roof. It seemed half-hearted, though.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Very mature, Weasel," he said snidely. "Now give it back."

She glared at him, but turned and point her wand toward the ground. "Accio wand," she said, and he thought she sounded rather put out.

Once he had his wand back, he seated himself on the roof and looked up at her expectantly. "Well?" he asked. "Talk to me, Weasel." She glared at him, then sighed and dropped onto a window ledge, covered her face with her hands, and sat in silence. Draco, watching her, found himself fascinated by the moonlight sparkling on the diamonds in the ring he'd given her.

Finally, she spoke. "Your friends are really nice, Draco," she said quietly, dropping her hands.

"And?" he prompted.

"And . . . they're not what I expected them to be. And . . . now I'm just confused. Not about marrying you, because I still don't want to, but because . . . I never saw it from the other side. I spent my whole life convinced I was right and now . . . now I just don't know."

"My friends aside," he said, turning to face her, "how do you feel about the rest of our deal? I mean, about getting to know me better. How do you feel about me?"

She looked at him a moment, then turned away. "You're also not what I expected you to be." He smiled until she added, "But I still refuse to marry you."

"Why?" he demanded. "What's not to like? You'll get to live in the Manor, you'll eat and dress far better than you do now, you can still work at that hospital of yours, and . . . I promise to be nice, and . . ." He thought a long moment. "And I'll guarantee you fifty thousand galleons after the divorce."

By wizarding law, divorcing witches rarely got very much money, so Draco thought the sum he'd promised her would impress her She didn't even look fazed. "It's not about the money, Malfoy," she said bitingly. "It's about marriage. It's about me taking your name and living under your roof and eating off your table and you becoming the most prominent person in my life. Marriage affects you for life, Malfoy. Even if it ended later, for the rest of my life, 'the former Mrs. Draco Malfoy' would a part of how people see me, of who I am. That's not something that you rush into lightly."

"Who cares how people think of you?" Draco asked unconcernedly. "And I really think you're overdramatizing it. It's just marriage."

"You have some strange ideas about what marriage amounts to, boy," Ginny said in disgust.

"Why shouldn't I?" Draco asked with a shrug. "Have you looked around recently? You're living in a dream world. Marriage never lasts. It doesn't make people happy. Marriage didn't save my parents." At this Ginny looked at him strangely, but he pressed on. "Nobody takes it seriously anymore. Divorce is a fact of life."

"Yes, but deciding it's necessary in the middle of a marriage is rather different than knowing you're going to divorce before the wedding even starts," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Draco, as charming and romantic as your views on marriage are, I think differently than you. I want . . . when I get married, I want it to be because I've found someone I can't live without. I want it to be someone that I will stand beside for all our lives. Didn't you see the Stewarts in there? Don't you want a relationship like that? To be still so in love after thirty years?"

Draco shrugged. "The Stewarts are different. I've always thought they were a little crazy, the way they are with each other."

"Well, then," replied Ginny softly, "I want to be crazy."

"Can't you start being crazy in a year and half?" Draco demanded. "That's all I ask. As soon as I'm twenty-five, you can take off and find your crazy, old-fashioned, hopelessly romantic knight. Just help me out a little until then."

"Wouldn't it bother you to be with someone you didn't love?"

"I don't think love's nearly as great as you make it out to be."

"I don't believe that," Ginny replied. "I don't want to waste two years of my life with someone I couldn't love."

Something about that stung him. He looked up at her face, shadowed in the darkness. "You couldn't love me, Virginia?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but then she hesitated, perhaps regretting her hasty words. "Draco-" Then she stopped. He could see her open her mouth, looking for words that weren't coming, then close it again.

"What?" he asked finally. She seemed to be trying to come up with something to defuse the situation, but she finally spoke, all she said was, "Ginevra."

"Ginevra?" he replied. She shook her head. "That's my name. Look, Draco, it's late. I've got to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow, all right?" Then she Apparated, leaving Draco alone in the darkness.

. . . . . .

Work the next day went by very slowly for Ginny. Glennis of course pressed her about her hasty departure the day before, and Ginny, not wanting to lie to her friend, tried to evade her questions. Her mind kept wandering back to Draco's offer- living in a castle, all her needs taken care of, and fifty thousand Galleons at the end? But she couldn't possibly say yes. How could she live with knowing that she'd given into the demands of Draco Malfoy, evil ferret extraordinaire, simply because he'd offered her ease and comfort and wealth? She couldn't.

And yet, during her lunch break, when she'd planned on going to the Ministry's law offices to see about what could be done, she found herself instead eating very slowly down in the break room, unable to make herself move. What was wrong with her?

But she knew what was wrong with her, somewhere inside. She was unsure of herself, of her denial, of everything. Oath aside, she knew that there were people who would consider her crazy for not accepting Draco's offer, since she had no prospects of marriage or even dating in sight, and hence had nothing to stay single for. And maybe they were right. Maybe, as Draco had said, marriage was just marriage.

And that was the other thing she was unsure about. Maybe Draco was right, and her views on marriage were as old-fashioned as the rules of chivalry that held her bound to him. She was, she admitted, an old-fashioned girl. Maybe her hopelessly romantic sensibilities were horribly, embarrassingly outdated. Maybe expecting to find a man she was so certain about was a hopeless cause, and she ought to take what happiness she could when she could get it. She'd be comfortable, and Draco wasn't that terrible, when it came down to it. Maybe she ought to accept him.

At the stroke of five o' clock, a small group of people burst onto Ginny's floor. She looked up from where she was gathering her things. "Ron, Hermione, Harry . . . what are you doing here? I was just about to leave . . ."

"We need to talk," Ron said forcefully.

Hermione put a hand on his arm to quiet him. "Ginny, we want you to come to the Burrow with us. Your mum made us a nice dinner, and we can all sit and talk."

Ginny looked between the Trio's faces for a moment, then hid a sigh. Apparently they all knew. They were smiling, but there was a kind of grim determination behind Ron's eyes that told her everything. This was definitely not part of the plan. She was a little afraid to see what Ron would intend to do. Perhaps it came from growing up with so many brothers, but Ron tended to think the best way to solve things was with force. Forcing an innocent smile, Ginny gathered her things and followed them out the door.

Back at the Burrow, they'd barely sat down at the kitchen table before Ron burst out talking, apparently trying to casually bring the conversation around to his real question. "So, did you do anything fun last night?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing too exciting."

"Really," Ron scoffed, slamming his fork back down on his table.

Hermione, obviously sensing that things were not going anywhere, leaned forward. "Let's get right to the point. Ginny, your brother wanted to bring you here because we heard something from one of our co-workers."

"Richard Moore, right?" Ginny asked with a sigh. "Yes, I saw him last night. He was dead sloshed and had to be carried away."

"Yeah," Ron said, "but what we're worried about is where he saw you. Ginny, he said he saw you at a party full of Death Eaters." He was leaning forward, his ears quickly turning a dangerous shade of pink.

"Ron, Voldemort's dead. There are no Death Eaters anymore," Ginny sighed.

"I know," Hermione said. "But that's not the point. The point is, Richard said he saw you with Draco Malfoy, and these boys are wondering if your being there had something to do with him."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, defensively and awkwardly, unable to lie well to her friends. She leaned back a little and thanked her lucky stars that the chain she was wearing was still hidden under her robes. She wasn't sure why she she'd decided to wear Draco's ring on a chain around her neck, but what she was sure of was that Ron would not be happy to see it. "Why do you think I would go anywhere with him?"

"Exactly!" Ron said, hitting the table. "So he brought you there against his will, didn't he? I knew it! Harry, get your wand. We need to go pay Mr. Malfoy a visit."

"No!" Ginny shouted without knowing why. She leaned across the table to grab Ron's arm, and as she leaned the ring tumbled out from under her robes. She froze.

Ron didn't notice it at all, as was his way, but Harry, sitting next to her, did. "Ginny?" he asked slowly, addressing her for the first time that evening. "What is that?"

"It's a ring," Ginny said, sitting back in her chair. She went to tuck the ring back under her work robes, but Harry grabbed it first to examine it. "Ginny," he said in surprise, "this is a wedding ring."

"No, it's just . . . it was a gift from someone. I didn't want to lose it. Okay?" She grabbed it from Harry and stuffed it into her robes. "And leave Draco alone. I went to the party with him of my own volition. And . . . and the ring is a gift from him, for helping him with a difficult situation, which I don't really think is your business." There, that was mostly true.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I know that's an engagement band. I saw it in a window in Diagon Alley this week."

"Why were you looking at wedding rings?" Ron asked her, and her face flamed red.

Harry grabbed Ginny's hand. "Did Draco give you a wedding ring?" he asked her in disbelief. "Draco Malfoy?"

"No," Ginny said, wishing she'd never mentioned he'd given her the ring at all. "Look, you're all making this into something far bigger than it is. I mean, you drag me over here to accuse me of all sorts of things, and all you have is the word of a drunk. How do you think that makes me feel, Ron?" She hoped the poor little sister card would convince him to drop the subject. Guilt always did work wonders on Ron.

"But you were at the party, right?" Harry asked. "Draco Malfoy dragged you there and proposed to you?"

"No, Harry, you've got it all wrong. I was at a party last night, just a regular party, and there were no Death Eaters there, because the war is over and there are no Death Eaters. And Draco Malfoy, of all people, certainly did not propose to me at that party." No, the proposal came that afternoon, she thought, a little hysterically.

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron and Harry were still eyeing her warily. "I'm not really sure I buy that story, Ginny," Ron said. He observed her a few moments while she tried to look as trustworthy as possible. "Right, then," he said finally. "I'll believe you. On one condition," he added before she could speak. "I want you to take Veritaserum."

"What?" Hermione and Ginny demanded at the same time. "Ron, I'm your sister, not a common criminal!" Ginny shrieked.

Hermione was looking between Harry and Ron with fire in her eyes. "Are you joking?" she cried. "You would make Ginny, who we've all known for years, take a truth potion? Ron, that is inexcusably rude. I can't believe you'd suggest it."

Ron looked taken aback that Hermione had taken Ginny's side in this, and Ginny hid a relieved smile. Ron almost never crossed Hermione, especially when she felt so strongly about something. After a few moments, though, he frowned. "But why won't you take it, unless you have something to hide? Wait, Malfoy hasn't bewitched you, has he?" He peered closely at her, as though somehow he'd be able to see any enchantments on her.

Ginny quickly jerked away from him. "Wow, you guys, you're getting a little carried away, don't you think?"

"He did do something, didn't he?" Harry demanded.

"That slimy, dark, Death Eater trash!" Ron growled. "I'll knock that smug smirk off his face."

"That seems a little harsh," Hermione said, trying to be fair. "I mean, he never was a Death Eater, was he? He did join the Order, after all."

Ron, worked up and angry, turned on Hermione then. "Whose side are you on, Hermione? I can't believe you'd stick up for him. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here."

"Ron!" Ginny broke in, shocked, looking at Hermione's hurt face. Ron hadn't spoken that harshly to her in a long time, Ginny knew, and her heart ached for her friend, who still hadn't worked up the courage to tell Ron that she loved him. She glared at Ron. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"What's wrong with you?" he shot back. "Why won't you tell us what really happened, so I can do something about it? I'm your brother! That's what I'm supposed to do!"

"Oh, come off it!" Ginny said, truly annoyed. "How do you know I didn't propose to Draco myself?"

That shut everyone up. Ginny stared around at them with wide eyes. She certainly hadn't intended to say that. But, a hysterical little voice in her mind said, it has the added bonus of being absolutely true! Well, it was certainly too late to take it back. She had to say something, quick, while she still had their attention.

Ginny quickly thought through her options. If Ron chose to perform a spell to see if she had any lingering enchantments, he would pick up on the wizard oath, which would cause a lot of difficult questions. And if she did take the Veritaserum- and she felt that Ron would get the whole family in on it, and they would somehow trick or coerce her into it eventually- they would all find out how Draco was forcing her into this engagement. And if they did find out, the very least that she could expect was that they would insist on taking legal action against him, and it would turn into the messy affair and public scandal she'd wanted so much to avoid. It was far more likely, however, that Ron, ever the hothead, would try to take revenge in far more personal and physical fashion, one that would end up with one or both of them hurt and probably in trouble with the Ministry, as they were both employees. She didn't want Ron hurt or in trouble, and, she found as she pondered it, she didn't want Draco to be, either.

The thing to do, then, was to lose a small battle in order to win the war- to distract them from the big picture, to strategically release information. "Look," she said, and found she didn't have to feign the irritation she wanted to show, "yes, I went to the party with Draco. It was his friend's parents' wedding anniversary. We ate hors d'oeuvres and drank punch and talked to people. I was home by eleven. Is that a crime?" That little admission, she hoped, would distract them from the whole engagement ring subject.

And it seemed to work. "Why on earth would you go to a party with him?" Ron demanded.

Ginny gestured exasperatedly. "I was talking to him, an old friend called and invited him to the party, and he invited me. I had no plans for the evening. I said yes."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You thought Draco Malfoy would be a pleasant date?"

Ginny shrugged. "Why on earth not? He's well-bred, well-educated. He's really funny, and he can be nice when he puts his mind to it."

She'd hoped she was done, but apparently Harry had to speak up. "Since when have you been friends with him?"

Again, she found it best to sidestep the question by bringing up another subject. "Apparently this is going to shock you, Harry, but I have a life that I run all by myself. I'm sorry I don't inform you of every aspect of my existence. Maybe you'd like a weekly progress report?"

Harry looked abashed, and Ginny saw the perfect opportunity for her escape. She dropped her head into her hands. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I don't mean to snap at you. I just get frustrated when I'm being interrogated and distrusted by my friends. I haven't done anything wrong. Okay, I went to a party with Draco Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I'm about to move to Romania to study the Dark Arts. It was just a party, all right?"

She stood to leave. Neither Harry nor Hermione moved to stop her, apparently convinced by her words. Ron, however, had one last thing to say. "Then what about the ring?" He seemed far less intense about the whole affair than he had been earlier.

"I told you," she said. "It was a gift. I did not accept it from Draco as an agreement to marry him. So everything's fine, see? Your Richard Moore got you upset about nothing." She smiled lopsidedly at her brother. "I'm a big girl now, Ron. You've got to learn to trust me." Pulling her wand out in preparation to Apparate, she smiled around at the Trio. "I'll see you all on Sunday, right?" And then she was gone.

When she appeared got back to her apartment, she dropped her head with a sigh and began to massage her temples. "None of that was exactly a lie, was it?" she asked the fairy painting on her wall. The fairy didn't answer. Ginny didn't blame her.

Ginny tossed and turned until nearly midnight that night. Part of it was because of her guilt, part because of her uncertainty, but a lot of it was because of the neighbors upstairs. I hate apartment buildings, she thought for what was not the first time. Various charms could block the noise, but she hadn't discovered anything yet that would solve the vibrations she could feel from the pounding bass of the music they always played. And they were always having parties, and her lights would shake from the dancing upstairs. Someday, she told herself, also for what was not the first time, I will own my own house. Medi-witches, unfortunately, were not paid nearly what they ought to be, in her opinion, and with the wizarding economy being what it was, she would not be able to afford any house, even a small one, until she was promoted to Full Medi-witch. Unfortunately, things being as they were, she couldn't expect that for another five or six years.

Which led, of course, back to Draco. He had offered her a house- a castle!- and she was sure he didn't make a lot of noise. And the fifty thousand galleons he'd promised her would certainly come in handy. She wasn't quite poor, but she definitely wasn't rich, either. It was a generous offer- more than most witches got after a divorce, she knew. With fifty thousand galleons, and the money she would save on rent and food while she was living with Draco, she could definitely afford something nicer after the divorce.

Another thing her mind kept coming back to was Draco himself. She hadn't been lying to Hermione about that- Draco was smart and funny and occasionally nice. Conversation always flowed easily around him, though that conversation often consisted of them arguing. In truth, she had always gotten on with him better than any of the rest of the Order had been able to.

And her family would get over it, eventually. Ron would have the worst time with it, or possibly Harry, but she knew the rest would not be upset over it for long. Her father had hated Lucius, but he was a strong believer in not blaming children for the mistakes of the parents. And her mother would be so happy to have her baby girl married that she would soon get over her disappointment that it wasn't to Harry. Bill and Charlie knew Draco only as the somewhat obnoxious young man from the Order, and they would forgive obnoxiousness. Percy never came home anyway. And Fred and George- she smiled at the thought. She knew that they would be more understanding than anyone else.

Ginny's brow furrowed as she stared out the window. Was she seriously considering marrying Draco? She stared hard at the moon outside, as though hoping it would give her guidance. Then her eyes narrowed as a black shape passed in front of it. It was an owl, who landed at her window and tapped impatiently with its beak. It was a large, stately bird, and she wondered, with a sudden catch of her breath, if it was from Draco. What would he say to her after what she'd said to him the last time they'd spoken? She hadn't meant to imply that he was somehow unlovable. She just meant . . .

Her train of thought trailed off, and she frowned a little as she got near enough to the bird to see it was Hedwig. With a sigh Ginny pulled the note off her leg and patted her head absent-mindedly. The owl settled onto her desk, waiting to deliver a reply, while Ginny sunk into a chair and opened the note.

Dear Ginny,

I'm sorry that things happened the way they did today. We never meant to question your actions or meddle in your life.

She smiled a little. Harry really was a good man. She continued reading.

However, I have to admit, I don't understand why you've been spending time with him. I know you think well of him, and I want to trust your judgment, but I can't help being afraid that you don't really understand him or the situation-

Ginny didn't read the rest of the note, because she was too busy crumpling it up and throwing it away. Apparently Harry was also as stupid as anyone else. She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose.

Hedwig hooted softly, as though in question, and Ginny looked up at the white owl, feeling very suddenly incredibly frustrated. "I'm just so sick of having everyone stick their noses in every corner of my life," she said in response. "I mean, I'm an adult! I have a job and my own apartment, I pay all my own bills; I think I've shown I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. But no, everyone still treats me like little silly Ginny. Even if this relationship is a sham, I wish they'd respect me enough to trust my decision to be in it." She paused. "Even though I didn't really decide to be in it," she added, and Hedwig hooted in agreement.

All of the thoughts and confusion that had been swirling through her mind the past day suddenly seemed to fit into place then, and she frowned. "That's it. I'm leaving. Hedwig, I'm afraid I don't have anything for you to take to Harry." She grabbed her purse off her table, then rifled through her desk until she found the copy of her Ministry-issued birth certificate. Picking up a chocolate bar, she fed a bit to the white owl who was still observing her through inscrutable eyes. "You're a good listener, Hedwig. I'll send you a postcard after I'm married, all right?"

Shooing the owl outside, she shut and locked the window tight, then went to get dressed. It was her wedding, after all, and she wanted to look nice.

Half an hour later, she was pounding at the door of Malfoy Manor. As she'd expected, the house elves were apparently not yet asleep, as a very alert and well-pressed one answered her knock. "I'm here for Draco," she said. "If he's asleep, wake him up." She paused a moment. "Please." Just because I'm going to be a Malfoy doesn't mean I have to be rude like one, she thought. The elf looked shocked, but bowed deeply and scurried away.

She had only been waiting in the lobby a few minutes when Draco appeared at the top of one of the staircases. His tie was undone and his hair was a bit messy, but she was fairly sure he hadn't gone to bed yet. The way he was looking at her was definitely a step back from the friendliness, or at least familiarity, that they'd acquired over the last few days, but she supposed that was to be expected. She had been a bit rude to him the last time they'd met.

He walked slowly down the stairs toward her, his gray eyes taking in her black Muggle dress. "Were I a more nosy person," he said a rather biting voice, "I might ask what you're doing in my house at midnight, wearing that Muggle thing."

She brushed the tone and words off, having learned over the past few days that his speaking that way didn't necessarily mean he was angry. "Look, Draco, do you still want to get married?"

There was silence for a long moment as Draco looked at Ginny in surprise, and she congratulated herself on unnerving the unflappable Lord Malfoy. Then he recovered. "What, you finally realized that it's the best offer a Weasley could hope to receive?" He smiled a bit ferally. "Then I suppose the answer is yes. It's still the best solution to my current situation."

"Here's the deal, then," she said seriously. Draco's eyes widened at her words, but he said nothing. "First, you sign an agreement that says I get fifty thousand galleons when this is all over. Second, I get to continue working at St. Mungo's, and all the money I make there is mine and you never hear of it. Third, you have to be nice to my family and friends- and especially Harry- the whole time. Fourth, you never try to touch me. We don't even sleep in the same room. I'm still your wife, though, and I get all the privileges wives usually do. I get free run of the house, use of everything in and at the manor, and authority over the servants, including the right to free house elves, and I receive spending money whenever I ask for it." She stopped and pondered a moment. "Within reason," she added, feeling it very generous of her to do so. "And also-" here she paused- "I know this is probably stupid, but I'd like it if people didn't know the circumstances surrounding this whole messy business. I'd like you not to tell people about the oath and the money and all. I'd like to have some shred of dignity through all this.

"And in return, I will marry you and play the dutiful and loving wife whenever we are around other people, and I will never tell anyone that you married me because you might lose your money and you thought that being poor was even worse than being married to a Weasley." Draco raised an eyebrow at this, but Ginny ignored him and pushed on. "There's one more thing. We have to elope tonight."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Anxious, my little poppet?" he asked, smirking, as he slowly advanced on her. "What about all that separate bedroom stuff? Were you just playing hard to get?"

"Oh, there's another thing I forgot to mention," Ginny smiled. "No being foul." She pushed him away lightly, and he moved back a few steps, looking smug. "I want to elope tonight, because if we wait and try to plan something I'll have to endure months of anguish from my family, and I don't really want to." She frowned. "Besides, I feel bad having people come to a wedding and buy gifts for what's really just a sham of a marriage."

Draco looked at her a long moment, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. After a few moments, he smiled. "Deal," he said, putting out his hand to shake.

She looked at him seriously. "Are you sure? I'm going to ask you to swear on it, and then it will be a wizard's oath, and we happen to have personal experience with how difficult those can be."

This time Draco thought about it longer before nodding. Then he looked straight at Ginny and proclaimed, "I swear."

A silent breeze blew around them, and Ginny nodded as though satisfied. "So, you know anywhere that will be open this late?" she asked.

"Hold on," Draco said. "Even if we're eloping, I'm going to find you some nicer robes than that; we'll go look through my mother's closet." He turned and began climbing the staircases. "Follow me, Mrs. Malfoy," he said wickedly, and Ginny, following after him, found herself hoping desperately she hadn't just made the worst mistake of her life.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. - Jane Austen

. . . . . .

It had been a very odd few days, Draco reflected at breakfast the next morning. Just two mornings earlier, he had been a dashing, carefree bachelor. Now, forty-eight hours and one wedding later, he was a married man, sitting down for his first meal with his new wife. She was presently at the other end of the table, waiting in silence for breakfast to be served.

He thought it odd that a married couple should sit at either end of a table, but that was how his own parents had sat every day of their married lives, so he assumed that was the way it was done. And she hadn't complained about the setup. But then, maybe she just didn't want to sit near him. That was possible, considering their history together.

The meal passed in silence, neither party sure of how to make conversation. Draco found himself wondering if that was the way their entire marriage was going to go. He assured himself, however, that at some point the awkwardness would pass, and his house would stop feeling like a tomb. It was ridiculous, he knew, to feel so ill at ease. A man's home was his castle- literally, in his case- and he refused to feel like a stranger in it. It would pass. It was simply the strangeness of their situation.

And strange it indeed had been. They'd been married the night before at Gretna Green by an old business acquaintance of the Malfoy family, who'd been willing to perform the ceremony with a minimum of questions or bother. Ginny was wearing blue robes she'd chosen out of Mrs. Malfoy's closet. Draco had initially preferred a white dress they'd found, until Ginny had tried it on. Although she'd looked quite nice in it, seeing her in white had suddenly made him very uncomfortable, so he'd encouraged her to wear the blue one instead.

It was two-thirty by the time they got back to Malfoy Manor, and both were exhausted from their late night. Ginny had thought to bring some things from home, so she slept that night in the guest room on the second floor after bidding him a half-hearted good night. Draco felt somewhat disappointed by this. He hadn't expected anything to happen- she had made it quite clear that their relationship would not be physical- but still, a late-night wedding and an emotionless good night seemed not to be enough. He wasn't a hopeless romantic like Ginny, with her high fantastical hopes for the perfect marriage, but he still felt somewhat cheated. She could at least have told him to sleep well as though she meant it.

The morning had dawned too bright and too early, and Draco had awoken feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He'd dressed quickly and sharply, the way he always did; even though he was usually alone at the Manor, he never left his room in any state of undress. As he was fixing his hair in the spacious master bedroom suite's bathroom, he suddenly had wondered if Ginny had brought anything to wear. Should he ask her? Should he offer her something else out of his mother's closet?

When he got down to breakfast, though, she was already dressed, and so had obviously brought clothes. They exchanged curt greetings. The questions he'd been going to ask died on his tongue, and after that neither one spoke.

Draco had already owled work to say he would not be coming in that day; he never skipped work, but he figured that he was entitled on the day after he was married. As the elves cleared the dishes away, he finally spoke to Ginny. "I was thinking," he said carefully, "that perhaps you could take today off work, to stay home and get things settled here." The words felt funny in his mouth. Stay home. Her home. His home. Their home.

From the look on her face, he guessed that similar thoughts were passing through her mind, but she simply gave him what was probably her attempt at a natural smile and replied, "I already did."

He returned the tight smile and stood from his chair. "Well," he asked, "shall we go get you moved out of your apartment?"

Ginny's apartment- Ginny's old apartment- sat on a small side street situated near both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's. The location was great, but the building itself was a dark, dingy place, which Draco was fairly sure was kept standing with magic. He had plenty of time to study the interior of the bottom floor while Ginny talked to the manager about ending her contract. The place was definitely no where that a Malfoy would ever deign to live. Although, he told himself, apparently one had- but then, she had only married into the family.

As Ginny unlocked the door to her apartment, Draco smiled weakly at her. "It's nice," he said, looking around at the scuffed floors and cheap wood paneling.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny retorted immediately, using a normal tone for the first time that day. "This place is a hole!"

After that conversation flowed much easier. Draco and Ginny spent the entire morning packing up the contents- the pitifully few contents, in Draco's opinion- of her apartment. With their magic, it shouldn't have taken that long, but Ginny had to stop every few minutes and exclaim over some knickknack or photograph she found. Hating to be kept out of the loop, Draco would ask her what was going on every time this happened, and she would explain it to him, usually breaking into a long story during which they would both sit on trunks to talk.

He found out a lot about her this way: that she liked roses and living in the country, that she loved growing up in a big family and wanted at least as many children as her parents had, that she feared nothing in the world except being betrayed by those she loved, the way Tom Riddle's diary had used and betrayed her. When she spoke of this she became very quiet, and Draco, watching her closely, saw her frown as though in pain.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I just realized," she said, "I'd hate to be hurt by those I love, but I'm hurting everyone I know by doing- this." She gestured at the boxes and trunks strewn around her.

Draco found he almost felt bad about that- almost- but he brushed it aside with the ease of long years of ignoring his conscience. "Well," he said nonchalantly, "perhaps you should have thought of that before we went to Gretna Green." She shot him a dirty look, which he brushed off. "Come on," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "It's nearly one. Let's get lunch."

They ate in Diagon Alley at a little cafe Draco had never been into, though he'd often passed it. It was run by a wizard and his Muggle wife, who'd been a chef in London before unwittingly marrying into the wizarding world. Draco's parents had naturally never let him go there, and he didn't want to now. Ginny really liked the place, though, and as she still seemed upset, he decided not to argue. The clientele was not the kind of people he normally associated with, but he had to admit, the food was not bad.

Ginny still seemed upset, probably about her earlier realization. Draco watched her half-heartedly eat her chips for a few minutes, his discomfort growing by the moment. He hoped desperately that she wouldn't break down in tears and cause an embarrassing scene here in public. Trying to distract her from reaching that point, he spoke up. "You know we're going to have to tell people at some point," he pointed out.

"I know," she said glumly.

He ate in silence another few minutes. Then: "Should we put an announcement in the paper or something? I mean, the society pages will do their little complimentary announcement, but maybe we should pay for a bigger, fancier one. You know, make it look like this is the happiest moment of our lives."

She shrugged, her eyes still fixed on her plate. "No one in my family ever had a paid announcement in the Prophet."

"That settles it, then," he said. "If your family never did it, then we most certainly will."

She shot a glare at him across the table, then sighed and looked out the window. "I'll have to tell my family in person, though."

He nodded, stirring his soup uncomfortably and hoping his next question wouldn't set her off. "Are you thinking of going today?"

She shook her head. "I want to get used to it myself," she said. "I'll probably go tomorrow night."

He hesitated, then: "Are you going to make me come with you?"

She bit her lip. "Well . . ." She trailed off, looking pensive, then suddenly started, sitting up straight and assuming a more nonchalant attitude. "I guess it doesn't matter," she said with what sounded to him like a forced tone. "I mean, it's not that big a to-do, right?"

Wondering what triggered the sudden change, but glad not to be dealing with a moody woman anymore, Draco sat back and sipped his drink. "No," he said, feeling much more comfortable now that Ginny didn't look like she was about to cry, "it's not that big a to-do at all."

Ginny nodded in satisfaction. "Because it's just marriage," she replied.

Draco frowned a little at these words. This, coming from Ginny? "Right," he said matter-of-factly, all the while feeling vaguely disappointed in her, of all people, for saying such a thing. "It's just marriage."

. . . . . .

After finishing lunch, they returned to her apartment and moved everything to the Manor. Ginny had expected she would be staying in the guest room where she'd spent the previous night, but when they arrived back at the house, Draco ordered the house elves to move it to something he called the yellow room. "What's that?" Ginny asked as they followed the house elves and the floating trunks up to the fourth floor.

"I've been thinking about sleeping arrangements," Draco replied, "and I think this might be best. You don't want people to know this whole marriage is a joke, right?" She nodded. "All right," he said. "The house elves wouldn't tell anyone, but in case we ever have guests or anything, I thought it would be best if it at least looked like we shared a room, or could, you know, stand each other. There's a nursery right off the master bedroom suite, so I had the elves move all the furniture from the guest room in there. That way, if they question ever came up, it would look like you and I entered the same room at night."

Ginny shrugged. "I guess that makes sense," she said. "Is there another door?"

"There are two," he replied, "one to the master bedroom suite and one to the hallway. So you don't have to deal with me if you don't want to."

"That is excellent news," Ginny said. She was feeling much better than she had at her apartment. Now that she had actually moved out, she felt more calm. She could make this work.

They reached a stretch of hallway with two doors in it: one a set of double doors with elaborate molding, the other a simple single door. The elves were moving her trunks through the smaller door. Ginny followed them in to find herself in a charming room done all in yellow and white. She recognized the furniture as being from the room she'd slept in last night. Two elves were transfiguring the dark woods and blue fabrics to match the colors of the room.

She walked around for a few moments in amazement. "This was a nursery?" she asked Draco in disbelief. Apparently the Malfoys treated babies well. The room was as large as her entire apartment, and the carpet and wallpaper was far nicer than anything from even St. Mungo's administrative offices, which she'd always considered to be especially nice.

"This was my nursery," Draco replied. "I slept in here until I was six."

"Really?" Ginny replied. "You'd think with all the bright colors in here, you would have turned out a happier child." She laughed at her own joke, then looked up at the high ceilings. "This room is incredible," she said. "Does it ever bother you that you have so much room to yourself? I mean, my whole family could sleep in here. Seriously. In some countries, several villages could live comfortably in a house this size. Don't you ever feel guilty that it's just you?"

Draco, with a tone of feigned concern, pretended to ponder. "Wow, let me think about the socio-economic implications of that. Hmm . . . No, I never feel guilty. Sorry."

He turned and motioned to a door in the wall. "That leads to my room. Please knock if you're going to come in."

Before he could continue, she went to the door and peeked through it. "Are you serious?" came her voice. "People actually have bedrooms this size?"

He took her arm and pulled her back into her room. "And that door back there is the bathroom."

Ginny turned and stared at him. "No. Your nursery has its own bathroom?"

Draco shook his head and walked to the door that led to his room. "I'm leaving before you say anything else stupid. Get unpacked. I'm going to change out of my dirty clothes." He motioned to his dusty clothing, then added, "I hope you're not going to let your things get as dusty here as you did at your apartment."

Before Ginny could object, he was through the door. Just before it shut, he called at her, "Supper's at six. Please try not to be late."

As he shut the door, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but he didn't see. "You know what?" she commented to the house elf who'd been assigned to help her unpack. "I think this place drives people crazy."

Supper wasn't nearly as somber as breakfast had been, but Ginny could tell it was going to be some time before they were completely comfortable with each other. But that was okay, she told herself. They didn't have to like each other. This was a marriage of convenience. It wasn't the happiest thought in the world, but she was becoming accustomed to it. She wasn't as concerned about it as she used to be. There, you see? she told herself. I am not a prude. She was still concerned about how she was going to explain everything to her family, but she had come to terms with things, and was feeling quite proud of herself for proving that she wasn't going to be an old stick in the mud.

After dinner, she finished unpacking, then showered to clean herself of the grime of moving. Draco had been right, much as she hated to admit it- her possessions were a bit dusty with neglect. Oh, well, she told herself. Having house elves ought to take care of that.

Which was as strange thought, in and of itself. Of course she'd had house elves at Hogwarts, but there were so many students there that it wasn't like having personal servants. One rarely saw the elves at Hogwarts. Here at the Manor, she would see them face to face, all the time, and have to give them orders and tell them what to do. She wasn't sure she knew how to do that. Her mother had always ingrained into her children the need to keep things tidy and clean up after yourself. The lesson hadn't taken much among the boys, but Ginny had learned it. She didn't always follow it, of course, as her apartment was evidence of, but she had learned it.

Having house elves might be bad, actually. What if, in the next year and a half, she got so used to having them there, she got out of the habit of cleaning, and when she left couldn't take care of herself? That was a scary thought. So was thinking about what she actually would do when she left Draco. The thought of life as a divorcee, albeit a rich one, was a scary thought. So was the thought of her, Ginny Weasley, ever actually leaving a husband. Now that she thought of it, this whole affair was frightening. What was she doing there? What was she thinking?

Ginny shook her head. This train of thought wasn't taking her anywhere useful. She forced herself to think of other things as she dried her hair and changed into pajamas. Then, still plagued by doubts, she crossed the room and knocked on Draco's door. It was only nine, so she was sure he wasn't in bed yet. She wanted to talk to him- about what, she didn't know. She just knew that talking to another person would be the best way to get herself out of her present dark mood. He didn't answer, so she opened the door and peeked in. The huge suite- at least the parts of it she could see- were empty. So, pulling on a robe over her pajamas, she went downstairs to find him.

It took asking a house elf, but she finally found him in the den, a cozy room, small compared to other rooms in the house, with large, comfortable chairs and couches, and decorated with furs and antlers and animal heads. Ginny found the dead animals a little off-putting, but fortunately Draco had the lamps off so the room was only lit by the fire in the huge stone fireplace.

"What?" he bluntly asked without turning around, as she lingered in the doorway. "Can I help you with something?"

Ginny scowled a little. "Do I have to have a reason to come in?" she asked, annoyed. "We're married now. We live together. Can I just come in and sit in the same room as you?"

It was not until he moved in response to her question that she finally could see where he was- sprawled out on a sofa in front of the fire, his head just visible in silhouette as he looked back at her over the top of the sofa. "I guess," he said, sounding disdainful and a little confused. "If you really must."

"Thank you," she replied. "I must." She moved carefully into the room, trying not to bump into any furniture as she moved around in the dark.

"Do you need a light?" Draco asked disparagingly. "I'd really hate for you to break any of this furniture. Everything in here is a priceless antique."

"Hey, Draco," Ginny said, "a group of Chudley Cannons fans and a Puddlemere United fan walk into a restaurant, and the Puddlemere fan says, 'I'll have the pot roast,' and the waiter says, 'Vegetables?' and the Puddlemere fan says, 'They'll have the same as me.'"

There was a long pause, during which Ginny moved the rest of the way to a tall-backed arm chair near the fire. Finally: "What?"

"You seemed to be a bit cranky," she explained. "I thought a little Chudley Cannons humor might cheer you up."

There was another long silence, and Ginny turned to look at Draco, who was staring at her in disbelief. Then she heard a sound she didn't expect: he was laughing. She'd made Draco Malfoy, ice prince and rich prig, laugh. "You're a strange girl, Ginny Weasley," he said, chuckling. Then his laughter died down. "Ginny Malfoy, I guess," he amended.

"Yeah," Ginny replied. "Ginny Malfoy."

There was a pause while Draco shifted on the sofa. "So you're not in tears about this anymore. That's an improvement."

"I never cried!" Ginny said indignantly.

"Well, you were close," Draco said off-handedly. "I'm glad you've stopped. I thought you were going to embarrass me in public."

"Oh, shut up," she replied. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it, and our situation is not that weird. It's kind of like me having a guy roommate, only when we're in public we have to pretend we're in love with each other." She shrugged. "People have stranger living conditions than this."

"If you know people with stranger living conditions than this," Draco commented, "you have bizarre friends."

"It's possible," Ginny agreed, and the pair lapsed into silence. It was a much more amiable silence now, though, and Ginny smiled to herself as she settled comfortably into the armchair. After a few minutes of staring into the fire, she spoke up again. "This is a beautiful house, Draco. I mean, it's not like the Stewarts', but it has its own sort of charm."

"Thank you," he replied a few moments later, his voice coming phantom-like out of the darkness. "I guess it's good you like it. I mean- I guess it's your home now."

"That's strange," she said thoughtfully. "Does it feel utterly bizarre to you, to have me call this home? I mean, I've never had a real house I could call home, in an . . . well, not in an ownership sense, really, but, you know, one where I'm not just a kid living there. Does that make any sense?"

Draco made a noncommital sound. "I guess so."

Ginny pressed on. "And not only that, but I'm sharing this home, in a semi-ownership sense, with . . . a partner. With my husband. Doesn't that terrify you? I was trying to think of you as my husband today, and I just can't do it. It's too strange."

"The world is a crazy place," he replied in a tone that, to the untrained ear, would sound bored. She was beginning to understand his moods, though, and she recognized his tone- somewhat interested but unwilling to admit it. If she had to guess, she'd say he'd been having the same thoughts all along. He just refused to acknowledge it to her.

So she pressed on. "And Ginny Malfoy. Ginevra Malfoy. That's strange. That's how I'm going to have to introduce myself. 'Hello, my name is Ginevra Malfoy, but you can call me Ginny. That's my husband over there, scowling at passersby. Why yes, yes, he is the infamous Draco Malfoy. What's that you say? Oh, no, I can personally assure you he does not sleep in a coffin. How do I know? Well, we are married, so of course I sleep in his nursery.'"

"Are you done yet?" he asked, and there was a catch of laughter in his voice.

"Someday, darling, you'll realize I'm never done."

Draco didn't respond, but he did throw a pillow at her. She caught it and laughed, then lapsed into silence, feeling much better than she had earlier. Perhaps her situation was bizarre, but at least she and Draco could stand to be in the same room. That was more than some marriages had, she supposed.

As the fire continued to burn and the pair sat in silence, Ginny's jovial mood slowly turned into thoughtful contemplation. She was surprised how comfortable she felt in Malfoy Manor, a place she'd once been convinced was some sort of fortress of evil. Of course, she reminded herself, perhaps it had been, once. Lucius Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's right-hand men, after all. In fact, it was very likely that the Dark Lord had many times before roamed the halls of the Manor. In fact, it was possible that he had been in that very room, sitting in her very chair.

The thought made her shudder a little, and she forced herself not to bolt from her chair. She was overreacting. And besides, even if it was true- which was upsettingly likely- he'd also been all over Hogwarts. For that matter, he'd also been in her mind, and she'd been in his. So there was no reason for her to panic. Places weren't tainted by association. Hogwarts was still one of her favorite places in the world, her mind was absolutely fine, and Malfoy Manor bore no traces of evil magic. Lucius may have been a Death Eater, but Draco was now lord of the Manor, and he was clean. He had never joined Voldemort's ranks.

This thought made a question that had been in the back of her mind for the past few days come to the surface. She tried to ignore it- why bring it up and spoil the evening?- but it suddenly seemed important. Finally, she spoke without turning to face her companion.

"Draco, can I ask you a question?"

She could hear him shifting on the sofa. "I don't see how I can stop you," he responded drily.

"If I ask you a question, will you answer it?" she amended.

His response floated lazily to her ears. "That would really depend on the question, wouldn't it?"

She was silent a long moment, wondering whether to pursue the subject. She felt she needed to know, though, and so, slowly and haltingly, she began to speak.

"Well, I was wondering . . . I suppose I really should have thought of this before yesterday . . . before I married you, I mean . . ." She trailed off, feeling very forward. She heard him shift impatiently, waiting for her question. She bit her lip. "How do you really feel about Muggles and Muggleborns? I mean, I guess what I'm asking is, why did you join the Order, really?"

Feeling very relieved to have that out, she turned back to look at Draco. He was lying on his side on the sofa, and at her question he had gone very still. She would almost guess that his jaw and fists were clenched, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. All she could really see were the angles in his face, which the dancing red light was throwing into sharp, strange relief. She didn't know if she'd ever seen him look so handsome or so dangerous. At that moment, she believed him capable of any lie, any treachery, and she waited on tenterhooks for his answer.

Then he sat up, incredibly slowly, and turned to look at her, and she found she'd been right. He was angry. "Because I'd have to have a reason, is that it?" His lips were twisted into a caustic smirk, and his voice had a strange edge to it she'd never heard. "I'm a Slytherin, a Malfoy, the son of Voldemort's favorite henchman. I'm destined to be evil, right? There's no way I could have fought Voldemort for completely unselfish reasons."

Ginny stared at him in open-mouthed surprise, unable to find words until he stood from the sofa. "No, that's not what I meant at all- well, all right, the thought did cross my mind. But-"

"Good night, Ginny." His voice effectively ended her stream of useless words, and he walked swiftly out of the den, moving through the darkness with the ease of long familiarity.

Ginny got up to follow him, but it was much harder for her to move through the dark room. By the time she got out of the den, Draco was disappearing up the stairs. She ran after him, but he had much longer legs, and was in his room with the door shut by the time she got there.

She knocked on the door. "Draco? I'm sorry. I never meant to insinuate that all Malfoys are evil. I know they're not, because I'm a Malfoy now, and goodness knows I'm wonderful." She listened carefully to see if he would react to her deliberate attempt to annoy him, but there was no sound. Then she tried the door, but it was locked. "Draco, please don't be mad," she called again. "I'm really sorry." She stepped back and sighed. "Really." She hesitated at the door nearly a full minute longer, but there seemed to be nothing more to say, so finally she simply called, "Good night, Draco."

In her own room, she pulled off her robe and hung it on the bathroom door, then entered the bathroom to prepare for bed, sighing all the while. It was her first fight as a married woman. And it was her fault. Of course she hadn't meant to anger him, or to indicate that he was wicked by nature. She was just curious. She was married to him, after all; she figured she ought to know where he stood on divisive social and political issues. But for whatever reason, it had angered him. She hadn't seen him like that since school, when he was much less in control of his emotions than he was now.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. She would simply have to talk to him in the morning; by then she hoped he would be calmer. At that moment, all she could do was sleep. So, folding down the covers, she turned out the lights and slipped into her bed.

It was fairly late, and she hadn't slept much the night before, so she found herself dropping off quickly. Before she could fall asleep, though, the door that connected her room to Draco's creaked open, throwing a shaft of light directly on her bed. She turned over and looked sleepily up at the door and the figure silhouetted in it. "Draco," she said in surprise, sitting up in bed. "Can I help you?"

Her husband walked a few steps into her room, rather hesitantly, then turned on a table lamp. She could see he was still in the button-up shirt he'd been wearing all day. I've got to get him some more casual clothes, she thought to herself.

"Look," he said, sitting gingerly on the arm of a small loveseat along the back wall, "I've been in there thinking, and . . . well, I'm-" Here he paused a long moment, while Ginny waited, wondering if the great ferret was actually going to apologize to her. "I'm- I shouldn't have done that. I know that. I just want you to know."

It wasn't quite an apology, but she got the impression that it was still quite the accomplishment to hear any humble sort of words from him. So she smiled at him. "It's all right," she told him.

"No, it's not," he told her. "I've always prided myself on not losing my head, and I did there, and it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to set me off."

"No," she agreed.

"And it's just- I guess I have to put with so much crap from everybody. I see the way some people still look at me, as though I'm suddenly going to turn into my father and start Avada-ing everyone. I just get so sick of it."

"And you shouldn't have to put up with it at home," Ginny said softly. "Draco, I am sorry. You had every right to be mad at me. I should be the one person- and this should be the one place you're always safe. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise."

"Wow," he suddenly and bluntly. "I really must be exhausted if I'm getting all warm and fuzzy and talking about my emotions and crap. I'm going to bed."

In earlier times, she would have been offended at his abrupt treatment of her earnest apology. But now she knew him, and knew he wasn't good with talking about how he felt. So she just smiled. "Good night, Draco."

He stopped at the door. "When did you start calling me Draco?" he asked.

Ginny frowned in confusion. "Have I been? I guess so." She thought a moment, then smiled and shrugged. "I guess about the time I decided to marry you."

Draco nodded. "Well, good night . . . Ginevra?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No one I like calls me Ginevra," she said.

"And what makes you think I like you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Certainly not your behavior, darling. Go to bed before you say something you'll regret later."

He smirked. "I never regret anything."

"I'm beginning to believe that. Good night."

"Good night, Weas- Malfoy."

"Don't you dare start calling me Malfoy all the time."

The last thing she saw before he turned off the lamp was the smirk on his face. Then he left and shut the door behind him, leaving Ginny's room in darkness. Ginny dropped her face into the pillows, sighed, then turned over. Perhaps she was crazy, but what was done was done, and worrying wouldn't do any good. Just rest now, she told herself, and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

The backbone of surprise is fusing speed with secrecy. - Karl von Clausewitz

. . . . . .

Ginny was hard pressed to say, when she woke the next morning, how she really wanted to spend her day. Part of her wanted to get to work, in the real world, away from Malfoy Manor and the thought that she was Draco Malfoy's wife. The other part of her wanted to stay in her very comfortable new bed all day, forget about work, and let her new family's fortune take care of her. But, of course, the moment she thought that was the moment she knew it was time to get out of bed.

Now that all of her things were moved to her new home, Ginny had the luxury of dressing a little more carefully. She'd felt more than a little shabby the morning before, coming down to breakfast to find Draco dressed to the nines, while she was in the somewhat worn clothes she'd hastily thrown into her bag before their elopement. With that memory fresh in her mind, along with the thought that she'd probably be visiting her family to drop the news in the evening, she took special care dressing and spent extra time on her hair. Finally satisfied with the result, she went down to breakfast.

Draco was already eating when Ginny sat down at the other end of the table. "Sleep well?" she asked conversationally.

He shrugged in reply, his eyes still on his food. "I take it you're going in to work today?" he asked across the table as a house elf served Ginny toast.

"I've got to go in some time," she replied. "You?"

"I guess so," he said, then looked up at her for the first time since she'd entered. "I suppose we can start spreading the joyous news today."

"Yeah," she replied, mirroring the flat tone he'd been using. "Joyous." They looked at each other over the flower centerpiece, then Ginny began to laugh. A few moments later Draco joined her. His laughter was calm, somewhat controlled, and Ginny shook her head. I've got to teach this kid to loosen up, she thought.

Still, he seemed more relaxed than usual as he gave one last sigh and turned back to his meal, so she dared venture a question. "How do you think people at work are going to react?"

"Not well," he said after a moment's thought. "Don't take offense, Weas- Ginny, but despite all your family did in the war, in a few circles, the name Weasley still doesn't command a lot of respect."

He watched her carefully a moment after that, but she didn't get upset. She knew it was probably true, and besides, she was the one who'd brought it up. When it became clear that she wasn't going to throw her plate at his head, Draco seemed to relax. "What about you?" he asked.

Ginny grinned. "My boss will be thrilled. She's seen you around, and she's told me on more than one occasion that she thinks you're quite a catch."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "A woman of discerning tastes," he said approvingly, to which Ginny could only laugh. He was quiet a moment, then asked, "And you're going to dinner with your family tonight, right?"

All the laughter went out of her face. "Yes, that's tonight," she said. "It's at five-thirty, so I'll probably go straight there from work. So don't keep dinner waiting for me."

"Fine by me," Draco replied. "Maybe I'll go out to dinner tonight. I haven't done that in a while."

"A while being what, three days?" Ginny asked disparagingly, then laughed and looked down at her plate in an attempt to hide her face from him. She couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Here she was, going to be fed to the wolves- partly for his sake- and he was calmly telling her he would be treating himself to dinner all the while. Of course, she'd told him he didn't have to come, and she wouldn't have dreamed of asking him to accompany her now, but it would have been nice to have some kind of support, from anyone, while she confronted her family. At the very least, he could have waited to go out to dinner on a night that she could come. He was certainly rich enough to treat his wife to dinner.

There was nothing she could say, though, so she simply smiled at him. "I'll see you later tonight, then."

He nodded, finished his breakfast and left the table. Ginny watched him go, then quietly placed her napkin on the table, smiling at the house elf in the doorway. "I'm done here."

. . . . . .

The Ministry of Magic could be an intimidating place for newcomers. Of course, Seamus Finnigan wasn't exactly a newcomer, but running through the darkened building and dodging Death Eater curses a time or two during the war didn't lend the same amount of familiarity as working there. But it was only his first day, and he was sure that in a few days he would be able to find his way to his new office without the use of a map.

"You should have turned left there, dear."

Seamus blanched. The sooner he could get rid of the map he'd been given, the better. He supposed that whoever had enchanted the maps to talk must have thought he was being helpful, but it was more humiliating than anything. That was the third time his map had corrected him in a loud, high-pitched voice that reminded him in an eerie way of his formidable Aunt Maeve.

"Now, these are the elevators, dear. You need to-" The droning voice was cut off as Seamus hastily folded the map and shoved it into his pocket, smiling embarrassedly at the small group of witches and wizards waiting for the elevators. That's it, I'll just find the place myself! he thought as he boarded the elevator.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Seamus finally found what he was looking for. "Department of International Cooperation," he read to himself, then looked in the direction that the sign pointed. His new office was at the end of the hall, then. He whistled softly. His co-workers at the Irish Ministry of Magic hadn't been joking, then; he certainly had gotten a nice job here. The Department of International Cooperation occupied a large portion of the top floor of the building, and all the decor bespoke centuries of wealth and prestige.

He smiled to himself, feeling very glad to be there. After the war, he'd returned home to Ireland and worked for the Irish Ministry. It had been great to be home, but he found he missed England. When his boss had mentioned a job opportunity in London, Seamus had jumped at the chance. Patrick Murphy, the Irish ambassador to England's Ministry of Magic, was retiring after many exhausting years of dealing with the English. His assistant, Liam Carolan, was taking his place, and now needed an assistant of his own. Seamus already worked in the Department of Foreign Affairs, and as he'd been educated in England, he seemed the perfect choice. Fortunately, Carolan had been glad to take him on.

He'd only arrived in London the day before, and all of his time had been spent finding a flat. He'd been making inquiries while back in Dublin, and nowhere near the Ministry had been available. Fortunately, he'd decided to check around one last time after arriving in London, and had discovered a flat that had just that day been vacated by a witch who'd gotten married. The flat was in a great location- a small side street near the Ministry and St. Mungo's hospital- but the building itself was old and run-down, and the interior decorator had obviously had terrible taste, including an unfortunate love of cheap wood paneling. Still, he couldn't beat being so close to work.

Moving in had taken him all afternoon, and he hadn't been able to contact any of his friends from school or the Order of the Phoenix yet. He was in England now, though, and he'd have plenty of time to renew old acquaintances and make new ones. He'd never been shy about meeting new people, and he was looking forward to the opportunity of making new friends at his new job. Smiling again, he went to find his new office.

He and Carolan's office was in a hallway just off the main lobby inside the Department of International Cooperation. His boss smiled at him as he entered. "A bit late, are we?" he asked in his strong Irish brogue.

Seamus shrugged apologetically. "I got lost," he explained.

Carolan laughed. "I can imagine," he said. "Shall I show you around?"

The two walked around the offices of the foreign officials, greeting the German diplomats across the hall and the Italians next door, before moving to the opposite side of the main lobby, where the English members of the office worked. A few of the office doors were open, and Carolan introduced Seamus to the employees inside. Seamus didn't know any of them, though he recognized some of the names, and he made a valiant effort to remember everyone he met.

It wasn't until lunch that day that Seamus saw someone he knew. "Draco Malfoy," he smiled as his former schoolmate stepped into the break room. He found himself glad to see the stuffed shirt; even though they'd never been friends, they'd fought together in the Order. "What are you doing here?"

Draco blinked in surprise on being addressed. "Finnigan," he said after a pause. "I work here. What are you doing here?"

Seamus smiled. "Same as you. Are you here to eat lunch? Come have a seat."

Draco seemed taken aback by his forwardness, which was understandable; they hadn't seen each other in some time. Still, after a moment of hesitation, he stiffly sat across the small table from Seamus. "You work here?" he confirmed.

"Started today," Seamus said. "Assistant to the Irish ambassador."

"Oh," Draco said, pulling out a fork and a container magicked to keep his veal hot. His surprise at seeing Seamus seemed to have passed, and his Irish companion could almost see his accustomed sneer returning to his face.

"So," Seamus asked conversationally, "what have you been up to?"

At this Draco looked up quickly, his eyes focused on something past Seamus. His lips twitched into an amused smirk, and he hesitated before answering. "A lot," he said simply.

"Right," Seamus said, not minding Draco's abrupt manner. There was something different about him- he seemed slightly less snooty, perhaps, and Seamus decided to try to strike up a friendship with him. Many of their co-workers were older and quite imposing, and it would be nice to have a friend at work his own age. "Well, I just arrived yesterday. I was-" He stopped as his eyes fell on Draco's left hand resting on the table. "Draco," he asked in surprise, "is that a wedding ring?"

Draco looked down and seemed as surprised as his companion to see the ring there. "Oh, yes, right, it's a wedding ring," he said. "Hmm."

Seamus leaned toward him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. "Draco," Seamus finally pressed, "are you married?"

"What? Oh, yes," Draco replied. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands, looking at Seamus with what was probably an attempt to look serious and responsible. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "you're the first person who's noticed. And the first person I've told. Congratulations."

"What?" Seamus demanded. Draco merely raised an eyebrow at him, and Seamus felt himself ready to burst. The man could be so frustrating! "What do you mean, I'm the first to know? How long have you been married?"

Draco leaned back and appeared to think for a moment. "A day and half."

"You've been married a day and a half, and no one else knows?"

His companion shrugged. "It happened kind of suddenly."

"Apparently," Seamus replied. "Has your wife told anyone?"

Draco tapped his finger against his lips a moment. "No, I don't think so," he said finally.

Seamus shook his head. "Draco, you're a weird guy," he said. "So who is she? Anyone I know?"

At this Draco looked around a few moments, waiting until no one was nearby. Then, leaning forward conspiratorially: "Umm . . ."

Seamus, leaning forward to hear him, waited a moment, then asked, "Umm what?"

"Umm . . ." Draco looked around again. "Ginny Weasley." He paused, looking at the people around them as though expecting them to react. When nothing happened, he smiled a little and straightened up. "Yes, that's it, Ginny Weasley." He seemed immensely pleased with himself, not for being married, but for admitting it.

Seamus gaped at him. "Are you kidding me?"

Draco looked at him uncertainly. "Umm . . . no?"

"That's brilliant!" Seamus cried, reaching across the table to shake Draco's hand vigorously. "I'm so happy for you! She's such a great girl, isn't she? And I love the Weasleys, don't you?"

"Keep it down!" Draco hissed, darting glances at the people all around them. "No one else knows yet!"

What Draco had said suddenly registered in Seamus' mind, and he released Draco's hand suddenly. "Draco," he whispered, leaning across the table, "you're married to a Weasley?" He hesitated. "Is that legal?"

"Oh, shut up," Draco said.

"Ah," Seamus said. "There's the Draco we all know and love."

"Really, Finnigan, do you have to expose your stupidity every time you talk?"

Seamus grinned. Now that Draco wasn't acting so strangely, he felt much more comfortable- so much so that he didn't mind Draco being a moron. "So, we should hang out some time. Do you know any good restaurants in town?"

Draco looked dumbfounded a moment before composing himself again. "Uh . . . I'm going to Ottavio's tonight."

"Sounds great," Seamus said. "Is Ginny coming?"

"Umm, no."

"Too bad. Well, do you mind if I invite myself?" Draco seemed taken aback at his forwardness, but Seamus felt justified. He and Draco were schoolmates, Order-mates, and with Draco married to a member of a family Seamus was very close to, practically related.

Draco was staring at Seamus as though he was wearing his robes inside out. "I guess not," he said finally.

"Great! I'll talk to you after work, then. See you later!"

He left the table, leaving a thunderstruck Draco behind. Seamus grinned. He and Draco were going to be friends, he could tell.

. . . . . .

If there was anything that Glennis McGregor had learned over eight years of being a floor supervisor at St. Mungo's, it was that the actions of one person could make all the difference in the world. One disrespectful subordinate could cause a feeling of rebelliousness in the entire group. And one underling who was prompt and helpful and took her superiors seriously could influence her peers to do the same, making the whole job infinitely easier. Luckily, Glennis had one of the latter on her staff. Ginny Weasley was skilled, reliable, and always respectful. Glennis had come to depend on her to be reliable, to be polite, and to influence other employees to do the same.

Which was why Ginny's behavior of late was so puzzling- namely, that she had missed part or all of work twice in the past four days. That was allowed, of course. They didn't want their healers getting overworked and making foolish mistakes in their fatigue. Glennis' concern came because she could count on two thumbs the number of times Ginny had called in on the day of her shift to say she couldn't come in, and each time, she'd given thorough and acceptable reasons as to why she was missing work.

On Monday, however, she had come back from a house call- much later than she'd been expected- and had marched straight to Glennis' office, asked her briskly for the day off, then left, offering no reasons why. Of course Glennis had pressed her young friend for explanations the next day, but she'd been vague and evasive, murmuring about having too much to do and so many things to worry about, and didn't she have vacation days enough to take off every now and then? Then, on Wednesday, Ginny had owled Glennis at home to say that she was sorry, but she couldn't come in to work. That was the whole note. And that, Glennis concluded from the comfort of her office early Thursday morning, was simply not like Ginny. Something was wrong, and she intended to find out what.

That turned out to be easier said than done. It was a busy day, and a spate of emergency calls chiefly relating to the beginning of the London Youth Quidditch League's summer season kept the entire floor busy all morning. Glennis passed Ginny a time or two, but the red-haired young woman was always in a hurry and would simply smile and hurry on.

Something was up, though, she could tell. Although Ginny's work was still quick and efficient, the girl seemed distracted and worried. The only thing Glennis could do about it, though, was promise herself that she would talk to Ginny over lunch.

The chaos of the morning started to slow around noon with the arrival of several part-time Medi-witches, but it wasn't until nearly twelve-thirty that Glennis was able to take a lunch break. Luckily, she'd just seen Ginny leave with her own lunch, meaning she had a perfect opportunity to speak with her.

And indeed it would have been a perfect opportunity, Glennis saw as she came into the staff room, were it not for Corbin the orderly sitting in the corner, the only other occupant of the room besides Ginny. Despite this setback, Glennis decided to address her friend, not knowing when the next opportunity would be.

"Ginny," she said in what she hoped was a firm but motherly, caring but no-nonsense tone, "we need to talk."

"Yes, yes, we do," Ginny responded promptly, looking up from her chicken salad.

"Oh," Glennis said, deflating a bit. She hadn't expected her to be so forthcoming, and hadn't really planned out where to go from there. "Well . . ."

"Well," Ginny said after a moment of Glennis' drawn-out "well"-ing, "I have something I need to tell you, and I should really stop delaying it." She looked purposefully at Glennis, then took a large bite of her chicken salad.

"You're delaying," Corbin pointed out.

"Hush!" Glennis hissed at him. "You were saying, Ginny?"

"I'm not delaying," Ginny defended herself. "What I'm saying is . . ." She paused to take a breath, then took a moment to blow away a stray hair that had fallen across her face.

"You're still delaying," Corbin commented.

Glennis nodded. "This time I agree with him."

"No, I'm not," Ginny said with what was apparently supposed to be conviction. "I'm-" she paused again, looked down at her left hand, then lifted it up to show Glennis- "married," she finished awkwardly.

There was a long pause.

"Married?" Glennis echoed faintly.

"Turn this way," Corbin requested from the corner. "I can't see what you're showing her."

Ginny stared at him a moment in surprise. "It's a wedding ring," she said, sounding exasperated.

"You're married?" Corbin replied. "How embarrassing."

Ginny stared at him, but Glennis, hardly noticing their exchange, grabbed Ginny's shoulder, forcing her to turn back to face her. "You're married?"

"Yes, for the seventh time, I'm married!" Ginny said, annoyed. When no one responded right away, she looked between her two companions in a mix of uncertainty and frustration. "Isn't this the part where you congratulate me?"

Corbin promptly stood, crossed the room, and shook Ginny's hand firmly. "Good luck, kid," he said sagely. "And remember to never go to bed angry."

Looking confused, Ginny opened her mouth, paused, then shook her head and said simply, "Thanks, Corbin."

"I didn't even know you were dating anyone," Glennis said.

Ginny immediately looked sheepish. "I wasn't. It was- I met up with an old acquaintance, and we started talking and we really . . . connected-" it seemed to Glennis that Ginny smiled very quickly at that word- "and we decided to get married."

"When?" Glennis demanded.

"Night before last," Ginny said. "That's why I wanted yesterday off."

"And how long ago did you renew this friendship?"

Ginny blanched. "Monday?" she ventured.

"Ginny," Glennis breathed, "that's- that's fast. That's really . . . fast."

Her young co-worker looked slightly embarrassed, but tried to smile. "You haven't asked me who it is yet," she said. "I think you'll be amused."

Glennis cast her mind back over what Ginny had said. "Monday," she murmured, then stared at Ginny in shock and realization. "Draco Malfoy," she guessed, her eyes wide. Ginny's sheepish smile told her all she needed to know. "Ginny!" Glennis gasped. "You got married to Draco Malfoy?"

"I did," Ginny said, smiling uncertainly.

"You got married to Draco Malfoy?" Glennis said again in disbelief.

"Yes, she did," Corbin said. "You've been repeating yourself a lot today, Glennis. Are you quite all right?"

"Do you mind?" Glennis demanded, glaring at her underling.

Corbin didn't even look fazed. "No. Do you?"

Glennis shook her head and turned back to Ginny. "How could you have gotten married to Draco Malfoy, of all people?" she said, upset.

Ginny looked surprised. "But you always used to tell me how wonderful and attractive and rich he was. I would have thought you would have been happy for me."

Vexed, Glennis covered her face with her hands. "I was- joking!" she cried through her fingers. "No, you're right, I was serious, but- but you should have taken it as a joke!" Inside she was in turmoil. It was true- she had told Ginny several times that Draco Malfoy seemed the perfect man. But she'd meant it in a daydreaming kind of way- she'd never expected that her young friend would actually marry the man. Ginny had said herself she barely knew him, and what she knew of him she didn't like. And now, at such a tender young age, she had rushed into a marriage with a man she'd only just started talking to again. Glennis lowered her hands a little so she could look at Ginny. "Did you do this because I kept talking about him?" she asked with some trepidation.

"Of course not," Ginny said, laughing. "I love you, Glennis, but I'm not going to marry someone just because you thought he was cute. Is that what you're worried about?"

Glennis dropped her hands to her lap and shook her head. "No. Not entirely, anyway. What I'm worried about is you. You're so young, and you say you never even dated this man. Are you sure you two are ready to be married? And doesn't your family hate him?"

Ginny sighed, smiling wryly. "Leave my family to me, Glennis. And smile a little! I was counting on you to be the one person who would be happy for me with this marriage."

Glennis tried to smile. "I am happy," she said, and even she could tell her smile looked less than convincing.

"Thank you," Ginny said. "And stop worrying. I'm going to make this work."

Still less than convinced, Glennis sat down across from her friend and began to eat her lunch. After a moment, Corbin finished his food and got up to leave. As he passed their table, he leaned down to look squarely at Ginny. "Don't worry about your family or this one," he said, motioning at Glennis. "I've had a lot of experience with families disapproving of my marriages. You keep playing your cards like you have been, and they'll come around."

This time, Ginny and Glennis spoke in unison- "Thanks, Corbin-" and he left the room, leaving the two healers shaking their heads behind him.

. . . . . .

The clock was just chiming half past twelve when Severus Snape strode into his office. The halls were unusually quiet, devoid of the accustomed hustle and bustle of students going to classes, as most of the school was upstairs in the Great Hall eating lunch. Severus had been there himself for the first part of the lunch hour, but he was slightly behind on grading and needed the rest of the lunch hour to catch up. Final exams were coming, and he knew that his more studious pupils would want their last essays back so they could study for their Potions test, so he might as well get all of them graded. It was the most tedious part of the job, but, knowing his duty, he fought back a scowl and sat at his desk to read how first year Hufflepuff Gary Grant would try to defend his sadly uninformed statement that gillyweed was a prime ingredient in green tea.

A few paragraphs later, he was interrupted by a knocking on his door. His scowl returned full force as he dropped Gary's essay on his desk and walked to the door, wondering who would be out and about in the school in the middle of a meal. It turned out to be a house elf, an obnoxiously perky little thing with ears that seemed obscenely large, even for an elf. She handed him a letter with a sweeping bow, then straightened up to wait for a reply.

Severus took the letter from her with a grunt. It was a system he'd been using since he came to teach at Hogwarts; his dungeon office had no windows, so any owls that came for him went to the owlery, and then the house elves brought the letters down. It was not a system that he'd had to use a lot, though; he didn't get a lot of letters, especially with the war over. It was strange that he'd gotten something now.

He turned the yellow parchment envelope over. The seal on the wax was vaguely familiar, and he wondered who would bother with sealing it. Cracking open the heavy seal, he found a short note in ornate, sprawling handwriting:

Light a fire. Bertram Mason.

It was Bertram, then, wanting to talk to him over the Floo network. That was strange. The Masons were businessmen in Scotland and friends of the Malfoy family, but Severus had never found much use for them. They were moneylenders, frequented by the rich and famous because they were known for being discrete and not asking questions; occasionally they also lent money to society's less savory types on the side. Despite his personal feelings for them, though, it made sense to hear what the man had to say, so after dismissing the house elf, Severus crossed the room and lit a fire on the dark and little-used hearth.

Four minutes later, a head appeared in the flames. It was Bertram, for sure, right down to his pock-marked face. Severus looked down at him. "Did you have business with me?" he asked. "I have class soon, and I'd like to end this call quickly."

Bertram inclined his head mockingly. "So sorry to inconvenience you, Potions Master," he said in a deliberately false tone, then straightened and began speaking in the quick, no-nonsense way the Masons' clients appreciated so much. "Believe me, I wouldn't be calling you if we didn't owe it to the Malfoys. Things being as they are, however, I do need to tell someone, and if I called young Master Draco I'd just be telling him something he already knew."

"What do you know?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been out of town and didn't find out until this morning, but my brother Pickford says that night before last, young Master Draco appeared at his doorstep and asked to be married to one-"

"-Ginny Weasley," Severus broke in with a soft hiss. "Foolish, foolish boy."

"That's what I thought," Bertram said. "Anyway, you know Pickford's got a license to marry folk, and he didn't see any harm in it." He smirked. "Just thought you'd like to know your boy's married."

Severus raised one hand to massage the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Bertram," he said, and actually almost felt gratitude that time.

"Well, Lucius was such a good friend," Bertram said off-handedly. "What do you intend to do about it?"

Severus looked up quickly and dropped his hand. "That remains to be seen," he said firmly. "You and yours keep quiet about all this."

"Of course," Bertram said with another bow of his head. "Keeping quiet is what the Masons do best." And then he was gone.

Severus sat in his chair staring at the fire for a long time after Bertram had gone. Draco was married, then, and married to a Weasley. He cursed Draco, not for the first time, for coercing him into not going to the Stewart's party. Of course he'd meant to visit them since then, but things kept cropping up and getting in the way. And he'd thought that nothing really bad could have happened yet, because if Ginny had gone to the Ministry, surely they would have come to Hogwarts to get his input, as he was the only other witness. As long as he hadn't heard from them, he'd figured things were all right.

What he needed to find out first was how Draco had convinced Ginny to go through with it. Ginny was not stupid; she wouldn't have gone through with the marriage simply for the sake of the oath. Something else must have happened. He paused. Perhaps the girl had agreed of her own free will- that warranted some further thought. If that was the case, perhaps things were not as bad as they seemed. Of course having a Weasley in the Malfoy family was unheard of and more than a little embarrassing, but what he'd really been worried about was the possibility of the girl being tricked or forced into marriage. It would bring all kinds of bad attention to the Malfoy family, which didn't need any more scandal, and Draco could get into a lot of trouble for it.

And Ginny didn't deserve it. Though many people would be surprised to hear Severus Snape admit any concern for a former Gryffindor, the truth was that he was indeed concerned. He'd always tolerated Ginny better than most Gryffindors in school because she was reasonably well-behaved and had always been good in Potions. Her studies in healing had involved a lot of work in Potions, and during the classes he'd taught her, he'd come to feel some mild kind of regard for her, which was rare for students outside of Slytherin. Their time together in the Order had only added to his esteem of her. He wouldn't exactly say he liked her, but he could tolerate her presence with relatively good will, and for him, that was saying a lot.

All things considered, all he knew was he definitely needed to speak with his young friend. He'd have to go in the evening, after classes were over, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. The thought made him pause. A Mrs. Draco Malfoy? His hands, which had been stacking papers absentmindedly, stilled as he imagined Draco in a family situation. Draco, the head of a household, making decisions and being responsible. It really wasn't a bad thought at all. In truth, having Draco married could be a good thing in many ways.

It was just unfortunate that it was to Ginny Weasley. Still, the girl usually seemed well-behaved. Perhaps this would all turn out better than expected- or at least, wouldn't be a disaster. Hoping desperately that it would be so, Severus stood to go to his next class.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

The right to be heard does not include the right to be taken seriously. - Hubert Humphrey

. . . . . .

Time went by strangely for Ginny that day. Sometimes it would fly past her, leaving her wondering where the hours had gone, and sometimes it would slow to a crawl, until she could have sworn she saw the hands of the clock going backwards. At every moment her mind was fixed on one thing: her family dinner that night, where she would tell the rest of the Weasleys that she had married Draco Malfoy, and that she had done so less than two days after seeing him for the first time in ages. She didn't know which of those pieces of news was worse.

Glennis' reaction to her news had shaken her confidence. She'd thought the woman would think the marriage such a great match that she would be willing to overlook to some extent the strange circumstances around it. She hadn't, though- not even close. And if Glennis, who admired Draco Malfoy, still thought their union was madness, what on earth would her family say?

At more than one point during the afternoon, she considered skipping the dinner. It wasn't a bad idea, really. She could owl her father or one of the older Weasley sons about it, as they were the least likely to make something huge of it, and they could tell the rest of the family. Even as she thought of this, though, she knew she could never do it. She felt guilty about all the secrecy and half-truths that had been surrounding this marriage, and telling her family in person was the one thing she could do to be straight with them. And so, when five o' clock came around, she dutifully gathered her things and left St. Mungo's, feeling like a prisoner going to the firing squad all the while.

When she arrived at the Burrow, the little house was bright and warm and full of bustling people and delicious smells that were coming from the kitchen. She could hear Bill and Charlie's voices from somewhere in the back of the house, and the pounding upstairs meant they must have brought their families. A very Mrs. Weasley-sounding shriek from the kitchen meant that Fred and George must be in there with her.

Ginny grinned as she hung her purse in the entryway. The chaos was a bit of a welcome break from the austere silence of Malfoy Manor. As she walked into the living room, she saw various other members of the Weasley clan in the many old and mismatched armchairs and sofas. Harry was there, for once not flanked by Hermione and Ron, and sitting on the orange sofa was someone she hadn't expected to see. "Luna!" she said with a grin, walking in and sitting next to her friend. "What are you doing here?"

Luna smiled at her in her usual milky way. "I saw your mother in Diagon Alley today, and she invited me."

Delighted to have her old friend there, and hoping that she would take her side when the big announcement came, Ginny sat back and fell into conversation with Luna. All the while, though, she was looking around the room, wondering how she was going to tell her family. Everyone was there, as far as she could tell, except for of course Percy. Even Fred's girlfriend Angelina was there. She gulped a little and thought, not for the first time, that it really would have been easier to owl her father.

After a few minutes of chatting, Harry caught her eye from across the room, and, smiling a little, got up from his chair. Ginny stifled a groan. He wasn't going to try to flirt with her, was he? Because it wouldn't work. Of course it hadn't ever worked before, but now that she was a married woman, his chances were absolutely zero.

But that wasn't what he did. "Ginny," he said softly as he sat on the other side of her, nodding at Luna as he did so, "I was worried about you on Tuesday after you didn't return my note."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Yes, the note. I was- I was busy. Sorry."

"That's all right," he said. "But the thing is, then I went to try to see you yesterday, and your apartment was empty, and your landlord said you'd moved."

Ginny tried not to wince. "Uh, yes, that's true." As she processed what he'd said, she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was lucky he'd come when he had; if he'd come earlier, he would have found her and Draco packing up her things. That would have been awkward, to say the least.

Nearby, her father leaned forward. "Ginny, you moved? You didn't tell us that."

Ginny shrugged uncomfortably as the rest of the occupants of the room began turning to look at her. "Well, it only happened yesterday," she apologized.

"Where'd you move to?" asked Angelina.

"Out in the country," Ginny replied, thinking quickly. "I can't walk to work anymore, but it's very pretty countryside."

"Really? Which part?" Hermione asked.

Ginny fought back a groan. She didn't want to tell them like this. She was completely not in control of the situation. "Umm, Wiltshire."

"Wiltshire?" Luna asked, perking up a little. "I was just in Wiltshire last month working on an article."

"What kind of article?" asked Ginny, thankful for the change of subject.

"Actually, it was on Malfoy Manor. A portion of the park there holds the record for having the country's oldest existing enchantment not connected to a government building or school."

"What kind of spell is it?" asked Harry, obviously intrigued.

"It's an ancient form of the Imperius spell. It compels those there to adhere to certain ancient laws."

"Imagine that," Ginny said with a weak laugh, and if she looked distinctly uncomfortable, no one seemed to notice.

. . . . . .

At that exact moment, Draco was sipping his water at Ottavio's, a small but highbrow Italian restaurant in central London. He had always liked Ottavio's; the food was excellent, the atmosphere was quiet and refined, and for most people it was hard to get into, meaning those who dined there were always the right sort. Of course, he realized how elitist that sounded- he could just imagine what Ginny would say if he expressed that thought to her- but he had been raised a Malfoy. He was used to the best things in life.

Although, right then, perhaps "the best things in life" didn't exactly describe his situation. He looked across the table, wondering for what felt like the hundredth time how he'd ended up having dinner with Seamus Finnigan. He didn't know it'd happened. One moment he was going through his day like normal, and the next Seamus had invited himself to dinner. Draco had hoped he'd forget, but at five o' clock exactly, a chipper face had appeared around the corner, looking into his office, asking if he was ready to go.

So here he was, eating Italian food with a half-blood. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself quickly. He'd been trying to rid himself of such slurs as those ever since he'd renounced his father's and Voldemort's doctrines and joined the Order of the Phoenix. Old habits died hard, however.

But really, he told himself firmly, Seamus wasn't that bad. Besides his forwardness in cutting into Draco's plans, and the fact that he was apparently perpetually peppy, Seamus was a decent sort of fellow. He was an interesting conversationalist, at least, and that was more than Draco could say for a lot of people. And with all they'd shared, going to the same school and fighting in the same war, they really had a lot of common ground.

Of course, there were many areas in which Seamus was severely lacking, Draco thought as he watched his companion tear into the breadsticks that had just arrived, areas like table manners. Without thinking, he said as much. Seamus just laughed. "You're probably right. Sorry. I'll try being a little daintier from now on." Draco just shook his head and helped himself to a breadstick.

"So," Seamus asked, "where's Ginny tonight?"

Draco took a sip of his drink. "Family dinner," he explained.

Seamus raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you there?"

"I didn't think they'd be happy to see me," Draco shrugged. "Especially as they'll be finding out any minute now that their baby girl is married to the big bad Draco Malfoy."

Seamus put his breadstick back down and stared at Draco. "That's tonight?" he asked. When Draco nodded, Seamus asked in surprise, "And you're here while she's telling her family she's married? Don't you think you should be there with her?"

"She said it was all right," Draco said. "And like I said, the Weasleys would probably have a thing or two to say about it. I'm in no mood to die tonight."

"Draco, you idiot," Seamus said in disgust. "Of course she'd say it's all right if you don't come. Girls do things like that all the time. Do you really think she meant it?"

"So, you think she really did want me to come?" Draco asked slowly, confused.

"Of course," Seamus said, as though that should have been obvious. "She probably didn't want to force you into it. She probably expected you to volunteer to come. Women are very complex creatures. They never say what they mean."

Draco shook his head. "She should have told me," he said, annoyed.

"I just told you, they can't say things straight out. They're genetically indisposed or something."

Draco looked at his food, deep in thought. Was he going to have to deal with this womanly doublespeak for the next year and a half?

"Draco," Seamus said, cutting into his thoughts, "what are you still doing here? Go to your wife."

While Seamus looked expectantly at him, waiting for an answer, Draco had a quick internal debate. He didn't want to go, but he knew he should. He didn't want to face the Weasel family, especially on their home turf, but he wasn't going to allow himself to be scared off by the mere thought of the Muggle lovers. No bond of love tied him to Ginny, but she was his wife, and it was his duty to support her. Family loyalty was ingrained into the Malfoys from the day they were born, and he would not break that sacred trust now, not for the sake of a few ginger-haired vagrants. I mean, he corrected himself, for the sake of my new in-laws.

And really, he had to admit, he owed it to her. She had done the same for him, when she went to the Stewarts' party with him. She hated all his friends and associates, and yet she had walked into the viper's nest for him. He ought to do the same for her, no matter how loathsome he found the task.

"All right," he said to Seamus, all the while cursing his overly-strong sense of family duty. "I'll go."

It took a bit of time for him to actually get out of the restaurant, between gathering his things and bidding Seamus farewell and making his excuses to the manager who came bustling over asking what was happening, and was Mr. Malfoy displeased with something, that he left so early?

Finally Draco stood in the gathering darkness in front of a dilapidated building that reminded him very much of a very old shed that stood on a pasture near the north edge of the park around Malfoy Manor. He eyed the structure dubiously. What was it they called it? The Burrow? Very fitting for a family of weasels, he thought. It was in a very beautiful spot, though. Of course, he preferred the landscape around his own home, but the soft hills and lush trees around Ginny's home were very scenic too. Still, the house was little better than a pile of stones, and could have fit comfortably inside the entry hall at Malfoy Manor. He frowned as he contemplated entering it. The few times he'd been in it before had been enough for him.

The memory of the day he'd entered the Burrow suddenly swept over him, and he found himself drawing a quick, deep breath to calm himself. That was the day during the war, when he'd gone to the Burrow to get Ginny to return to the Manor with him, to stand watch for him. He shook his head quickly. There were some things that he still didn't like to think about, even after all the time that had passed. It was time to focus on the here and now.

So, to the Burrow, then, but how? Should he knock or just enter? As he stood pondering, a voice suddenly spoke beside him, and it took a good deal of effort not to jump in surprise. "Can I 'elp you?"

He turned to the speaker and immediately recognized Fleur Delacour, the French member of the Order and one of the Triwizard Tournament champions. He suddenly remembered that she'd married Bill Weasley some time past. She was at the Burrow for the family party too, then. Well, at least he wouldn't be the only non-redhead.

Marriage seemed to have been good for Fleur; she seemed settled and content. At least, he could sense how hard she was working to keep her veela charms in check, which made sense. He supposed a happily married woman wouldn't want strangers throwing themselves at her. She had also, in her years in England, lost much of her accent, which made her much easier to understand.

"Perhaps," he said. "This is the Burrow, right?"

"It is," she said. "But you are Draco Malfoy, no? What business can you have here? Ze Weasleys are busy right now."

"Family party, right? I'm supposed to be there."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, and Draco was reminded of the bold, imperious French girl who had waltzed into Hogwarts so long ago. "Forgive my rudeness, but why would ze Weasleys invite you to a party? I was under ze impression you and several young Weasleys were not ze best of friends."

Casting his mind around for what to say, he settled on being truthful without giving anything away. "I'm here for Ginny," he said, trying for deliberate vagueness in the hope she wouldn't see his meaning.

From the look on her face, though, she saw far more than he would have liked. "For Ginny? Really? You and Ginny are . . ."

"I just need to see her," Draco said, trying not to break in too quickly. That would have sounded rather suspicious.

"Zen why 'ave you not gone in yet?"

As he looked at her, he made a split second decision: he could use an ally. "Well, truth be told," he said, and the truth indeed it was, "I'm a little wary of barging in on the Weasleys. You were right; we are not the best of friends."

As he'd thought, that little admission, that little heart to heart, had won him a guide into the Weasley household. "You are brave to try, zen," she said, laughing. "Come on, ze family is eating in ze backyard. You may escort me." She led the way around the back of the house, adding, "And don't worry. Ze Weasleys very rarely attack guests."

"Great," Draco said, and, grimacing, followed Fleur into the deepening shadows beside the Burrow.

. . . . . .

All told, Ginny told herself in an attempt at reassurance, she'd picked a fairly good day to drop her bombshell on her family. It wasn't anyone's birthday, so she wouldn't be stealing anyone's thunder; more importantly, everyone was in a holiday mood, and would, she hoped, be inclined to be tolerant and forgiving.

Ron, especially, was in a very good mood, and Ginny was very pleased; first because he might be less upset about her announcement, and more importantly, his reason for being happy was one that brought her joy, too, joy that came from a step accomplished toward her long-cherished hope of having Hermione as a sister. The whispered explanation Hermione gave under the tree elicited giggles from Ginny, Angelina, and George's wife Hannah: an Auror assignment the night before that left both of them stranded in a cave in Cornwall in a storm, a heated argument that started over who to charge in the case, Hermione's angrily blurted admission that she loved him.

"What did he do?" Hannah gasped as Ginny and Angelina tittered at the thought.

"Stood there like a stone," Hermione said. "For a second I thought maybe he hadn't heard, because you would have thought he would have reacted, right? But then he came round and asked me if I was serious, and I told him I was, and . . ." Her smile told the others volumes, and they all laughed again.

Ginny cast her gaze over at Ron, who was talking with Harry and Charlie but casting frequent glances over at Hermione. Even across the yard she could see the look in his eyes, and it made her heart melt. A twinge of guilt rose up inside her. What right did she have to ruin the first day of their life together?

She had almost decided not to say anything, to try the "owling Dad" method, when Arthur stood and called everyone to the tables, where their food already stood waiting on plates. Ginny followed everyone to the large tables, then remembered a moment too late that she'd already told her father she wanted a moment before dinner to say something. It was too late to shush him; he'd already told everyone that she had an announcement.

Everyone looked up expectantly at her. When she saw Ron, who was sitting next to Hermione and holding her hand on top of the table, she almost chickened out, but then she saw Bill with his children, waiting for Fleur, who'd had to come late. No one had liked Fleur at first, but they all loved her now; perhaps it wouldn't be as hard as she thought for them to accept Draco- or at least, to not kill him. And besides, it was her life, and she had a right to some happiness in the form of a hefty divorce settlement and a strange attempt to prove her independence.

"I do have an announcement," she said, "and I just want to ask you- just hear me out, and try not to freak out or anything."

"It'll be fine," Ron said from his spot across the table from where Ginny was standing. He was leaning back in his chair and appeared to be in a very blithe mood. "As long you're not having Draco Malfoy's baby, I think we can handle it."

Ginny tried, she really did, but she simply couldn't keep her eyes from widening in response to his uncomfortably close guess. I need lessons from Draco in hiding my emotions, she thought, and hoped nobody had noticed her reaction.

Alas, that was not to be.

"Ginny!" Ron immediately cried out in shock and incredulity as the rest of the family stared at her.

Hermione put her hand over her heart and leaned forward as though to examine her. "Oh, Ginny," she said in a low, worried voice.

"I'm not!" Ginny cried out quickly. "I'm really not having Draco's baby, I promise." The absurdity of the sentence she had just uttered sunk in, and she covered her eyes with one hand, wondering how the conversation had taken this turn. "But it is about Draco," she forced herself to say. It was time to tell them. "My announcement is-" take a deep breath- "I'm-" look at Fred and George, they're the least likely to make a scene- "I'm married to him." There, now just sit back and wait for the pandemonium.

There was none. Silence prevailed in which she felt her heart beat hard in her chest. One- two- three- four beats, and then George spoke: "Wait, are you serious?"

Despite the tension in her chest, Ginny laughed, a quick, breathless sound. "Yes, I'm serious. It was Tuesday night." She felt a bit relieved. Everything was so still that she allowed herself to believe everyone was taking it calmly.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. After a moment, Hermione asked, in a rare fit of irrationality, "Are you sure?"

That was the catalyst. Instantly the air was full of the sound of several dozen Weasleys shouting and arguing and firing questions at her.

"Did you know about this?" Ron demanded of Hermione, who shrugged helplessly.

"You never said a word to us," Arthur Weasley observed, rather unhelpfully, but considering the circumstances Ginny thought that wasn't surprising.

"Were you invited?" Charlie asked Bill. "I wasn't invited."

"He went to our school," Angelina was explaining to Hannah, who was a Muggle, "and he was in the Order. He was kind of a jerk then. I don't know, maybe he's changed."

"Did you know about this?" Ron fired off at Luna, looking every moment more angry. She gave him her trademark moony gaze in response.

"You're already married," Molly said sadly. "There were so many things I always meant to tell you before you got married, so many little inspirational thoughts and household tips to share . . ."

"I still want to hear them, Mom," Ginny cut in desperately. "I'd love your marriage advice."

"No, I wasn't invited, but I don't think anyone was," said Bill.

"Congrats," Fred said to Ginny with a grin, and she was very relieved to see he didn't seem upset. "With all our tricks, we've never put the family into this much of a tizzy before."

"Did you know about this?" Ron said a third time, sharply, this time to Harry. Ginny didn't see his reaction, because she hadn't looked at him just yet.

"Based on the way everyone's acting, I'm not sure I would invite this zoo," Hannah commented with a grin.

"Best wishes," Luna said cordially. "I'm going to catch you a Grumphar for a wedding gift. They ward off bad luck in marriage. I think you're going to need it."

"You may be right," Ginny said, casting a glance at Ron, whose face was contorted into a rather strange expression. Hermione was talking to him, trying to calm him down.

"I didn't know you even knew Draco Malfoy," her father said. "Besides through the Order, I mean."

"Can I have your mashed potatoes?" Bill asked Charlie. The oldest Weasleys apparently didn't see what all the fuss was about.

"Ginny told us on Tuesday that they were friends," Hermione offered.

"But she told us they were just friends," Ron cut in sharply. "And she told us she was definitely not marrying him."

"You're so cute when you insult my family," George said fondly to Hannah.

"Actually, I told you he hadn't proposed to me at the party," Ginny said. "That was true. There was no proposal, really; we just sort of talked about it and decided to get married. But I didn't lie to you," she added quickly, looking at Hermione and Ron. "When I talked to you on Tuesday, we hadn't decided to yet."

"No, but you can have my roll if I can have your carrots," Bill said, jabbing his fork at Charlie's plate.

"I thought you said you got married Tuesday night," Molly said.

Ginny blanched. "I did. Umm . . . as soon as we'd decided, we eloped."

"That's sweet of you," Hannah laughed, looking at George.

"That's not sweet!" Ron half shouted. "Ginny just eloped with Draco Malfoy! What, were you ashamed to tell your family because you knew what scum he is?"

"No, I didn't tell my family because I thought you might, you know, throw a fit or something," Ginny shot back in irritation. "The way you all are reacting now, can you blame me for eloping and not telling you?"

Harry suddenly spoke, and Ginny, finally looking at him, saw his expression was somewhat blank. "I owled you Tuesday night and you never replied. Were you so angry because of what I wrote that you hurried off and married Draco to- to what, to spite me?"

"Don't think like that," Ginny tried to soothe him. What else could she say, when his accusation was perfectly true?

"It's a done deal," Charlie announced to Bill, snatching his older brother's roll from his plate.

"Yes, it's a done deal," Ginny agreed, "so there's no use in talking about it now. I'm married, and yes, it's to Draco Malfoy, but I'm- happy-" there was only a slight hesitation, which came from her surprise in realizing that was to some extent true- "so deal with it and start addressing your letters to Ginny Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

"Who's Ginny Malfoy?" asked one of Bill's little girls.

"The crazy one with the red hair," Charlie answered helpfully.

"Oh, so you're Ginny Malfoy," Fleur said to Bill with a laugh. "Crazy wiz red 'air. It must be you."

"If you're so happy," Ron shot back, "why isn't this wonderful husband with you to make this blessed announcement? Where's Draco now?"

Ginny didn't know how to answer this, but she intended to give it a good try. Before she could speak, though, she was spared the trouble.

"Right here," said a very familiar voice, and with a rush of gratitude Ginny turned to see her husband walking through the back gate with Fleur. Fleur flew over to her beloved children, and Draco walked confidently through the sudden silence to stand by Ginny and take her hand. She supposed it was only for looks, to convince the family, but she still felt incredibly grateful to have the extra support.

"Thanks for coming," she whispered warmly, turning to him. He seemed a little embarrassed to have her attention fixed on him like that, but he smiled mildly. She could see him throw a wary glance toward Ron, but luckily Hermione had tightened her grip around his hand- Ginny could see the whiteness of her knuckles- apparently as a warning that he was not to make a scene.

The silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable while.

"So, Draco," Arthur finally broke in, "you're my new son-in-law, I guess."

"Yes sir," Draco replied. "I know this is a little unexpected, but I hope you can all get used to the idea."

"So you work at the Ministry, right?" Arthur asked, and Ginny couldn't help smiling. Her father had always grilled her boyfriends; she couldn't deny him the pleasure of grilling her husband.

"Yes, sir, in the Department of International Cooperation."

"Very impressive," Arthur commented, and Ginny knew he was impressed by both her husband's high position in the Ministry and by his polite deference. Arthur Weasley had always secretly enjoyed being called sir. "And you'll be living in the family home in Wiltshire, I take it?"

"Yes, sir. Malfoy Manor has been in the family for centuries, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Indeed. So, you want a family? You and Ginny intend to have children?"

Caught off his guard, Draco gave a funny strangled cough. George laughed. "Da, they just got married. Give them time to settle down before you start bringing that up."

Molly had been looking back and forth between Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Harry all the while. From the regretful look on her face, Ginny could see how disappointed her mother was that Harry would not become a permanent fixture in the family, but she also seemed hopeful that her daughter's marriage would turn out to be a blessing. Finally, her mind apparently made up, she approached Draco. "If this makes you happy, then I'm happy for you both," she said. "Welcome to the family!"

Draco nodded and reached out his hand as though to shake hers. Not noticing or not caring, Molly stepped up to Draco and threw her arms around him, surrounding him in Weasley-style motherly love and a handmade multi-colored shawl. Ginny had never seen Draco look so surprised, and she couldn't help it. She started laughing. In a moment she saw her father and older brothers start in. In the end, the only people not grinning were the Trio, though Hermione was giving Ginny an encouraging look.

When Molly finally released him, freeing to Draco to turn at Ginny and give her a rather significant look that only made her laugh, the family matriarch bustled over to one of the tables and conjured up a chair and plate for Draco. It was far away from Ron and Harry's seats; Ginny was unsure if her mother did this on accident or if she knew what might happen if Draco had dinner so near his mortal enemies. Ginny pulled him to this chair and sat down in the one next to it. It was only then she realized she'd been holding Draco's hand all this while. She released it quickly, then smiled at her husband and began to eat. After a long few moments of looking alternately at his plate, his wife, and his new in-laws, Draco began to eat, too.

Most of the family seemed to have recovered from her news, except of course the Trio. Looking at the way Ron was looking at her and Draco, Ginny was pretty sure the only reasons he hadn't come over to beat Draco up were that he didn't want to make a scene at a family dinner and that Hermione still had a vise-like grip on his arm.

Draco and Ginny were sitting on a table with Bill and Charlie and their families, for which Ginny was grateful. Bill and Fleur talked calmly to Draco the whole meal, and fortunately were wise enough to keep the conversation fixed on anything but the marriage. Draco talked back cordially, but Ginny could tell he wasn't really comfortable, so as soon as dessert was over she informed her family that they had to leave. No one really objected, so she hugged her parents goodbye, and Draco shook their hands.

They walked over to the back fence, where the sound of their Apparition wouldn't bother anyone, and Ginny was beginning to believe they'd made a clean getaway when she heard a voice behind her.

"Hold it, Malfoy." It was Ron, of course, who'd gotten up from his chair and followed them, Hermione and Harry trailing behind. Luna wandered over a few moments later.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" Draco said boredly. He didn't sound angry at all, so perhaps he wouldn't provoke Ron too much.

"I- she- you-" Ron started fuming.

"Congratulations, Ronald. I see you've finally learned your pronouns."

"You smug, arrogant little deheehmm," Ron said, his last words mercifully muffled by Hermione's hand over his mouth.

"Say kitatch; you'll feel better," Luna suggested serenely.

"Say what?" Draco asked.

"What? Oh, 'kitatch?' That's a curse in the language of the midget bat people of the south Pacific."

"Is she for real?" Draco asked, and Ginny elbowed him.

"All right," Hermione cut in, also looking strangely at Luna, "this is hardly the time or the place for any sort of outburst or . . . cursing in any language . . . or anything. Ginny, Draco, have a nice evening. Ron, Harry, come on." And she dragged Ron bodily away.

He got free of her censuring hand once and shouted, "You haven't heard the last of this, Malfoy!" Fortunately, he was too far away by that point to hear Draco's caustic reply. Luna nodded her goodbye, then serenely took Harry's arm and led him back to the porch.

The second Luna and Harry were out of earshot, Ginny smacked Draco's arm. "What did I say about not antagonizing Ron?" she demanded.

"Probably something," he agreed.

She glared at him. "I do not want you fighting with him."

Draco frowned. "He started it," he said a bit peevishly.

"Honestly, Draco Malfoy, you are twenty-three years old," Ginny replied sharply. "You should be past all of this."

"Why are you taking his side?" Draco demanded.

"Don't talk back to me!" Ginny warned. "Listen. I do not ever want to hear of you fighting again. Do you understand me?"

"But Ginny-"

"I said, do you . . . understand . . ." She trailed off, paused, and covered her face with her hand. "I sound just like my mother.

Draco grimaced a little. "That's a terrifying thought. I thought dealing with one Weasley woman was bad enough."

"You're hysterically funny, Draco. Did I ever tell you you're hysterically funny?" He made a face at her, which she promptly returned, then fished out her wand. The memory of what had just happened slowed her hand, and she turned to Draco. "Thanks for coming, by the way."

Draco immediately replied in a singsong voice, "You're welcome, Mother."

"Shut up, Draco."

He smiled cheekishly at her, then Apparated.

When the couple reached Malfoy Manor, they were immediately met by Bernard the house elf. "Master and Mistress Malfoy, there is a caller for you in the parlor. He's been here for nearly an hour."

"Who is it?" Ginny asked.

"Severus Snape," Bernard replied with a bow.

Beside Ginny, Draco groaned. "Snape's here, already?" He made a face. "Kitatch."

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself alone. A man should keep his friendships in constant repair. - Samuel Johnson

. . . . . .

Severus Snape rose quickly from his chair when his hosts entered the parlor, and Draco, looking at his pale face and his dark hair and the way his black cloak billowed when he rose, thought he could understand why so many of his classmates had left Hogwarts convinced the Potions teacher was a vampire.

Of course, as a former member of Severus's house, Draco knew that was just a vicious rumour, like so many that circulated through Hogwarts' hallowed halls. The many years he had known Severus had taught Draco that he was simply a man, who was admittedly singularly ill-tempered at times, who happened to prefer the dungeons.

Still, even if he was not a dark creature, that still left him as an occasional singularly ill-tempered man, and Draco trod carefully as he approached Severus and shook his hand. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Severus?" he asked, as out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny approach her old teacher to greet him.

"To this lovely young woman, actually," Severus answered calmly, taking Ginny's hand firmly and not letting go. "I hear that we're suddenly almost family."

So he knew, then. Well, Draco had known it would only be a matter of time. And what did it matter now? Severus could not really complain about the match; from any point of view it was advantageous, except of course as concerned romance. For the first time in a long time, Severus had nothing to hold over his head. It was a good feeling, and Draco wasn't afraid to admit it. "Are you saying you think of me as family, Severus? I'm touched."

"What I don't understand, then," Severus said, willing to play Draco's game, "is how you could have failed to invite me to the wedding, when you and I are like family."

It was Ginny who spoke up then, apparently taking her cue from Draco's flippant attitude. "Well, we wanted to, but we couldn't get the invitations out in time to give our guests the customary amount of notice. We thought we'd rather get married alone than commit such a dreadful social faux pas." She spoke as though perfectly serious, and Draco grinned.

"You're both very funny," Severus said, sounding, if possible, dryer than normal. "And now, as it appears that I am the only person here who cares at all about the Malfoy family's good name, I wonder if perhaps you could indulge my curiosity and explain exactly what happened."

"Of course," Draco said. "It all started on Monday. I didn't go into work that day because most of my office was still at a conference in Geneva, and you got done with your classes early, so we decided to do some inventory at the Manor. We went outside-"

"Yes, as I said before, you're very amusing, Draco," Severus said evenly, but Draco saw an annoyed expression flit across his pale face. "But you see, what I was wondering about is that when I left here on Monday, Ginevra seemed angry enough to kill you-"

"Wait, you knew her real name? What, is it public somewhere?"

"-which I wouldn't have minded, as it would have saved me the trouble; but, after that show of anger, now I find that she's recently added an M to her monogram."

"Which makes it all the more fortunate that I'm not the sort of prissy person who monograms all their belongings," Ginny said, "so I don't have anything that needs changing."

"Prissy?" Draco asked, taken aback. "Excuse me, but what's wrong with monogramming?"

Ginny stared at him a moment, then began to laugh. "Don't tell me. Hankies? Silk pajamas?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't knock my pajamas," he said, temporarily forgetting that Severus still watched them. "They are the finest silk-"

"Please, Professor, say something," Ginny pleaded, cutting Draco off, "anything to save us from tales of Draco's pajamas."

Draco, thoroughly put out, looked at the professor to see what he would do and was surprised to find him watching the pair of them thoughtfully. "Well," he said calmly, "you two seem to be getting along."

Caught off guard, Draco turned to look at Ginny, who looked as surprised as he did. His surprise only increased when he realized that Severus' words were true. Draco felt some aspects of their charade were tiresome, but spending time with Ginny was not one of them. They did get along well. Ginny was fun to argue with, because she was clever and quick, and they were now so used to each other that if they argued it was with the unspoken understanding that they were not really angry with each other. Indeed, Draco felt that if he and Ginny had been in the same house in school, or at least had not been raised to hate each other, they might well have been friends. Despite their differences, he found he liked her rather well.

These thoughts were still processing in his mind when Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "Of course I'm getting along with my Drakey," she said.

"Eww," came his reflexive reply.

"Yes, that's adorable," Severus intoned. "But if I may get to my point for coming-"

"Please do," Draco said.

"-Ginny, why did you agree to marry him? I find it hard to suppose you two fell in love so quickly, especially after a lifetime of hating each other."

"I didn't hate him all my life," Ginny rebutted. "I didn't even meet him until Hogwarts."

"Charming," Draco replied dryly.

Severus finally seemed to have grown tired of bandying words with the breezy couple. "Draco," he said sharply, cutting off their conversation, "did you coerce her into this marriage?"

"No indeed," Draco said. "In fact, she came to me and asked me to marry her."

"Not exactly," Ginny replied to Severus' questioning look, "but it's close. Is that what had you so worried? No, Draco didn't force me to marry him, so no, you don't have to worry about any Ministry interference into me and Draco's lives."

"You and Draco's life," Severus corrected. He seemed satisfied by Ginny's answer, but not quite free of worry. "You share a life now. It's a major undertaking; I hope you know what you're doing, Mrs. Malfoy."

Ginny lifted her chin proudly, but Draco thought he detected a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Of course I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so," Severus replied, taking her hand and kissing it softly. "I hope so."

In a few minutes the professor was gone, and as the door shut, Draco and Ginny both began to laugh. "Poor guy," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Are you always this obnoxious around him?"

Draco made a face at her. "You were being just as obnoxious," he pointed out, and she laughed again. Smiling back, Draco leaned against the door Severus had just exited and shook his head. "Let's hope that's the end of the unwanted visits."

. . . . . .

Of course it wasn't. The very next day, Ginny received a letter from Hermione at work.

Ron, Harry and I have just found out we're leaving on assignment tomorrow, it read. Ron would like to see you before we leave. I think it might be too early. What do you think?

The note brought a smile to her face. Hermione was always the sensible one. She quickly attached a reply to the owl perched on her chair.

I want to see you too, but I think today is too early. Is it all right if we wait?

She was somewhat afraid that Ron wouldn't listen to Hermione, but no callers appeared that night, which Draco and Ginny spent at home. Ginny wasn't sure what Draco customarily did on Friday nights, but whatever it was, it apparently wasn't something he wanted to take Ginny to. She assumed he met friends, and didn't want to take her to such an event, possibly to spare her discomfort but more likely to spare himself discomfort. And, of course, Draco being Draco, she knew it was worthless to even mention what she usually did of a Friday night: seeing Muggle movies or plays, or going to pubs to hear live bands. She considered asking him, but the thought of Draco Malfoy hanging out with Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey and rubbing shoulders with the crowd at Gordon's was simply inconceivable.

So, instead, they spent the evening as they had the others in their marriage. After supper Draco wandered off, presumably to read, and Ginny went to owl Luna, with whom she kept up a faithful correspondence. At some point in the night, when Draco went to get a newspaper and Ginny went to get a book, they both ended up in the den. They passed the rest of the evening in each other's company, not speaking, simply reading by the light of the many torches.

The next set of visitors didn't appear until Saturday afternoon. Ginny had spent the morning with Draco, being shown around the grounds of Malfoy Manor, but at lunch he left to meet with a business acquaintance who was in town for the weekend, and Ginny was left alone. She had finished lunch and was wondering what to do with her time when Bernard came to tell her she had visitors.

"Mum, Dad!" she grinned as she walked into the front entry to welcome them into her home, sparing a thought as she did so to ponder on how comfortable she was calling it home. As she showed Molly where she could hang her purse, Ginny apologized that Draco wasn't home. Neither of her parents seemed too upset about it. In truth, Ginny was glad of it herself; she really wanted time to talk to her parents, to help them understand and be happy for her, and having Draco there would probably have made them so uncomfortable that such a thing would be impossible. Arthur and Molly both seemed glad to see her but slightly worried. They were undoubtedly still concerned about her rather hasty marriage to a rather unexpected groom, and Ginny made up her mind to show them that she was happy about it.

She took them on a tour of the house first. When the idea to do so first occurred to her, she wasn't sure how much to show them; there were beautiful views from several balconies on the top floor, but to take her parents there would bring them past the master suite. She doubted they'd want to look in, but if they did, and they realized she didn't sleep with her newly-wedded husband, that could only lead to awkward questions. So, instead, she showed them the first two floors only, explaining airily that there was nothing interesting above them. Her parents both exclaimed over the richness of the house, and Ginny allowed herself to speak of the house with a touch of pride, willing her parents to see that she was content with this lot in life.

Once their tour of the house was done, she took them outside to show them the grounds, as Draco had done for her a few hours earlier. Unfortunately, she lacked his familiarity with the grounds and felt sure she would get lost if she ventured into the trees, so she gave her parents a very abbreviated tour.

Then, out of places to show them, she led her parents back inside, to the parlor where she'd informed Ian Zabini of her supposed engagement on that Monday that felt like it had been far longer than five days before. Both of her parents reacted with surprise when Ginny summoned a house elf to bring them tea; Arthur seemed slightly discomfited in the face of such a potent symbol of the superciliousness of the upper class, but Molly laughed and remarked, "Imagine that, a child of mine with proper servants!"

The trio chatted amiably as they sipped at their tea. Arthur wanted more information about his new son-in-law, which Ginny tried her best to supply, and Molly, as promised, offered a great deal of marriage advice and household tips. "Though," she said, looking at the door the house elf had exited through, "it doesn't look like you're going to need it."

"No, it's useful," Ginny said. "There are some things I would like to do myself, even if there are house elves here who could do it. It makes me feel more . . . married." That wasn't quite what she meant, but it was easier than explaining that she knew she would only be living there eighteen months, so if she wanted the chance to play homemaker in the beautiful house, she had to do it quickly.

The Weasleys stayed a while longer, and all the time Ginny made sure to remain upbeat and cheerful. It seemed, however, that her parents were already convinced that she was content in her marriage, because when it came time for them to leave Molly hugged her daughter and said, "I want you to know that if you're happy, I'm happy."

They were on their way out when Draco arrived home. Mrs. Weasley jumped a little at the sound of his Apparation; by stark contrast, Draco, in his usual way, didn't register a bit of surprise at seeing them in his house. They all conversed together politely for a moment, and then Draco excused himself and Arthur and Molly left. Ginny learned against the front door and breathed a sigh of relief. Her parents weren't the most difficult confrontation she would be facing, but they were one of the most important, and she was glad to see that they seemed at peace with her decision.

On Sunday she had tea with Elise, Caroline Stewart, and Elise's mother Gwendolyn. It was at the Stewart home, in what Caroline called a "small summer sitting room." Not wanting to chagrin her host, Ginny refrained from pointing out that this "small" room was approximately the size of the ground floor of the Burrow.

It turned out to be a very pleasant affair. Caroline was warm and gracious, Elise effulgent and lively, and Ginny was pleased to find that she got on very well with Gwendolyn Zabini. She was also amused to discover that she and Gwendolyn were related, very distantly, through Molly Weasley's family, the Prewetts. Almost all of the purebloods in England, Gwendolyn explained, were related; that was the only way to preserve pure bloodlines.

"It's falling out of style, though," she commented. "Children today don't like the idea of marrying anyone who's closely related at all. When James proposed," she said, motioning at her daughter, "Elise insisted on going through all our family records, and his, before she'd accept him."

Elise nodded with a grin. "Luckily, our last common ancestor lived centuries ago."

"That's good, I suppose," Ginny said, but was prevented from saying more when a thought occurred to her that made her stop dead. "Wait . . ."

"Don't worry," Elise laughed. "You and Draco aren't closely related. You are-" she paused and thought hard for a moment- "I looked very thoroughly at the Prewett line, and if I remember correctly, Draco is the first cousin once removed of your first cousin once removed. By marriage," she added.

"What does that make us?"

"No idea," Elise said. "But nothing very close, I'm sure."

Ginny refrained from saying "That's a relief," because it seemed rude to presume that everyone would share her opinion on marrying relations, but she was still very glad to know she and Draco were not about to discover they shared a grandfather.

"We could have been related," she told Draco as she walked into the den after returning home from tea. "We didn't even think to check. We could have been cousins or something."

"I'm not really sure what you're talking about," Draco replied without looking up from his book, "but rest assured, I know who all my cousins are, and you are not one of them."

"All right, second cousins, then. We could have been second cousins and married."

"Still legal."

"Yes, well, so's the yearly Dufftown blindfold Quidditch game," she retorted. "That doesn't make it a good idea."

He shrugged. "High class wizarding families have been doing it for years. It keeps the purebloods pure."

She put her hands on her hips. "If all the high class wizarding families in Britain jumped off a cliff, would you?"

Draco finally lowered his book and pondered a moment. "If all the high class families in the country jumped off? Does that mean I'd be stuck here all alone with the rest of you? Because then I might jump just to get away-" He was cut off when she lobbed a pillow at his head. "Let me guess," he said, pulling the pillow off his face. "'Shut up, Draco'?"

"Good guess," Ginny replied.

On Monday Glennis came to visit just as Ginny and Draco were finishing dinner. Ginny had already warned Draco that her boss would be coming over, and Draco had rather reluctantly promised to be on his best behavior.

Ginny needn't have worried. Glennis was obviously still feeling bad for her initial lack of support, and she showed up for the visit ready to be pleased. She oohed and aahed over the house and the grounds, talked enthusiastically with Draco, and offered Ginny advice and wisdom, having been married for ten years herself. At the end of the visit, Draco bid Glennis a polite goodbye and wandered up the stairs to get ready for bed, leaving the two women in the front hall.

"It looks like I was wrong," Glennis told Ginny, smiling warmly. "You were right. He seems like a good man."

Ginny's first inclination was to laugh in disbelief, but Glennis seemed to be in earnest. "That's quite a change from last week," Ginny said when she realized her boss was serious.

"I know," Glennis said, "but now that I've seen you together . . . I don't know. You just seem to be really close, and not just because you're married. You really seem to be good friends."

Caught off guard, Ginny wasn't sure what she thought of that comment. Was Glennis just trying so hard to make up for not being supportive earlier that she was seeing things that weren't there? Or was she, as an outside observer, able to see the strange, tenuous relationship in a way Draco and Ginny couldn't?

Ginny hoped Glennis was right. She hoped that she and Draco were friends. Over the past few days, she had been surprised to find that she liked her husband rather more than expected. Of course he was arrogant and enjoyed being difficult, but he was also funny and pleasant and would never really do anything that would hurt her. The only problem was that she didn't know if Draco felt the same way- felt that they were becoming friends- so it was nice to hear that Glennis sensed a connection between them. "Thank you, Glennis," Ginny said. "I think people should be friends first." Or only friends, in our case.

"Yes, you certainly did land a good catch," Glennis said, looking around the entry way. Ginny thought she was referring to Draco's wealth, so what her boss said came next came as a surprise. "I think it's so sweet how he's always opening doors for you."

"Is he?" Ginny asked without thinking. She'd never really noticed it before, but now that Glennis mentioned it, she found herself remembering many instances in which he'd opened a door for her, pulled out her chair, helped her into her jacket. She supposed it was a by-product of his "high class" upbringing, as he would call it, but even if he only did it out of habit, it was very sweet. It added an unexpected layer to his personality. "You're right, he does," she said in a soft voice, smiling.

"You seem surprised," Glennis commented.

Ginny shrugged. "Sometimes Draco surprises me."

. . . . . .

The rest of the week passed without incident. Draco's work at the Ministry went on as it always had, with the strange new addition of Seamus Finnigan. Since that evening they'd had dinner- or at least appetizers- together at Ottavio's, Seamus had been enthusiastically pursuing a friendship with Draco. While he found the Irishman's exuberance occasionally annoying, Draco thought it easier to acquiesce than to fight back, so he said hello to Seamus in the halls, talked amiably with him when they ended up in a meeting together, and even ate lunch with him if they happened to be eating at the same time.

It was a strange feeling, having Seamus Finnigan for an acquaintance. It was certainly not something he would ever have expected to happen, but he supposed that after marrying a Weasley, anything was possible. You give those Muggle lovers an inch and they walk all over you, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his father. He firmly ignored that voice. He'd learned long ago that anything that sounded like his father might have sanctioned it was probably not something he ought to get anywhere near. So, trying, albeit reluctantly, to do what he knew was right, he continued being cordial to Seamus Finnigan.

Things were going well at home, too. Ginny had turned out to be a perfectly unobjectionable housemate, except of course for when she decided to argue with him over some bizarre issue like the size of his house or the practice of marrying distant relatives. When she wasn't after him over some such thing, though, she was a pleasant roommate and a decent little chum. And what made their life even better was that they hadn't had an unwanted visitor since Monday. Those members of Ginny's family who hadn't yet visited were either too busy to come or didn't feel the need to watch her every move, and Draco had informed those of his acquaintances who had wanted to come visit that he was far too busy to take time for such things. All in all, things were very calm and very predictable, which is exactly how he wanted things to be just then.

That all changed on Friday. Draco went out after dinner to purchase new shoes in Diagon Alley, and when he returned Ginny was standing on the front lawn with a blonde young woman and two red-haired men he recognized as Fred and George Weasley. He was slightly annoyed to be bothered with more Weasleys, but Ginny looked so happy to see her brothers that he refrained from commenting.

"Draco!" Ginny called. "I'm glad you're here. Come say hi to everybody."

Draco approached cautiously. Most of the Weasleys made him a bit wary, and these twins, who made a living by being devious, were certainly no exception.

Ginny smiled. "You remember my brothers-" he certainly did remember the devils and the time he'd spent terrified that their inventions were in the hands of Ron and Harry- "Fred and George." She gestured as though to show which was which, as though anyone could ever actually keep those two straight. Draco didn't even bother to try.

"And this is George's wife Hannah."

At this, the blonde woman smiled and reached out to shake Draco's hand. "It's a pleasure to properly meet the man who caused so much trouble around the Weasley household," she said in a warm tone. "I think you win the prize for most attention-grabbing entrance to a family party." Everyone laughed- or, at least, the Weasleys laughed while Draco found himself smiling. "Anyway, I'm so glad to be here," Hannah went on. "This is such a beautiful house. 15th century?"

Draco found himself smiling as he replied, and continued to feel at ease as the conversation strayed to Puddlemere United's new Chaser. Ginny was relaxed and laughing, which was a side of her he rarely got to see. Fred and George were witty and very friendly, not making him feel like rubbish for stealing away their sister, like he'd thought they might. And he was finding that he rather liked Hannah. He didn't know exactly what it was about her that reminded him so of his mother- perhaps it was her fair coloring, or the way they were both fond of saying, "There are worse things that could happen." Hearing that phrase that Narcissa had used so often brought back a lot of memories, and Draco smiled a little as he stood there, listening to the talk and thinking of his dear mother.

The little group was getting along so well that Draco decided, against the better judgment of a little voice in his head screaming of the dangers of associating with Muggle lovers, to invite everyone inside for tea and perhaps a snack. Everyone seemed delighted with this idea, and Ginny gave him such an appreciative smile as she passed him that Draco felt quite pleased with himself.

However, as it turned out, inviting them inside was really quite a bad idea, which Draco realized as they claimed the front stairs. He'd entirely forgotten that there was an anti-Muggle charm on the front door, though that wouldn't have mattered because, relaxed as he had been, he hadn't yet realized that Hannah was a Muggle. By the time he'd realized what was happening, Hannah had already been thrown back a good fifteen feet, accompanied by a flash of light that left Draco blinking hard in an attempt to clear the spots from his eyes.

When his vision finally cleared, he looked around and saw Hannah standing back on the lawn, looking dazed. George immediately ran to her, with Fred and Ginny just a step behind and Draco a step behind them. "Oh, hello, George," Hannah said brightly. "What are we doing here?"

"Ah, a memory-altering spell in addition to the standard repulsion charm," Fred observed. "Very thorough."

"Draco!" Ginny cried in shock and admonishment.

"I'm sorry, I forgot!" Draco replied, and was surprised to find that he did feel some regret.

George quickly pulled out his wand and restored Hannah's memory while Ginny checked for any injury. Once she had been pronounced whole and sane, Hannah stood shakily, helped by George and Fred, and then smiled at Draco, to his great surprise.

He tried to explain and to apologize. "I'm sorry- I forgot it was there and I didn't realize you were a Muggle- I mean, not that it matters that you're a Muggle, but- I'm sorry," he finished awkwardly. He hardly knew where to look; Hannah didn't look angry at all, which was worse, in some ways, than if she'd been furious, and Ginny was looking back and forth between her sister-in-law and husband with a pained expression. That bothered him, somehow; he could handle her angry, he didn't mind her frustrated, but to see her hurt and ashamed was strangely difficult to endure. After a moment's thought, he chalked it up, as usual, to a sense of duty.

The party left soon after, with Hannah grasping George's arm for support, still shaken by her experience. Draco stood by, searching for the words to express his regret, but Hannah simply smiled and rubbed his arm reassuringly. "If you say it was unintentional, I'll believe you," she said, and Draco smiled weakly back. Fred said goodbye looking vaguely amused by the whole affair, although Draco wasn't sure if he was thinking of the situation or of his new brother-in-law's stupidity. Even George managed a friendly farewell, though it was decidedly more strained than his greeting earlier. Then the group was gone.

By the time he turned back to the house Ginny had already disappeared inside. He lingered in the doorway a long moment, wondering whether to pursue her. He knew perfectly well that he ought, but the thought of facing an undoubtedly furious Weasley did not appeal to him at all. He waffled back and forth on the subject until just before he went to bed, at which point he stared at the door connecting their rooms for quite some time, and then finally crossed to it and knocked.

"What?" came a decidedly cranky voice.

He opened the door. "I just wanted to . . ." He trailed off. What did he want to do?

Ginny was unclasping her bracelet at the dresser, her face a perfect mask of disinterest. "I have nothing to say to you, Draco Malfoy," she said, not looking at him.

He shrugged. "All right," he said, and started back into his bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ginny demanded immediately.

It took a moment, but then Draco remembered Seamus' comment- as a woman, Ginny was unable to say what she really thought- so he turned back to her. "Look," he said, "I didn't mean for that to happen today."

"I should hope not," Ginny snapped. "I don't know when I've been so embarrassed. My sister-in-law takes time out of her life to come see me, and you blow her halfway across the yard, just because she's a Muggle."

"Whoah," Draco replied, "slow down. That charm was there for centuries before I ever showed up, and as I said, I forgot it was there. And don't look at me like I'm being a bigot. Your Rabbit Hole probably has Muggle repelling charms, too."

"It's the Burrow!" Ginny nearly shrieked, and Draco would have been amused had he not been so afraid that she was about to jinx him. "And yes, it has Muggle charms, but we take them down when Hannah's coming!"

"Well, I didn't know Hannah was coming," Draco shot back. "I'm sorry I didn't read your mind or consult the tea leaves, but Divination never was my best subject."

"Divination's not mind reading," Ginny retorted waspishly. "That's Legilimency."

"No, Legilimency is for discerning feelings and-" He broke off, looking annoyed. "And I am not having this conversation with you right now. Good night, Ginevra, I'm going to bed." And with that, he left the room, leaving a gaping Ginny behind him.

He did feel bad, though. He had no quarrel with Hannah Weasley, and the fact that she was a Muggle made what had happened worse, somehow. So the next morning, while Ginny was off visiting Luna Lovegood, Draco Apparated to Diagon Alley, where he visited a florist's shop and carefully selected a mix of color changing irises and common Muggle orchids. After pausing to check the directions he'd gotten from Fred earlier that morning, he Apparated to George and Hannah's doorstep.

Hannah was home alone, for which Draco was glad; he didn't really feel like facing George just then. She greeted him warmly and welcomed him into their flat, then thanked him profusely for the flowers. He nodded in reply, and then stood awkwardly in the living room while she hunted for a vase in the kitchen.

"About last night- I'm sorry- I should have done something about that charm, but I wasn't paying attention and I hadn't noticed yet that you're . . . well, I'm sorry."

"Yes, I know," she said wryly. "I heard you the first several times."

"You're very calm about this," Draco observed after a moment. "Does-" he paused, accutely aware of the forwardness of his question, but her smile seemed to say that she knew what he was about to ask and didn't mind- "does it ever bother you, that people in our world treat you differently?"

She considered a moment. "Labels make it easier for people to deal with the world. Everyone does it." She shrugged. "That doesn't make it right, of course, just common. Prejudice against Muggles is very widespread in this world, I think. If I went around hating everyone who looks down on Muggles, I'd hate a lot of people." She smiled wryly. "And what was it Jane Austen said- 'Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure.'"

That made her laugh, but Draco, confused, just looked at her blankly. "Who's Jane Austen?"

She laughed even more at that. "Proof that Muggles are not all the barbarians you think we are," she said, smiling at Draco's confusion. Turning back into the living room, she set the flowers on the coffee table and sat down, motioning for him to do the same. "And anyway," she said, "the people I really care about don't care if I'm a Muggle or not."

This only served to remind him of the embarrassment of the night before, and he grimaced a little. "And as your brother-in-law, I owed it to you-"

"Draco," she said, smiling but firm, "I'm only going to be angry with you if you keep apologizing like that. I said it's okay, and I mean that."

He smiled awkwardly in response and seated himself in the chair she motioned to. He felt he should start a conversation, but he didn't know what to say. Luckily, she spoke first.

"I love these flowers," she said, looking at the bouquet. "I had color changing irises at my wedding. George had to enchant them to only turn colors that matched the decorations." She smiled fondly at the memory.

"How do you do it?" Draco blurted out, watching her arrange the flowers, flowers that according to her upbringing were impossible. "How can you be married to someone who's so different from you?"

That made her smile. "I love him," she said simply. "That doesn't solve our problems, but it gives me the motivation I need to keep going, in spite of all our differences." After a moment's pause, she added, hesitantly, "It's really hard, sometimes. I've been . . . very close to leaving on more than one occasion. But then I remember what I have that's worth staying for." She broke off and smiled. "I've been crazy about him since he first walked into McGrath's Paper Supply and started showing off his card tricks. I couldn't believe how good they were. I told him it looked like real magic." They both smiled at that.

Draco frowned a little. "And love is enough to keep you here, somewhere that's so different from what you're used to, married to someone who will never be like you?"

"He is like me," Hannah said firmly. "When you really love someone, you stop being 'George Weasley, wizard, and Hannah Ward, Muggle.' You stop worrying about what you are or what they don't have. You're just two people, in love."

Draco was pondering silently on these words when the striking of the clock startled him out of his revelry. "Noon," Hannah said. "George will be home soon, if you'd like to say hello."

"No, I'd better go," Draco said, standing from his chair. "Thanks for letting me intrude on your time."

"We're family. You intrude whenever you like."

Draco smiled and was turning toward the door when Hannah spoke again. "Draco," she said, and he turned to see her looking at him knowingly, "how are things with you and Ginny?"

He considered lying, but she'd been so honest with him that it felt very wrong- which was an unusual thing for him. So he told her the truth. "We're very different people too," he said slowly, "and it can be hard."

She nodded as if she'd expected this answer. "Just forget all the labels you put on yourselves- Malfoy, Weasley, rich, poor- and just let yourselves be Draco and Ginevra. Let yourselves just be in love."

He stared at her a moment, then forced a smile and thanked her again. Once outside, he pulled out his wand and Apparated home.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them. - Jane Austen

. . . . . .

Draco and Ginny had been married nearly a month when the Wonder Trio came to visit. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been home from their long mission for some time, but it had been quite difficult to find a time that suited both them and the Malfoys. Ginny and Hermione had finally found a Wednesday evening they all had free, and Ginny had been fretting about it and preparing for it ever since.

Draco, of course, wouldn’t have cared at all if Saint Potter and his fan club had never come to call, but it seemed very important to Ginny. She seemed especially concerned about what her brother Ron would think; Draco got the impression that she cared very much whether or not he approved of her. This was something Draco could not understand. Hermione was widely considered one of wizarding Britain’s great minds, and even Harry had the distinction of having defeated Lord Voldemort. Draco could have understood if Ginny’d been worried about their opinions. As far as he could tell, however, Ron’s only gifts were marathon tirading and consuming impossible amounts of food.

But then, Ron was her brother. Draco supposed that if he’d ever had a sibling, or even a cousin he was particularly close to, he would understand why Ginny needed Ron’s approval. The closest thing he had, however, was that shapeshifting nutter Nymphadora Tonks, who’d never really been a favorite guest of the Malfoys. That kind of sibling affection, then, was something he admitted was a bit foreign to him. So as Ginny prepared frantically for the visit, Draco tried to keep his comments to himself, with limited success.

Not that he had a lot of time to make snide remarks. Ginny only told him they were coming when he got home from work the day of the visit. With more time than that, she explained, she was sure he would come up with some way to get out of it. As this was true, Draco could only begrudingly admire her foresight and prepare to receive the Wonder Trio into his house.

Not long before the guests were to arrive, Ginny came to talk to Draco, her face set in stern lines. “Draco,” she said firmly, “can I trust you not to harrass them?”

“How should I know if you trust me?” Draco asked blankly.

“I’m serious!” Ginny said, but she was obviously fighting a smile. They’d been getting along reasonably well the past few weeks; ever since Ginny had learned that Draco had gone to apologize to Hannah, she’d tried to be more polite. Of course, despite this effort, she was a Weasley and simply couldn’t give up her feisty ways. Draco was glad of this. His life would be quite dull without Ginny heckling him. “Will you promise not to say anything rude when they come?” she demanded.

“I am hurt that you even have to ask,” Draco said indignantly. “It’s clear that you really don’t trust me.”

“It’s possible,” she replied drily. “So will you promise not to say anything rude to them when they come?”

His half-formed reply died in his throat as a thought occurred to him. “All right,” he agreed with a slow smirk. “I promise not to make a single derogatory remark to any of your guests.”

Ginny sighed. “Why does that sound like a threat?”

The knock on the front door that heralded the Trio’s arrival came just as the clock in the den struck seven. Draco and Ginny were standing in the front hall, waiting for Bernard to open the door and properly announce their guests. Ginny had thought that rather than beat around the bush and pretend that her life at Malfoy Manor was the same as it had been at the Burrow, it might be best to show her brother and his friends exactly how she lived. So she’d dressed in fine new robes and ordered rather pricey refreshments to be served in the summer sitting room on the east side of the house. It seemed like overkill to Draco, who felt that digestive crackers on a plastic plate were good enough for the Trio, but he’d learned over the past month that when Ginny wasn’t happy, no one was happy. So he went along with her planning, and prepared to annoy Ron as much as possible without breaking his promise.

As the knock echoed faintly through the large hall, Ginny took a calming breath. “They’re here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Yes, they are,” Draco said with a devilish smile, and, as Bernard approached the door, he casually put his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just showing your friends what a happy couple we are,” Draco said innocently.

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said apprehensively. “Draco, tell me-”

“Miss Hermione Granger,” Bernard announced crisply as the Trio walked into the entryway. “Mr. Ronald Weasley. Mr. Harry Potter.”

Ginny and Draco looked away from each other to smile at their guests, and Draco wondered if her smile was as false as his. Bernard turned toward his masters. “Your hosts,” he said. “Lord Draco Malfoy, master of Malfoy Manor, and Lady Ginevra Weasley Malfoy.”

Draco could feel Ginny stiffen under his touch, and at the same time the Trio’s eyes widened all at once. He stifled a smile. Although she’d borne it for a month now, Ginny had still not gotten comfortable with the “Lady” that had been added to her name. It was an old title, bestowed along with his own “Lord” on the Malfoys so many centuries earlier that most people had forgotten about them. In fact, most people ignored the fact that anyone was nobility in the wizarding world; in the aftermath of the wars with Voldemort, having a title that set you above your peers could only be seen as dangerous. The titles were good to have around sometimes, though, to intimidate guests, which was why Draco had insisted privately to Bernard that he use them when the Trio arrived.

As the door shut behind Harry, Hermione and Ron, Ginny tried to move toward them, but Draco kept her planted firmly by his side. So she was forced to greet them from where she stood. “I’m so glad you could come,” she smiled.

“We’re glad to be here,” Hermione responded with equal enthusiasm. “It was so kind of you to open your house to us, Draco.”

It was the opening he’d been looking for. “Anything for my Ginevra,” he said in his warmest tones, and pulled Ginny closer to him. The movement, he saw, was not lost on their guests. Hermione looked mildly surprised and Harry looked mildly annoyed, but Ron was staring with such intensity at the hand Draco had possessively curled around Ginny’s waist that Draco felt sure he was going to throw a fit.

Ron said nothing, though, and Ginny took advantage of the silence to invite her guests into the sitting room. “Bernard, could you show them they way?” she requested in a slightly strained voice. “Draco and I will be right there.” As soon as the house elf had led the Trio out of earshot, Ginny wrenched herself away from Draco. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Draco sighed. “You are so hard to please, wife of mine.”

“Don’t even-”

“Ginny,” Draco cut in, “what are you doing? You can’t leave your guests unattended like that.” He shook his head and and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I know you’re new to formal social calls, but even so, Lady Malfoy must always receive her guests courteously.” He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her firmly in the direction that her guests had gone.

“Draco,” Ginny said grimly after giving up trying to fight against his guiding hand, “please don’t do anything I’m going to have to kill you for later.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco said sincerely. “If I died now, you’d inherit everything.”

They found Harry, Ron and Hermione already seated in the sitting room, Hermione and Ron sharing one sofa and Harry on the chaise longue. Draco noted with satisfaction that his old rival had chosen the most uncomfortable chair in the room. After Ginny had sent Bernard off for the tea, Draco led her to the other sofa, his arm still around her shoulders, and they both sat down.

They engaged in the usual small talk- or rather, Ginny and Hermione engaged in small talk with marginal help from Harry, while Ron sat in sullen silence and Draco smirked at him. It seemed that Ron wasn’t happy to be there, or perhaps he was simply annoyed that Draco hadn’t yet removed his arm from Ginny’s shoulders.

When the tea arrived, Draco had to move his arm from its rather comfortable resting spot to lean forward and get his tea cup and a bit of cake. That was no good, as he was no longer annoying Ron. So he finished his tea quickly and ate the cake in two bites, then turned to Ginny. “This is all wonderful, darling,” he said, and put his hand on her thigh.

It was hard to say which Weasley had the most amusing reaction. Ron made a quick movement, as though to stand and put a stop to it, but Hermione put out a restraining hand and her boyfriend sat back down. His eyes were strangely wide, though, and he appeared to be engaged in a great inner struggle, probably realizing that he couldn’t very well get angry that his sister appeared to be so close to her own husband.

Ginny, in contrast, didn’t move at all, but her eyes widened fractionally and her smile stretched a bit wider and began to look like something of a grimace. Draco found it quite amusing and wondered how far he could push her before she cracked. Deciding it would be quite entertaining to find out, he left his hand where it was.

“So, Draco,” Hermione said, looking at him in a way that made him wonder if she knew what he was doing, “you work for the Ministry?”

“I certainly do,” he said.

“And do you enjoy it?” Harry asked, surprising Draco.

“It’s a great job,” Draco said. “It’s good pay and I’m in London, close to Ginny.” They’d never actually seen each other at work, but Harry had no way of knowing that. So Draco looked lovingly at Ginny as though being near her workplace was the best part of his job, and began to rub his hand lightly over her knee.

Both Ron and Harry looked rather upset by that, so Draco turned to them with a smile. “Besides, I have so many fond memories of London. It reminds me of when we were all in the Order together.” That shut them up. There was no denying that Draco was an Order of the Phoenix alumnus; with that comment hanging in the air, neither Harry nor Ron could accuse him of being at all wicked.

Ginny smiled uncomfortably and asked Harry how his aunt and uncle were. Harry answered civilly, and with the conversation steered into safe waters, Ginny dared a quick, veiled look of death at Draco. He smiled winningly back.

From families the conversation moved to Fred and Angelina’s engagement. Draco quickly got bored with the conversation, so he turned to Ron. “You know, Ronald,” he said, “once Fred’s married, you’ll be the only Weasley still single. You’d better get moving.” He hadn’t expected Hermione would blush so much, but she did and it made him feel a bit sheepish. Ginny would forgive his baiting Ron, but she would never forgive unprovoked attacks on Hermione. Besides, he had no quarrel with Hermione; she was one of the few people who’d been civil to him during his stint with the Order. So he turned the group’s attention back to himself. “Marriage is such a blessed state,” he said in a falsely reminiscent tone that only Ginny would recognize as total mockery. “This has been the most incredible month of my life.”

“Yes, well, you’re lucky it worked out,” Ron said shortly. “You certainly hurried into it.”

“It was hasty, I know,” Draco admitted. Leaning in close to Ginny, he took her hand in both of his and massaged it gently, then spoke in his trademark faux sensual tone. “But how could anyone resist when such temptation as this is before them?”

“Well, we’ve been sitting in here long enough,” Ginny said loudly as she stood suddenly from the couch, knocking Draco back a bit. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

And so they toured the house. Draco insisted on walking arm in arm with Ginny as they showed their guests the bottom two floors of Malfoy Manor, and he spent most of the tour nostalgically reminiscing about things that had never happened. “That’s the sofa we were sitting on the first time I kissed you,” he said sentimentally. “Do you remember, Ginevra?”

“Oh, I remember,” Ginny said with a tight smile. “I remember everything.” Draco smiled back and reminded himself to compliment her on her veiled threats later.

Ron, Harry and Hermione left soon after. As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, Ginny turned to Draco with fire in her eyes. “You,” she hissed.

“Me,” Draco agreed amiably.

Ginny appeared to be at a loss for words, so after a moment of glaring she poked him hard in the shoulder. “What was that?” Draco demanded, rubbing his arm.

“I’m trying to stop hitting you,” Ginny explained. The careful way she enunciated her words told him she was holding back a tirade. “It’s a very bad habit.”

Draco said drily, “That’s enormously decent of you, but what I actually meant was, what was that for?”

“What was that for?” Ginny repeated. She sounded shocked, presumably at his ignorance. “That was for . . .” She gestured at the front door. “For all that!”

“What?” Draco asked, nonplussed. “I did exactly what you asked.”

“Yes, but . . .” Ginny trailed off, looking confused.

“But what?” he replied. “I did what you told me to. I didn’t make a single derogatory remark to Saint Potter, or the walking dictionary, or your precious king of the weasels.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true, but . . .”

“I did not make a single negative remark all evening.” He smiled, very pleased with himself. “It was a very new experience for me. I rather enjoyed it.”

“Rather enjoyed coming up with new ways to needle my brother, you mean,” Ginny muttered, but she was fighting a smile. Draco relaxed. If Ginny was smiling then he was out of the danger zone.

“Yes, I do admit I enjoyed that,” he said.

Ginny shook her head. “Next time I’ll be sure to give you more specific instructions on what you can’t do.”

Draco nodded. “That seems wise,” he said. “Or you could just avoid the situation altogether by not inviting anyone over any more.”

“Not likely,” Ginny replied. “Sorry.”

Draco hung his head and sighed.

. . . . . .

At a club somewhere in the heart of London, Pansy Parkinson and Calliope Galliard sat at a dim corner table. Calliope was slowly stirring her drink; she’d never been much of a drinker, but Pansy had ordered her one anyway. It was no surprise to Pansy, then, when her blonde companion pushed the glass toward her. “Do you want it?” she asked. “I haven’t touched it yet.” When Pansy refused, Calliope looked amused. “Pansy Parkinson refusing a drink? Somebody mark the date.”

“Your humor is not appreciated, Calliope,” Pansy shot back, and she was pleased to see her friend quiet down and drop the subject. Calliope often disagreed with her, but for the sake of keeping the friendship intact she usually dropped the argument. Pansy smiled. This was why she knew her idea was going to work.

Calliope sat quietly for a moment, but when Pansy didn’t speak, she inquired, “So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

Pansy smiled again. “Well, I was wondering,” she began conversationally, “does your family still have that place in Switzerland?”

“The chateau?” Calliope asked. “Yes. I was just there at the beginning of the year to ski.”

“And your parents allow you to go whenever you like?”

Calliope shrugged. “It actually belongs to Mum and her brothers, so I have to check with them, but as long as no one else has any prior plans . . .” She broke off. “Why?”

“Well,” Pansy said as nonchalantly as possible, “I was thinking about Draco and-”

“No,” Calliope said firmly. “I have told you again and again, Draco is married. He’s off limits. Leave it alone.”

“Calliope!” Pansy replied with feigned hurt. “I was going to say that I was thinking of Draco and his wife. I’m hurt that you think so little of me.”

Calliope looked chagrined and a bit annoyed. “I’m sorry,” she sighed wearily. “No, really, Pansy, don’t be mad. What were you going to say?”

Pansy hid a smile. “All right, I suppose I’ll forgive you. I was going to say that I’d been thinking about how poor Draco and Jenny-”

“Ginny.”

“All right, Draco and Ginny. The poor dears never got a honeymoon.”

“Right,” Calliope said slowly.

“Right,” Pansy said. “So I thought that it might be nice if we invited them to the chateau for a week.”

“We?”

“Of course ‘we,’ ” Pansy replied. “It would be strange for them to go alone to someone else’s house, but I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck there alone while they go off together. I’ll come and keep you company.”

“Wait,” Calliope said firmly. “Why-”

“And it’s been so long since I’ve been to Switzerland,” Pansy said reminiscently. “It’s so beautiful. I’d love to go again. And as my friend, it would be very kind of you to invite me.”

“Yes, but-”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” Pansy said sweetly.

Calliope tried to retort, but when she fell silent and sighed Pansy knew she’d won. “All right.”

“Excellent,” Pansy said calmly, and only those who knew her well would see that her smile was a bit grim. “Go home and see if anyone’s using the chateau- let’s see, it’s Wednesday- say, next week? Monday through Saturday? And when I come over for tea tomorrow you can tell me and we can owl the Malfoys.” Calliope nodded mutely while Pansy helped herself to her friend’s still-untouched glass, feeling very much in need of a relaxing drink. With a smile, she tipped the glass toward Calliope in a mock salute, then sat back and drank deeply.

What she’d just said was still echoing through her mind. How she hated that phrase, “The Malfoys,” and all the thoughts that came with it! It disgusted her to think of that Muggle lover as mistress of Malfoy Manor. That was meant to be her position. That had been the wish of Lucius Malfoy, as well as her own father.

She’d blown her chance the first time by cheating on Draco with Theodore Nott. That wasn’t really her fault, though. She’d been so young; she hadn’t been ready to tie herself down to one man. Well, this time things would be different. She was ready to become Mrs. Draco Malfoy, and Switzerland was her chance to make that happen.

. . . . . .

It was so nice to be able to visit family, Elise Stewart reflected as she stepped out of the fireplace and dusted herself off. She normally didn’t use the Floo network, but she was traveling with her sister Adele, who was too young to Apparate. Adele, who’d returned a few weeks earlier from her fifth year at Hogwarts, had been invited to visit France with a friend’s family, and Elise had taken her to buy clothes for the trip.

As Adele and Elise hung up their purses, their mother came forward to greet her daughters. “How was your day?” Gwendolyn asked, then listened with a smile as Adele vividly described their day of shopping. “It sounds charming, Adele,” she said. “Why don’t you go hang your robes up? Your father will be home for supper soon.”

As Adele left the room, Gwendolyn turned to Elise. “I heard from your Aunt Genoa today,” she said. “She was wondering if anyone was using the Swiss chateau next week. I said that you weren’t, but I thought I’d ask.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere next week,” Elise said. “Are the Galliards going to Switzerland?”

“Not all of them, but apparently Calliope wants to use it,” Gwendolyn replied, and her tone clearly implied there was more to that statement than met the eye.

“Calliope?” Elise repeated in surprise, wondering why her quiet cousin wanted to travel without her family. “That dear quiet thing? I never knew she was the globetrotting kind.”

“She isn’t,” Gwendolyn said, “but her friend Pansy is. It seems Pansy wants to invite Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to come to Switzerland with her and Calliope, to make up for the honeymoon they never had.” She gave her daughter a signficant look.

“Pansy?” Elise murmured. “That seems uncharacteristically altruistic of her.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gwendolyn responded. “I can’t help but think she has something other than the couple’s best interests at heart.”

Elise frowned, deep in thought. Then she looked up at her mother with a bright smile. “Perhaps I should go visit Calliope,” she said. “She’s such a dear girl, and I haven’t seen her in absolute ages.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Gwendolyn.

Elise found Calliope at the Galliard home in Kent. Her fair-haired cousin greeted her warmly, but Elise could see that she was ill at ease. As well she should be, she thought, subjecting Draco and Ginny to a week of Pansy Parkinson.

Polite as always, Calliope showed Elise to a drawing room. “So,” Elise said as the pair seated themselves on the ornate chairs, “I hear you’re going to Switzerland.”

“I suppose I am,” Calliope said, shrugging uncomfortably.

“Yes, charming country,” Elise went on. “And I hear you’re taking some guests. Pansy Parkinson and Draco and Ginny Malfoy, correct?”

It was clear from Calliope’s face that she already knew what her cousin was getting at. “Yes,” she said resignedly.

“I take it, then, that you know this is going to be a problem?”

“Well . . . it’s possible.”

“Calliope,” Elise said admonishingly. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that Pansy only wants to invite the Malfoys so that she can lure Draco away from his wife.”

Calliope sighed. “Yes, I know,” she admitted.

“Then why did you agree to this scheme?” Elise asked. “I certainly hope you don’t approve of what Pansy’s trying to do.”

“Of course not,” Calliope said indignantly. “It just-” She sighed. “Elise, you know how hard it’s been for me to make friends since I’ve come back from France.”

It was true, Elise knew. Calliope’s father Alain Galliard was from France, so he’d sent both his children to Beauxbatons. Christopher had come back to England after finishing school, and he’d had no trouble adjusting. Calliope, however, had worked in Paris for several years at graduating and had only recently returned to England. This, in combination with her naturally retiring personality, had make it very difficult for her to make friends. Pansy was one of her few friends in England, despite their radically different personalities.

“Yes, I know,” Elise said kindly.

Calliope smiled apologetically. “I don’t want to lose my closest friend in this country,” she explained. “I know I should be strong enough to stand up to her-”

“Don’t feel badly, dearest,” Elise said, squeezing her cousin’s hand comfortingly.

“I feel quite sorry for Draco’s poor wife,” Calliope admitted. “I wish there was something to do to keep Pansy from doing this.” She perked up. “You know Draco well. Why don’t you just tell him to refuse the invitation?”

Elise shook her dark head. “No, then Pansy will just think of something else.” She frowned, deep in thought, while Calliope nervously played with the ends of her long hair. It was after a long silence that Elise nodded decisively at her cousin. “I think the best thing to do is to go to Switzerland and let Pansy see for herself that stealing Draco back isn’t going to work. Besides,” she said with a smile, “I do enjoy Switzerland.”

“But- wait, you’re coming?” Calliope said hopefully.

Elise smiled. “It’s my family’s place, too, and it’s large enough for all of us. It’s perfectly natural for James and me to take a vacation. And the woods around the chateau are so lovely this time of year.”

“Well, I won’t feel half so awkward with you and James there,” Calliope smiled.

“That’s the hope,” Elise said.

Her next stop was Malfoy Manor. The house elf who answered the door was reluctant to let her in, as the Malfoys were in the middle of dinner, but when Draco realized who was at the door he immediately told his elf- Bernard, apparently, was his name- to let her in. Bernard led Elise to the dining room, where Draco and Ginny sat at the table eating dessert. With accute correctness that would have made the Zabinis’ house elves with green with envy, the elf announced Elise’s name to his masters.

It warmed Elise’s heart to see Ginny’s eyes light up as the two woman greeted each other. She had seen Ginny several times since their tea, sometimes with their husbands and sometimes without, and the two women had found they got on very well. Draco, too, looked pleased to see his old friend and greeted her warmly.

The trio sat at the dining table- Bernard looked a little surprised at this breach in protocol, but said nothing- and conversed pleasantly for several minutes. When the stream of small talk ended, Elise admitted she had a more serious reason for coming than a mere social call.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asked.

Elise looked at her, then at Draco. “I suppose you’ve gotten the invitation already?”

They both looked back at her blankly. “I don’t think so,” Ginny said. “What invitation?”

“No one’s owled you today?” Elise pressed.

Draco’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, right. I got an owl right before I left work today. I was going to read it when I got home, but I forgot.” Out of a robe pocket he produced a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it quickly, he read the careful cursive writing, his face falling into a frown as he did so. Without commenting, he stood up and took the paper over for Ginny to read; Elise, watching them, marveled at how old-fashioned they were, sitting at opposite ends of the table like that.

“Who’s Calliope Galliard?” Ginny asked when she was finished.

“You saw her at the Stewarts’ party,” Draco answered. “She was talking to Pansy Parkinson.” He looked up at Elise. “She’s your cousin, right? Why would she want to take us to Switzerland?”

“Well, as it turns out it wasn’t her idea,” Elise answered. “As it turns out, what the invitation doesn’t mention is that the other person traveling with you, who is also the mastermind behind this scheme, is one Pansy Parkinson.”

“Pansy?” Draco repeated. “Why?”

“I suppose only she knows all the reasons,” Elise said, “but I imagine it has something to do with the fact that she can’t get over you being married to someone else.”

“So she wants us to go Switzerland . . .” Ginny began.

“To have a week to lure me away from you,” Draco finished.

“A week is all it takes?” Ginny asked. “You’re so fickle, Draco.”

Elise smiled wryly, well used to Draco and Ginny’s banter. “I believe that’s the basic idea. She wanted a week in the same house as you, but it would be suspicious without Ginny there, so she cooked up this silly honeymoon idea.”

“Well, there’s an easy solution to this,” Draco said. “I’ll just say no to the invitation.”

“Of course that could be a good idea,” Elise began, and Ginny looked at her in surprise, “but if you say no to this she’s just going to come up with some other plot. She’s a very determined woman.”

“This is true,” Draco said knowledgeably.

“What, then?” Ginny asked suspiciously.

“I think you should go,” Elise said, and both of her hosts grimaced. “No, hear me out. If you go to this, you will have a full week to convince her that she has absolutely no chance with you, Draco.”

“Or we could just get a restraining order,” he grumbled.

“No, that takes too much time,” Elise said reasonably. “But you haven’t heard the rest of my brilliant plan. She’s undoubtedly hoping that Calliope can keep Ginny occupied while she makes her move. So I have taken the liberty of inviting James and myself to the chateau as well. It belongs to the whole family, after all.”

“So it’ll be harder for her to get Draco alone,” Ginny said with the beginnings of a smile. “It makes sense.”

“No,” Draco said firmly, and the two women looked at him in surprise. “I refuse to play right into her hand like that. You don’t know her, Ginny. She fights dirty.”

“You fight dirty too, Draco,” Ginny pointed out with a smile.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “But with the best of intentions,” he replied charmingly.

Elise broke back in. “But if you don’t do this, she’ll just keep trying,” Elise said. “Wouldn’t you rather get it out of the way?” Her hosts still looked unconvinced, so she pulled out the big guns. “And I really think it would be a good idea for you to have a honeymoon. You don’t know what people have been saying.”

“What have they been saying?” Ginny asked suspiciously.

“None of your friends believe it,” Elise answered carefully, looking at Draco, “but other people have been saying . . . the way you two got married so quickly, with no ceremony or announcement or anything . . . there’s talk that maybe you had to get married.”

For some reason this made Ginny snort with laughter, and Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Wait, you didn’t really have to get married, did you?” Elise asked, suddenly very embarrassed. “You weren’t-” She paused, looking for a delicate way to say this. “You’re not expecting . . . anything, are you, Ginny?”

“What?” Ginny asked in surprise. “No, of course not. I just laughed because . . . I thought of something funny, that’s all.” She paused. “Wait, people think I’m pregnant?”

“Not really,” Elise reassured her, “but some people have wondered. But if you went on a honeymoon together, if you were seen together being the happily married couple I know you are, it would seem less like a . . . what’s the phrase? Shotgun wedding?”

“How vulgar,” Draco said in mild surprise.

“She has a point, though,” Ginny said. “Most married couples do have honeymoons.” She and her husband shared a long, significant look that made Elise wonder what they were thinking of.

Finally Draco sighed. “All right, we can go,” he said. “But you and James had better be there to save us from Pansy.”

“Absolutely,” Elise grinned. “And one more thing.”

“It’s always one more thing,” Draco groaned.

“It might be a good idea if you invited someone else,” Elise said. “Someone young- maybe an attractive single gentleman. Someone who could distract Calliope from distracting Ginny.”

“You’re suggesting that we use the same low tactics on your cousin that Pansy would have used on me?” Ginny asked in surprise.

“Of course not,” Elise said. “I adore Calliope. But with Pansy busy following Draco and everyone else married, he would naturally spend time with the only other non-married non-Draco-stalking member of the group.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Ginny said, “but I don’t know anyone suitable who’s going to be around next week. Draco?”

Draco frowned, obviously displeased with the way things were going but unable to ignore the validity of Elise’s remarks. “I suppose I could ask Seamus Finnigan,” he said finally.

“Oh, do,” Ginny said delightedly. “I adore Seamus.”

“Before I concede defeat in this, though,” Draco said, “let me simply say that I hate the thought of spending any time in the same house as that loudmouthed drunkard, and that Muggle loving prissy boy is the last person I’d want to spend a week with.”

“Now that you’ve made your token caustic remarks,” Ginny said drily, “will you admit defeat?”

“Fine,” he said. “I admit it. I’ve lost this round and my punishment is a week of Seamus and Pansy.”

“Excellent,” Elise said. “I’ll send word to prepare another room for Seamus.”

Ginny nodded in agreement while Draco sighed heavily. “All right,” she said. “To Switzerland.”

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Travel makes a wise man better, and a fool worse. - Thomas Fuller

. . . . . .

It was a strange group who sat in a small pub overlooking the docks just outside the seaside town of Dover. Draco and Ginny Malfoy sat side by side on a bench, while nearby stood Pansy Parkinson, pouting, dressed in a scarlet robe that could not be very good for sea travel. Elise Stewart sat by the window, gazing rapturously out at the sea spreading out before them like a sparkling sheet extending to the horizon, and next to her stood her cousin Calliope Galliard, quietly fiddling with a button on her coat. On the other side of the Malfoys, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, was Seamus Finnigan.

The last member of the group was James Stewart, sitting on the corner bench and watching the people around him through scrutinizing eyes. James was the sort of quiet introvert who enjoyed observing those around him, which made him quite the opposite of his wife Elise. He supposed that was why they worked so well together; she talked enough for the both of them when they were out socially, and at home they had an understanding that she would be quiet when he wanted quiet and he would talk when she wanted to talk.

Right then, all was quiet as they awaited the ferry that would bring them from Dover to Calais, so James had plenty of time to observe the group he was presently with. He watched them all with interest, wondering what was going on in their heads. Pansy Parkinson, for instance. Didn't she care she was wearing robes that couldn't be comfortable to travel in? She was no stranger to travel, he knew, so she must have worn them to impress. From the looks she was giving Draco it was not difficult to guess just whose eye she was trying to catch. What Elise had said was true, then, and James felt glad they'd come after all. Draco and Ginny were also an interesting case; they were sitting side by side, but very stiffly, farther apart than was necessary, and it seemed to James that they were trying not to touch each other at all. A fight, perhaps?

On the other side of the room, Calliope pulled her coat a little tighter around herself, and James found his eye drawn to her. She was a terribly self-conscious little thing; no matter how many times Elise told her, she would not believe the truth: that she was quite pretty in her fragile way. That fact did not seem to be lost on the only single male member of their group, however; Seamus Finnigan had surreptiously watched her since he had arrived. James knew Seamus was a half-blood, and he wondered if the Irishman knew that Calliope's father, rest him, had been a small-time supporter of Voldemort before his death.

The group was presently in the Drowsy Maggie, a wizarding pub that reminded James of the Leaky Cauldron in several ways: they were both old, a bit dingy, and hidden from Muggle view by a spell. The Drowsy Maggie was part of a cluster of wizard establishments on the shore outside Dover; when Muggles looked at the Wizard Quarter, all they saw was a small bay, fenced off and marked as a wildlife preserve. In truth, there was an old lighthouse overlooking the docks, which were situated near a shipyard that looked much smaller on the outside than it did on the inside. Facing out over the water was a string of shops and businesses, where wizards crossing the Channel hired ferries to take them to France.

It was a source of great frustration to all British wizards that they couldn't simply Apparate to the Continent, but the current running through the Channel made that impossible, because of course magic couldn't cross over running water that way. So for thousands of years, any wizard going to the Continent had to find more time-consuming ways to travel. It was no wonder that most British wizards chose not to travel abroad. Broomsticks could be used in crossing the sea, but this was not practical for those witches and wizards who were long past their youthful flying days. In recent years, airplanes had provided an alternative for crossing the Channel, but between the long waits and heavy security most people found it to be more trouble than it was worth. Most wizards were forced to hire a ferry in Dover and cross the Muggle way. Fortunately, the running water didn't disrupt enchantments placed on the ferries themselves, so the crossing of the channel could be made in record time.

James found himself making that crossing often to go to Elise's family's chateau. He wished they'd bought a vacation house somewhere closer to home. It'd been in the family for years, though, so he supposed there was nothing to be done. The ferry ride usually wasn't too lengthy, but this particular ride was shaping up to be rather unpleasant, and he would be glad when it was over. The way he understood it, Pansy Parkinson hadn't found out until the previous night that Elise, James and Seamus would be coming on their trip, and apparently twelve hours wasn't enough time for her to get over her anger, because she was still fairly seething- as well as drinking, which explained why the group was at the pub, rather than at the ship company next door, where they should have been waiting for their boat to be ready. All told, James would be glad when they all arrived at the chateau and he could get out of Pansy's way.

It was nearly an hour later that James finally found himself at the chateau in Switzerland, climbing the stairs to he and Elise's usual room. It was good to be there; he hadn't been in nearly a year, and he'd forgotten how well he liked it. The chateau was a beautiful old building with rustic charm and every modern accomodation, as well as more rooms than seemed possible based on the size of the outside of the house. It was situated in a beautiful valley in the mountains of the the canton of Graubünden. The house was a few minutes' walk outside the little wizarding town of Eiche, which was in turn situated within easy distance of the two Muggle resort towns of Davos and Arosa, making it easy for those wizards who felt so inclined to take in the nightlife there. James never did feel so inclined. The scenery around Eiche was some of the most beautiful in the world, in his opinion, and he was quite content never to leave once he got there.

Unfortunately, on that day he was not granted his wish. Soon after arriving, Seamus looked out over the back porch and, seeing a hill rising through the trees behind the house, announced that he would like to see the view from the top of that hill. Ginny agreed with Seamus, and Draco, after a short pause, agreed with Ginny in a way that made James suspect he was only doing so out of duty. Pansy immediately agreed with Draco- she probably would have agreed if he'd insisted the world was flat- and then everyone decided to go. James wouldn't have gone but Elise wanted to accompany her friends, and he knew she was afraid of heights and would want him there with her.

So, after everyone had eaten a late lunch, they all set out toward the hill. The day was windy and a bit chilly, and James was glad he'd brought a jacket. When they reached the base of the hill, Pansy pulled out her wand. "I'm going to Apparate to the top. Coming?"

"I'm going to hike," said Ginny. "It's such a beautiful day."

Draco looked at her appreciatively. "I'll go with you."

"Do you think there's a way up?" Pansy said immediately. "Because I couldn't see a good way up, but if there is one, I'll hike, of course."

James refrained from shaking his head in amusement.

In the end they all hiked up except the Stewarts, who Apparated. As Elise and James waited at the crest of the hill, Elise turned, smiling reminiscently, to her husband. "Do you remember the first time we came here together?"

"The winter after we got married," James replied.

"What a wonderful vacation," Elise said. "All the thrill of being newlyweds." She wound her arm around her husband's waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "I hope Draco and Ginny are just as happy."

"I hope so."

Elise could not be as passionate as she was and not come to understand something about about human emotions. At hearing the tone in James' voice, she turned to look at her husband. "What's the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"Draco and Ginny," James shrugged. "Didn't they seem a little distant today?"

Elise frowned a little. "I don't know. I didn't notice."

James smiled wryly. "I hope they didn't fight. If so, it's going to be an awkward vacation."

"Oh, no," Elise said. "They can't be unhappy on their romantic vacation! Something will have to be done."

James looked, surprised and amused, at his wife. "And I suppose you'll have a hand in that? I should have learned to be more cautious with what I say by now. You always take me more seriously than I intended."

Elise smiled. "I'm just going to make sure that they have the best vacation ever."

James laughed. "How very fortunate for them."

. . . . . .

The view from the top of the hill really was beautiful. Seamus was glad of that; he'd have been quite embarrassed if the whole group had followed him on his hike, only to find out there was nothing to see once they'd reached their destination. Smiling out at the scenery around him, he took a deep breath of the refreshing mountain air and then let it out in a contented sigh. He hadn't realized how much he needed a vacation until that moment. It was fortunate that Draco had decided to invite him.

Of course, Seamus knew perfectly well that he'd invited him only out of necessity. When Draco had first approached him about the trip, he'd explained his reasoning for doing so: so Seamus could help keep Pansy away from the Malfoys. Seamus glanced over at Pansy, an amused twinkle in his eyes. Despite her earlier claim that she'd love to hike, she did not appear to have enjoyed their walk at all. Seamus smiled. He'd only been with the group for a matter of hours, and he'd already seen that Draco's fears were entirely founded. Pansy had made several obvious advances toward Draco when she thought no one would notice. Seamus was glad he'd come along after all. He looked upon Ginny as a dear friend, and he was beginning to become friends with Draco, and he would do anything necessary to help their marriage.

And it wasn't as though helping them was a great sacrifice. Taking an all-expense paid week-long trip to a beautiful Swiss chateau was definitely something he didn't mind doing for his friends. The scenery was beautiful, the house was amazing, and the company- he snuck a glance at his companions- the company was not at all bad.

Particularly one Calliope Galliard. He'd never met her before, as she'd only returned to England after he'd gone home to Ireland, and he definitely felt that this was a serious failing in his life. His gaze returned to Calliope, and as though she could feel his eyes on her, she looked over at him from behind her fall of fair hair. Their eyes locked for the briefest of instants before she looked away, staring determinedly out at the mountains. Seamus smiled. So she was shy. Well, he certainly enjoyed a challenge, and he was more than ready to take this one on.

When they got back to the chateau the group broke up. Everyone went into their rooms to unpack, and once that was done they all fell into various calm activities to while the remaining afternoon away. Seamus was bored almost immediately, but fortunately by that point it was late afternoon and he only had a few hours to kill. He spent it reading in the library with Ginny and Draco; it turned out to be an interesting way to spend the time, but he was not at all sorry to hear Pansy call them for dinner.

He'd been wondering where Pansy had been all the while, but this became quite clear when she appeared in the library door. He'd thought her appearance before was overdone, but that had nothing on her evening look. Draco, he could see, seemed mildly surprised, but Ginny simply looked amused. Stifling a smile, Seamus put down his book and stood. "Let's go, then."

They ate dinner in Eiche at a quaint little restaurant, which according to their waiter dated back to the 1200's. Seamus contrived to end up sitting by Calliope, so she determinedly talked to Elise all the while. Looking around the table, Seamus was glad to see that he was not the only member of their group who appeared to be struggling to attract the attention they wanted. Pansy had roped Draco and James into a conversation, pausing every so often to say, "Don't you agree with me, Joanie?" And Ginny would roll her eyes and go back to talking to Seamus.

Even from a few seats away, Seamus could see the slightly glazed look in Draco's eyes, and he wondered at his friend's patience with Pansy. Perhaps Draco was not all that patient, however, and wanted to put Pansy off, because after some time of this he quite obviously took Ginny's hand, on top of the table where Pansy couldn't help but see it. To Seamus' surprise this appeared to make Ginny uncomfortable, though he was sure that if he hadn't already known Ginny for some time he wouldn't have noticed. He wondered at her discomfort, but after a moment decided she probably felt sorry for Pansy. That would be very like her; she was a very compassionate person, which was apparent from her choice of career.

Seamus stole a glance at Pansy and saw in her eyes that Draco's gesture was not lost on her. It was a sad spectacle, and Seamus wondered if this bid for Draco's attention was going to last the whole trip. Well, it was Pansy's problem, so Seamus simply shook his head and picked up his menu.

. . . . . .

The house finally quieted down around eleven. The group had returned from dinner some time earlier, but no one had been ready to sleep yet, so they'd passed the evening lounging about the rec room in the basement, playing pool and cards. Ginny was a terrible pool player, because she'd never had easy access to a table; Draco, not surprsingly, was excellent and had beaten everyone else handily. Ginny had simply shaken her head at him, but she couldn't help feeling a swell of pride that her husband had proven to be the best player. Finally, when Elise dozed off sitting by the fire, everyone decided to go to sleep.

Ginny got to the bedroom of the suite that had been given to her and Draco first and sat uncertainly on the bed. It was getting late, and she was a bit tired, but she didn't want to go to bed until she and Draco had figured out their sleeping arrangements. She'd been wondering for some time now what they were going to do about it- in truth, it was one of the first things that came to her mind when she heard they were taking a vacation- but there hadn't been a good time to bring it up. Really, when was it a good time to ask your smarmy partner in your platonic marriage if you were going to share a bed? Even when they'd been unpacking earlier, and it had been obvious that there was one bed and no couches long enough for either of them, neither Malfoy had said a thing. It was just a strange thing to discuss. So Ginny waited, hoping Draco would come up to bed soon so they could figure it all out. Her husband, unfortunately, had wanted to finish one last game before he came up to bed, so after some time she went to the dresser to pull out her pajamas.

Sleeping in flannel pants and a t-shirt was a time-honored Ginny Weasley tradition. Still, as she'd been thinking about sharing a room with Draco the week before, she'd wondered if she shouldn't buy herself something nicer to wear to bed, so that Draco wouldn't think her even more rough and uncultured than he already thought she was. That idea had eventually been shot down, however; she'd decided that if Draco couldn't handle her old, comfortable pajamas, she didn't really care to have his good opinion. So she changed into pajama bottoms and Chudley Cannons t-shirt and went into the bathroom.

She was in the middle of brushing her teeth when Draco entered the room. Silently he changed into his pajamas in the large closet- blue silk, she noticed with satisfaction, which meant she was right in guessing he wore fancy pajamas- then came to the large bathroom and prepared for bed as well. They finished at the same time and stood together in the doorway of the bathroom, looking over the spacious bed. Draco didn't speak, so after a moment Ginny said, "I guess we're sharing."

"Are you sure?" Draco responded immediately. "I'd hate to get hexed for daring to sleep with you."

"Shut up," Ginny said drily. "It's late, I'm tired, and I'm turning off the lights in about ten seconds, so if you want a bed you'd better get moving."

He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "If you wanted to get me in- what are you doing?"

Ginny looked up at him blankly from where she was climbing under the covers. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"That's the right side of the bed," Draco said as though that should have been obvious. "I always sleep on the right side of the bed."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny asked. "What difference does it make?"

"I've always slept on the right side of the bed," Draco repeated. "And my father always slept on the right side of the bed. I'm sure Malfoy men for generations have slept on the right side of the bed."

"I- fine, Draco. Whatever. Take it." And with that she scooted across the bed. Draco watched her, scowling. "What now?" she demanded.

"You messed up my side," he said calmly.

Ginny looked at him a long moment, then climbed out of bed, got her wand from its resting place on the dresser, and shut it in the bottom drawer with a loud click.

"What was that for?" Draco asked blankly.

"I'm just trying to keep out of the way of temptation," she said resignedly. "I'd hate to start our vacation out by sending you to the hospital."

She crossed back to the bed and climbed under the covers. "What?" demanded Draco, still standing on the other side of the bed. "Now I have to turn off the lights?"

She simply closed her eyes. The lights went out and Ginny felt the bed shift as Draco climbed in next to her. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Joanie," came the sing-song reply.

Ginny opened her eyes and lay still amid the sudden darkness and silence. The bed shifted and she could hear Draco settling in next to her. In actuality he was all the way on the other side of the bed, but her sudden awkwardness at finding herself so near to Draco made her feel like he was much closer. She wondered if he was really as calm as he sounded; she knew that she wasn't. For all her confidence in declaring they should share the bed, she was more than a little nervous about it. It was Draco Malfoy, of all people; despite the month they'd spent as man and wife, she still sometimes felt strange about living with him. Stifling a sigh, she turned toward him.

Looking at him was a mistake. The delicate lines of his face were just visible in the moonlight filtering through the gap in the drapes. What little light was in the room was caught in his hair, fairly glowing in the moonlight. Looking at him, she was suddenly terribly self-conscious. She wished she'd bought herself new pajamas. Nice pajamas. Flattering but not seductive pajamas.

But she was not going to let herself dwell on it. She was going to close her eyes and go to sleep. She was going to sleep calmly on her side of the bed, trying her best not to flail around in the night and end up on his side of the bed, although a part of her mind that she absolutely hated but could not repress suddenly insisted on imagining what it would be like to wake up with his arm strewn carelessly but protectively across her middle.

But of course that would be terrible. You climb into bed with Draco Malfoy and your hormones go into overdrive, she thought with disgust. Get a grip, girl. She turned away from him and closed her eyes, though it didn't make much of a difference because she could feel his presence behind her as clearly as she could feel the Egyptian cotton sheets underneath her fingertips. Stifling a sigh of disgust at her sudden juvenile behavior- just because you're in bed with the most attractive man you know, honestly- she forced herself to relax. It was just a strange situation, that was all. When they were back at Malfoy Manor, it was perfectly easy to pretend they were just roommates, but here, in Switzerland, in a large and rather comfortable bed, it was harder. There was also the fact that here in said comfortable bed in Switzerland, she couldn't ignore that at the end of the day, she was a young woman with a great appreciation for a fine looking man like Draco.

She made a face in the darkness. No more thinking, she told herself firmly. It's time for bed.

An hour later she was singing a different tune. As she'd feared, she was still awake, and as she feared, it was because of Draco. But it was not because she was closer to him now than she'd ever been. No, it was because Draco had been tossing and turning for the last hour and it was making her crazy.

As he turned over once again, Ginny covered her mouth to keep from groaning. Did he always move this much? He was so formal most of the time- she'd half expected him to sleep perfectly still, probably with his hair done, with a perpetual smirk glued to his face. This was certainly not the case now.

Draco turned over again and flopped down hard onto the mattress, and Ginny looked up at the clock. It was after midnight, and she'd been up at six packing. In frustration she stared up at the ceiling and groaned, "Draco, stop moving!"

"I'm sorry," Draco snapped immediately, startling Ginny so much that she actually jumped.

"You're awake?"

"Obviously," Draco said. "Would I be talking if I weren't?"

"Why aren't you asleep?" demanded Ginny.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Draco countered.

"It probably has something to do with your doing tai chi in bed," she said drily.

Draco, surprisingly, didn't take the bait. "I can't get comfortable. Was I keeping you up?"

He spoke calmly, but Ginny picked up something in his tone. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He was silent a moment. "No, I actually don't feel well," he admitted.

"Well, why didn't you say something?" Ginny demanded. "If you're going to be married to a Medi-witch, you might as well take advantage of her. Of it," she corrected quickly, grimacing as she got out of bed to hunt for her wand. Another brilliant Ginny Weasley moment, to make a slip-up that sounded like innuendo while she was sharing her bed with Draco.

Once her wand was free of the drawer, she lit the candles on the night stand, figuring that the full lights would probably make him more uncomfortable than he already was. When she turned back to the bed she gasped; Draco was wearing a pained expression, and his face was flushed and covered with sweat. He'd certainly been telling the truth about not feeling well. "Oh, Draco," she murmured without thinking. "Why didn't you say something?" She wasn't sure if he was going to answer, or if she wanted him to answer, so she pressed on. "I'm going to do something for the pain," she said, and murmured an incantation. Then, patting him on the shoulder, she walked into the bathroom to get a washcloth.

Back in the bedroom, she sat on her side of the bed and leaned over Draco, dabbing gently at his sweat-covered face. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "Still feel the same."

She sat back, surprised. "Nothing? Are you sure?" She frowned in thought. "All right, then." She tried a different spell. "Better?"

He shook his head.

Those were the two most effective pain-killing spells in use in the wizarding medical world. She'd rarely had them both not work, and that was only when the illness or injury was quite serious. Suddenly very concerned, Ginny asked, "Could you describe your symptoms?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm nauseated mostly. My head hurts too."

Ginny frowned. It sounded quite standard. Why weren't her spells for the pain working? It was almost as though this was caused by something other than illness. An idea popped into her mind, one that made her lips twist in a smile, which she tried to hide. "Draco?" she asked, holding out her wand. "Take this and try to do a spell. Something small."

"That'll help," Draco retorted sarcastically, but he took the wand. "Lumos!" Nothing happened.

"Ah," Ginny said, smiling.

"Ah, what?" Draco asked.

"Ah, you're not sick," Ginny explained.

"Oh, excellent," he retorted. "Do tell my body that."

"Do you remember the day we married? The oath I made you swear?"

"What, not to- you're kidding."

"You swore never to sleep in the same room as me. You're suffering the side effects of breaking a wizard's oath."

Draco shook his head while Ginny smiled. Taking her wand back from Draco, she spoke clearly and loudly. "I revoke the section of my oath with Draco Malfoy about our sleeping arrangements."

A brief tingle of magic ran down her spine, and at the same moment, Draco collapsed back onto the bed, taking the deep breaths of one who has recently been relieved of pain. Ginny picked up the washcloth and dabbed his forehead again, and after a moment Draco spoke. "How does that work? I also swore never to touch you. I've touched you before."

Ginny shrugged. "When I said it, I meant in a romantic sense. Maybe the spell picked up on that." She laughed. "So I suppose that means that if you ever do want to touch me romantically, you'll have to tell me first."

Dead silence fell over the room, and Ginny froze, wondering what on earth had possessed her to say something like that. She spoke quickly, trying to fill the awkward silence. "Umm . . . good night, Draco." She put the lights out and placed her wand on the table, then buried her face in the pillow, even though she knew the darkness would hide her expression of embarrassment from Draco.

"Good night, Ginevra," Draco said slowly, and she could hear he was trying not to laugh.

He settled back down next to her, and this time he didn't move. Perhaps, Ginny thought, now she would be able to get to bed. She was nearly asleep when Draco suddenly spoke again.

"Really, Weasley, do you have to breathe that loudly?"

Ginny buried her face in the pillow and groaned.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

There certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world, as there are pretty women to deserve them. - Jane Austen

. . . . . .

Tuesday was spent sightseeing in the beautiful countryside around the chateau. They did it in the Muggle style, actually hiking from place to place, as was popular in the wizard world. Of course some people preferred to use magic, but for many centuries it had been quite stylish for adventurous wizarding tourists to see the landscape as their non-magical brethren did; one got more out of the experience, proponents claimed.

Pansy, of course, hated the idea. “We’re wizards,” she said disgustedly to Calliope when the idea of hiking was first proposed. “We have magic. Why on earth would anyone walk when they could Apparate?” But she went along, of course, because she overheard Draco say that hiking reminded him of trips to the Continent as a boy.

Calliope wasn’t much of a hiker either, but she was willing to try to enjoy it. Elise and Ginny were so sweet that Calliope didn’t feel at all embarrassed if she lagged behind or slowed the group down, and the scenery was beautiful. She would certainly agree that hiking added to the experience. And fortunately, it wasn’t as difficult as she thought, and in the parts where it did get difficult, Draco’s sweet Irish friend was right there to help her along.

She stole a quick glance at Seamus as he handed her his canteen. He was clearly enjoying their excursion. She tore her eyes away from him, embarrassed at watching him so closely. In her mind she could hear her childhood tutor’s prim voice: “It is not ladylike to stare, especially at a man.” And especially not a man she hardly knew, she was sure. But there was something about him that intrigued her. He was so unlike anyone she knew, so open and warm, so unafraid to show what he was feeling. She wished she could be like that, so free with her emotions. She looked back at Seamus and saw that he was smiling at her. Embarrassed, she got up from the rock she’d been resting on and started off down the path. But still, she told herself, it’s good that Draco’s friend turned out to be so nice.

The group finished off their day of hiking by returning after dinner to the hill they’d hiked the day before. Elise had brought sweets and blankets from the house, and they all sat on the grass, wrapped in blankets, and looked at the stars. James was particularly good at astronomy, and he pointed out stars and constellations while the rest of the group listened contentedly and ate what Elise had brought. Calliope listened raptly, staring up at the stars, her knees pulled to her chest. She’d always loved astronomy, though she’d only taken the introductory class at Beauxbatons; the complex equations required to calculate the movement of the stars were simply beyond her.

As she listened to James, she found herself looking around the group. Her eyes fell on Draco and Ginny. What a strange couple they were! Though the mountain air was growing chilly, and though they had the example of James and Elise cuddling together in a large quilt, Draco and Ginny sat wrapped in separate blankets, near each other but not touching- certainly not the usual picture of newlyweds in love. But then, everyone was different; some people didn’t like making public displays of their affection. Still, it seemed strange. Calliope, looking at Pansy, could see that her friend hadn’t noticed it yet, which was good; the last thing Pansy needed was encouragement.

As if reading Calliope’s thoughts, Draco suddenly glanced at Pansy, then scooted closer to his wife. The darkness made it difficult to be sure, but it seemed that Draco leaned over to whisper something in Ginny’s ear. As though in response, Ginny unwrapped the blanket from around her shoulders and spread it on the ground, then she and Draco both sat on it and wrapped his blanket around themselves. Even then, they appeared to barely be touching one another. Calliope shook her head. They were a strange couple, indeed.

On Wednesday they all slept late. Calliope, who was usually up by seven, found the experience quite delicious. When she finally stumbled down the stairs, she found Ginny and Draco, already awake and apparently awake for some time. The rest of their group straggled down over the next hour, Pansy arriving last, just before lunch. Once they had all eaten they split up, agreeing to meet in Eiche for dinner. James and Elise disappeared almost immediately, leaving the other five alone in the living room. Pansy lost no time in sidling up to Draco. “Where are we going, Draco?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice, linking her arm through his. Calliope wondered if she was deliberately ignoring Draco’s look of disgust or if she honestly didn’t see it. The latter was quite possible- Pansy certainly did have a gift for only seeing what she wanted to see.

Draco pulled his arm away from Pansy’s and appeared to be about to say something scathing when Ginny laid a hand on his arm. He turned to her and they shared a long look, at the end of which Draco turned back to Pansy. “All right,” he said, sounding resigned. “We can all go together,” he quickly added, pointing to Calliope and Seamus. Ginny gave Draco another look, this time an amused one, and then they and Seamus and Pansy began to discuss where they might go to spend their afternoon.

Calliope sat back in her armchair, content to let the others talk while she pondered on the scene she had just witnessed. What must it be like, to understand someone as completely as Draco and Ginny understood each other? To be so in tune with another person that words weren’t necessary? She’d been noticing it all week, that strange ability they seemed to have to tell what the other person was feeling. She supposed it must be part of being in love. She smiled to herself. Being in love sounded . . . pleasant.

As her companions kept talking it became clear that they weren’t coming to any conclusion, so Calliope spoke up and timidly suggested that they go to the nearby Muggle resort towns. This idea was immediately seized upon by Ginny and Seamus; Draco and Pansy, however, looked less than enthused about going Muggle for the afternoon. No one came up with a better idea, though, so they all trooped upstairs to change.

When they finally left the house, all looking reasonably convincingly Muggle- except of course for Pansy in her scarlet cloak, but Calliope supposed they’d just have to tell people she was a wealthy eccentric- they Apparated to a wooded area outside Devos, which the Swiss Zauberministerium, as it was called, had designated a safe Apparation point. The roofs of the town were just visible through the trees below them, and Pansy immediately started leading the way. Calliope found herself at the back of the group, but she wasn’t back there alone long; Seamus soon came back and fell into step with her. Calliope felt herself flush ever so lightly. Draco’s friend certainly was friendly.

And he continued to be friendly. Seamus stayed near Calliope all the way into town, through several small, charming shops, and then outside to look at a rather picturesque old fountain. Though she’d was embarrassed to admit it, Calliope rather enjoyed the attention.

It was by the fountain that they lost Ginny and Draco. Calliope wasn’t entirely sure how it happened- she only knew that when Pansy started loudly commenting that she was bored and wanted to leave, Ginny and Draco were no longer there. If it was only Draco, Calliope would have assumed he’d ditched them, but Ginny didn’t seem like the ditching type.

After looking for the Malfoys a while with no luck, they finally gave up and moved on to the next store, Pansy audibly frustrated with this turn of events. She was still complaining several minutes later when Seamus, clearly annoyed, remarked in a deceptively off-hand tone that perhaps they’d slipped off together because they were in need of a good snog. Calliope bit her lip to keep from laughing while Pansy’s face changed from pouty to horrified and then to angry as she realized Seamus was joking. “Just a thought,” he added, and Pansy stalked off in a huff to look at antique clocks.

Calliope wasn’t worried about Pansy actually leaving; for all her arrogance, Pansy hated going places alone. She was obviously annoyed, though, and stayed at least ten steps away from them the rest of the afternoon. Calliope didn’t mind particularly, because it left her free to talk to Seamus, who remained by her side, charming and witty, until dinner.

For dinner they met up with the rest of the group in Eiche, where they discovered that the Malfoys had gone off to find a restroom when they’d all lost each other. They were just finishing dinner when Elise informed them she had found a perfect way to spend the evening: a traditional Swiss concert of alphorns.

“Alphorns?” Draco and Pansy repeated at the same time, then looked at each other quickly, Pansy looking delighted and Draco horrified.

“Yes, alphorns!” Elise said. “It’s really wonderful music, I promise.” Calliope saw Draco and James exchange looks across the table, and James shrugged as though to say, you try talking her out of it.

“I think it sounds lovely,” Calliope said honestly. “I’ve heard them before. It’s really nice.”

“Let’s go, then,” Seamus said. “If Elise and Calliope like it, it must be good.”

“Yes, let’s go,” Draco agreed dutifully, and Ginny smiled at him.

Everyone looked at Pansy, and she sighed heavily. “All right. But it had better be good.”

The concert, held in the Eiche town hall, was given by a musical family called the Danielsons. “That doesn’t sound very Swiss,” said Ginny, filing into the hall behind Calliope and Seamus.

“Not really,” Calliope murmured back. “But they’re certainly dressed Swiss.”

“Yes, that’s never a look I thought would work, but a few of those fellows look quite nice,” Ginny said. “Ooh, look at the one on the end. He’s quite fit, isn’t he?”

Calliope, Seamus and Draco all looked at her. She stared back at them a moment, then smiled in sudden understanding. “But not as fit as my Draco,” she added, a little awkwardly.

“No one’s as fit as your Draco,” her husband replied, looking slightly annoyed. Ginny smiled charmingly at him and slipped her arm around his waist.

The concert was as wonderful as Calliope had been hoping, though it seemed that the others around her might not agree- while Elise looked enraptured, Pansy was sound asleep. Ginny and the three men in their group were obviously trying to listen and enjoy themselves, but it seemed that Swiss alphorn music was not their cup of tea. She snuck a glance at Seamus and smiled. It was sweet of him to try to enjoy it.

The concert ended around nine, and Seamus suggested they go to the building across the street- in England they would have called it a pub, but here in Switzerland Calliope wasn’t sure what it was. Whatever it was, it was called Damiel’s and the sign, which was magically lit up and which changed slowly from German to French to English, claimed to have live music every night. Everyone agreed, Pansy commenting it was good to see some sign of civilization, and they trooped across the street and into Damiel’s.

The place was crowded, but they found a table near the stage, where a tall, lanky young man, dressed in a dark suit that made him look even ganglier, was singing and alternately playing the guitar and violin. It was bizarre music, and the singer had a strange way of moving about and gesturing almost drunkenly, but Seamus seemed absolutely thrilled; apparently this was his kind of scene. Calliope wasn’t sure she liked the music, but Seamus had tried to enjoy the alphorns, so she held her tongue.

When the young man had finished a set and most of the group had left to find a restroom, Calliope watched with interest as Elise approached the stage and addressed the singer. He listened, a thoughtful expression on his face, then nodded. “What was that about?” she asked when Elise returned to the table.

“You’ll see!” Elise said cheerily. “It’s just something I thought would be nice.”

Calliope didn’t find out what it was until several songs later, when the young man on stage stepped up to the microphone. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, the translating spell on the microphone repeating his words in French and German, “it turns out we have a very special couple in our audience.” Calliope began to grin as she realized what Elise had done. “This couple is here on their honeymoon, can you believe it? Can we get a light on them?” Someone raised the front lights a little, and Ginny waved a bit awkwardly as Draco glowered next to her. “I’m going to play them a song, something a little slower, a little more romantic, so all of you out there who are here with your special someone, get up and dance. This is ‘Sylvia,’ dedicated to our two lovebirds, Jenny and Drake. Congratulations, guys.”

Elise shrugged- “I told him your names right!”- and then the music started.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Elise said, grabbing James’ hand, as several other couples stood as well. The rest of the group looked around the table at each other until Elise stalked back toward them. “Ginny, Draco, this is your song,” she said firmly. “You have to dance.”

There was silence a moment, and then Draco turned and slowly offered his hand to Ginny. She took it just as slowly, and they both stood up and then stood looking at each other. “Look at them,” Seamus laughed. “They look like fourth years at the Yule Ball. You’d think they’d never danced together before.”

“Maybe they haven’t,” Calliope replied. “I don’t think Draco likes dancing very well.” As they watched, Draco finally stepped forward and put his hands on Ginny’s waist, and she put her hands on his shoulders, and they began to dance. They both looked so awkward that Calliope and Seamus began to laugh.

Calliope was still laughing when Seamus put his hand over hers. “Dance with me?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Sylvia” was just as strange as the rest of the music had been, but Calliope found she didn’t mind. She and Seamus danced near the Stewarts, who were, as usual, gazing into each other’s eyes, and the Malfoys, who still looked awkward. The three women looked at each other and smiled, and Calliope looked back at Seamus and flushed slightly. It certainly was nice that Seamus had turned out to be so sweet.

Some time much later, the singer took a last bow and began packing up his things. The group of intrepid British travelers on the front row started to do the same while Seamus ran off to the restroom, promising to hurry. Calliope, wandering slowly toward the door, was surprised to see Pansy approaching. “Can I have a word?” she asked.

Calliope shrugged her consent, and Pansy led her outside into the warm Swiss night. “So,” she said bluntly, “I see you and Seamus are getting rather close.”

Calliope laughed a bit awkwardly. “He’s just being nice.”

“I saw you dancing with him. You don’t look that way at a man who’s just being nice.”

“Pansy-”

“Did you know he’s a half-blood?” Pansy cut in.

“Of course,” Calliope responded. “He told me that himself.”

“Now Calliope,” Pansy said, “do you really want to be associating with half-bloods?”

Calliope scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re so old-fashioned, Pansy.”

“If I’m so ridiculous, maybe you’d rather not be in my company.”

“Don’t say that,” Calliope said with a sigh. “You know I value your friendship.”

“Well, if you value it,” Pansy rejoined immediately, “perhaps you should know that I have never had a friend who dated anything less than a pureblood, and I don’t intend to start. Think about that, Calliope.” And then, with a half-smirk and sardonic nod, she left.

Calliope watched her go, fuming inwardly. That bossy, officious woman! To presume to tell her who she could or couldn’t see! Well, Calliope would show her. She would march back to Seamus right now and-

And what? nastily asked the more rational part of her mind. Confess your undying love for him? Tell him he’s worth losing your best friend over? Presume that he’s actually interested? That made her pause. It was true; she had no idea what Seamus felt about her. He’d been attentive, of course, but that was probably because the only other unattached member of their party could be a bit of a terror. It was silly to think that just because he talked to her, he was at all interested in her; after all, she’d only known him a few days. Maybe some people fell that fast, but if they did, it was not for plain, quiet Calliope Galliard.

That was her answer, then: if Seamus didn’t have feelings for her, why would she cast off her best friend for him? After all, Pansy had been her friend when no one else was. They’d been friends for years; how could she give that up for someone she’d only known a few days?

The door opened and the rest of her traveling companions stepped out. Seamus smiled when he saw Calliope and started to walk toward her, but Calliope, mindful Pansy was watching, fell into step between her and James. Pansy smiled at her, but Calliope stared straight ahead, trying to ignore Seamus’ eyes burning holes into her back.

. . . . . .

They got back to the chalet after one. Ginny felt exhausted; it had been a busy week, to say the least, and it certainly didn’t help that she hadn’t slept well since they’d arrived. She cast a disgusted glance toward Draco as they walked upstairs. The man was impossible to sleep with. That he hogged the blankets didn’t surprise her, but who would have guessed he’d turn out to be such a fitful sleeper? He’d wake up six or seven times a night and tell Ginny she was moving too much, or mutter something incoherent, or sometimes just pull the blankets away from her and fall back asleep. It was driving her crazy, and she would be very glad to be home and in her own bed.

Once in her pajamas, Ginny went to the bathroom and began preparing for bed. As tired as she was, she didn’t notice Draco had joined her in the bathroom until he spoke. “Your hair looks nice like that,” he said thoughtfully.

“Don’t be a jerk, Malfoy,” she retorted immediately.

“Pardon me?” he replied, obviously surprised. “How am I being a jerk? I’m serious. Your hair looks nice like that.”

“Like this?” Ginny repeated incredulously, looking at herself in the mirror. Before washing her face she’d pulled her hair back with a clip; it now sat piled messily atop her head, a few curly strands falling down around her face.

“Yeah. I think you look good with your hair up,” Draco said, rather awkwardly.

She looked at him, then began laughing. “So I look better just throwing my hair back than when I spend time on it. Good to know.” Giving her face one last wipe with the washcloth, she took the clip out of her hair and brushed through it a few times.

“Of course,” Draco added, watching her, “you are still a redhead. I think you’re probably the first redhead in the Malfoy family since-”

“Draco,” Ginny cut in exasperatedly as she passed him to leave the bathroom, “have you ever considered doing things without worrying about what your Malfoy ancestors have done? You know, think for yourself for a change?” Shaking her head, she patted him on the shoulder and walked into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, in bed with her eyes closed, Ginny heard Draco close the bathroom door. She expected him to turn off the lights and climb into his side of the bed, so when instead something hit the bed next to her, her eyes flew open in surprise. Draco was leaning over her, his face mere inches from hers, one hand on the bed on either side of her. “You’re right,” he said, while she lay frozen. “I’m going to do something tonight without worrying what my ancestors would have done.”

It took a moment to find her voice. “And what would that be?” she asked, her heart pounding, as she tried not to notice how perfectly gorgeous he was up close.

“Scoot over.”

“And- what?”

“Scoot over. I’m going to sleep on the left side of the bed tonight.”

Ginny stared, open-mouthed. “That’s your big, life-changing idea?”

“I don’t want to change my life. I like my life. But I’m willing to try new things, like sleeping on the left side of the bed. So scoot over.”

“Fine,” Ginny said, and moved to the right side, her heart still pounding. If she couldn’t sleep with Draco most of the time, she could only imagine it was going to be impossible now after that adrenaline rush. Draco turned off the lights and got into bed, and Ginny turned away from him. What had she expected him to do? What had she wanted him to do? That was a subject she didn’t want to address, not while he was lying next to her. She stifled a groan. Why did he have to be so confusing?

He’d always been an interesting case: on the one hand, he had always been one of the most attractive boys at school- the one who all the girls admitted to secretly liking, against all their better judgement. On the other hand, she’d hated him for all the horrible things he’d done. She’d hated being bullied but she’d hated seeing her friends bullied even more, and most of all she’d hated the possibility that the next fight that started- although, she admitted to herself, it wasn’t always Draco who started the fights- would be the one in which someone she cared about got seriously injured. Stifling a sigh, in case he was still awake, she turned her head and looked at him. Her discomfort certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that despite everything, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Sometimes she hated him for that, too.

Well, there was no use worrying about it now, so she turned over and settled in for another long night.

She managed to doze off somehow, only to be awakened several hours later as Draco turned over, taking all the blankets with him. Grimacing in the darkness, she reached out and gently tried to pull the coverlet away from him. Normally it worked, but this time he woke up.

“What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

“You took all the sheets and covers,” she explained calmly.

“Use a warming spell,” he suggested.

“I like having something over me. Otherwise I feel . . . exposed. Besides, if I can use a warming spell, you could just as easily.”

“But- well-”

"You have no good response to that, so just give me some. These are big enough for the both of us.” She tried to pull the coverlet away from him, and when he pulled back, it turned into an all out tug-of-war. Somehow in the midst of scuffling, Ginny ended up back on the left side of the bed, holding the blanket territory she’d won from him.

“Fine,” Draco growled, “but I’m keeping this side of the bed.”

“Fine,” Ginny agreed waspishly. “I like this side better anyway.”

“I’m cold,” he said a moment later. “I usually wrap the sheets around me, but now I can’t.”

“Scoot closer to the middle of the bed,” Ginny suggested sleepily.

“I’m already closer to the middle of the bed. It’s you who’s out on the edge.”

Ginny sighed. “Fine,” she said, and scooted closer to Draco, who immediately pulled the blankets toward him and settled in. Ginny also settled into the bed, trying to ignore the fact that Draco was now so close she could feel his breath stir her hair.

“Good night,” she said softly. Draco was already asleep.

No one felt particularly energetic the next morning, so they all hung out around the house for a while. Ginny was glad, because there was something she was meaning to get to the bottom of: Seamus and Calliope. They were an absolutely adorable couple, and Ginny had been hoping they’d get together; they both deserved some happiness, and they were so perfect for each other. For a while things had seemed to be leaning that direction, but somehow last night things had changed. They’d seemed so close while they were dancing, but then, on the way home, she’d ignored him. Something had happened between the dance and the chateau, and Ginny had a suspicion she knew what- or rather who- it was.

After a moment of searching, Ginny found Calliope and Pansy together in the library. Perfect. “So,” she said conversationally, “that was fun last night.”

“It was,” Calliope said earnestly, while on the sofa Pansy just looked haughtily at her.

“I’m really glad Seamus suggested we go to that pub. That kid is such a sweetheart, don’t you think?”

Bingo. Calliope immediately looked uncomfortable, while Pansy’s sneer became more pronounced. “Yes, he’s very nice,” Calliope said carefully. “But just as a friend.” She looked around miserably a moment, then stood. “I need some water,” she said by way of excusing herself.

“All right,” Ginny said, rounding on Pansy, as soon as Calliope was out of the room, “what did you do?”

“Nothing,” Pansy said sweetly. “Calliope’s a big girl. She can make up her own mind. And if she finally realized she was much better off without that half-blood, that speaks to her sense and taste.”

“Finally realized with some help, I’ll bet,” Ginny muttered as she left the room. Undoubtedly Pansy had been spouting her pureblood ideology to Calliope, making the poor girl do things she didn’t want to do. Ginny knew this because she’d seen the look on Calliope’s face just before she left the room- she felt bad about Seamus. Ginny smiled. Maybe she just needed some encouragement- a few reminders about how wonderful Seamus was. And that was where Ginny stepped in.

They spent the day around the chateau, because, as Seamus said, “Vacations are always more stressful than being at home. Sometimes it’s nice to sit back on a vacation and not do anything.”

“Oh, I agree completely,” Ginny said. She looked at Calliope. “Don’t you agree?” The girl smiled uncomfortably in reply.

After lunch, at Elise’s request, Calliope taught her and Ginny a spell she’d learned at Beauxbatons. “Abeo aqua,” she said, flicking her wand, and the water in Ginny’s drinking glass began to quiver. A few more waves of her wand drew the water from the glass and shaped it into a lily. “Coalesco” hardened it into that shape, and Calliope handed it to Ginny, who marveled at the thing, clearly a lily, but also clearly made of liquid water- it made her fingers wet. She and Elise tried it then; Elise made a passable heart, but Ginny’s tree looked more like a mushroom.

“Too bad Seamus isn’t here,” she said as Elise and Calliope laughed at her tree. “He’d be much better at this kind of thing. He’s such a great wizard- and so smart.”

“Yes, too bad,” Calliope said, laughing uncomfortably.

They had dinner at the chateau, and when Seamus passed her the peas, Ginny beamed at him. “Thank you so much, Seamus,” she said. “You’re so sweet.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Oh. Thanks, Ginny,” he said, slightly subdued, and Ginny’s heart ached for him. He’d been rather quiet all afternoon, ever since Calliope had blown him off, yet again, at lunch. Ginny vowed to double her efforts, and if that didn’t work, have a heart to heart with Calliope in the morning.

It was down by the pool table that Draco finally got sick of her fawning. James, Seamus, and Draco were playing while Ginny and Calliope lounged by the fire. Ginny had just finished remarking to Calliope about what a wonderful pool player Seamus was when Draco left the game and took her hand. “Dearest, can I speak to you upstairs a moment?”

Ginny blinked. Dearest? Hand holding? Something was definitely up. “Of course.”

“Thanks. Calliope, would you like my spot?”

“Oh, sure,” Calliope said, surprised, but Draco was already leading Ginny up the stairs by then.

“Oh, Draco,” Ginny mock sighed as they reached the top of the stairs, “I always knew you really loved me.”

“Ginny,” Draco said, ignoring her completely, “what are you doing?”

“What am I doing with what?” she replied blankly.

“Well, either you’ve fallen in love with Finnegan, or you’ve recently been hired as his new publicity manager.”

“Oh, that,” Ginny said. “I’m just trying to talk him up to Calliope. Pansy said something to her- I don’t know what, but I think it involved the phrase ‘half-blood scum’- and now she’s ignoring Seamus. I just wanted to let her know what a great guy he is- someone to counteract the rampant anti-Seamus sentiments she’s getting from Pansy.”

“You would,” Draco sighed in disgust. “Ginny, Calliope is twenty-two years old. I think she can decide for herself who she fancies.”

“Of course she can decide for herself,” Ginny laughed. “I’m just making sure she has all the facts about the candidates.”

“Ginny,” Draco repeated firmly and a bit condescendingly, “you can’t do this. You can’t control people’s lives.”

“I’m not controlling her life!” Ginny shot back, suddenly angry. “I’m just trying to let her know that your pureblood dogmas aren’t necessarily absolute truth.”

“My pureblood dogmas?” Draco retorted immediately. “Mine? Are you lumping me with Pansy now? Is that what you think of me?”

“No, of course not,” Ginny said, chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say that-”

“Well, at least I mind my own elitist, pureblood business,” Draco said harshly, “rather than trying boss everyone around and control everyone’s lives.”

“Boss everyone around?” Ginny replied incredulously. “Ha! Whose life have I ever tried to control?”

“Mine!” Draco retorted, and then he froze, realizing what he’d just said.

There was a long moment in which Ginny stared at her husband, shocked and hurt, but before she could respond there came the clattering of something being knocked down in the next room. They both turned and caught a glimpse of Pansy, watching them from the doorway, just before she turned and ran. “Great,” Draco said in disgust. “If she heard that then she’s going to think her golden opportunity has just popped up.”

Ginny sighed, putting one hand to her forehead. “It’ll be okay. Tomorrow we’ll just have to make it obvious that we’re madly in love.” She closed her eyes and grimaced- she could feel a headache coming on, as she usually did when she fought with someone. Perhaps it was all those years of fighting Voldemort, but she’d really come to hate conflict. “I’m going to bed,” she said, and walked away from Draco, hoping he didn’t follow. Not only did she not want to deal with him just then, but she also hoped that if didn’t come to bed for a while, she could get some good sleep without him waking her every hour.

Her luck held out and he didn’t follow her. Quickly and miserably she prepared for bed and climbed under the covers- on the left side of the bed- and almost immediately fell asleep.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

That would be the greatest misfortune of all! – to find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! – Jane Austen

. . . . . .

Draco went wearily up to bed that night. His mind was full of everything that had just happened, and everything it entailed: Pansy had heard them fight; she was going to consider it a sign that she had a chance; what would he do to convince her otherwise? And on top of that, his thoughts kept going back to the source of it all- his and Ginny’s fight.

They’d never fought like that. They bickered quite a bit, and they’d even been angry and refused to speak with each other a time or two, but they’d never yelled at each other before. Draco prided himself on his self-control; it was something Lucius had held in high esteem, and in this, like in so many other things, Draco had tried to emulate his father. Of course, for so many years growing up Draco’d had no real self-control at all- his frequent fights with Harry Potter were proof of that- but in the time since then he’d learned to tame his emotions much better. But now he’d gone and shouted at Ginny.

Ginny was asleep when he got to the bedroom. Draco wasn’t sure if he was glad about that; they needed to talk, but he didn’t particularly want to just then. Quickly and quietly he prepared for bed and lay down, noticing with a wry smile that she’d taken the left side. Beside him she was breathing quietly, and he watched her a moment, wondering what he would say to her in the morning.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait that long. He thought he’d been quiet, so he was surprised when Ginny suddenly spoke. “Do I really try to run your life?” she asked bluntly.

“Ginny, I was just angry.”

“But do I?”

He paused a moment, wondering what exactly was the proper response to avoid getting his head bitten off. “You do tend to . . . show a lot of interest in other people’s business,” he said. “But I suppose that’s because you want everyone to be happy, and you feel, somehow, that it’s your responsibility to make sure they are.”

She sighed and turned to face him, resting her head on her arms. “I know, I really do. I guess being the only girl, I was always expected to keep the peace.” She was quiet a moment. “But do I really try to control your life?”

Draco smirked. “You do have a habit of telling me why my ‘high-class upbringing’ is wrong.”

With a groan she buried her face in her pillow, and Draco, knowing he’d said the wrong thing, reached out to touch her shoulder. When she turned to face him, he tried to look comforting. “No, really, you’re fine. You can be a bit nosy sometimes, but really, you’re a good kid.” That was a very un-Draco thing to say and do, so, deciding he’d been nice enough for one night, he turned over. “Now, if you’re done with the pity party, can I go to sleep?”

“Yeah, shut your mouth and go to bed, Draco,” Ginny laughed, obviously cheered by their talk, and Draco, glad the touchy-feely-talk-about-their-feelings part of the evening was over, did just that.

The next morning at breakfast, Elise excitedly informed everyone that there was to be a festival in Eiche that day. As it was their last full day in Switzerland, everyone was eager to be out and about, so they all agreed cheerfully, even Pansy. “These small town festivals are so charming,” she said, and Draco wondered if she’d ever actually been to one. She was probably just saying it to impress, so Draco simply smiled and rubbed Ginny’s hand. As expected, Pansy looked annoyed.

Ginny, seeing this, leaned close to Draco and murmured, “She looks a little angry, doesn’t she?” Apparently, from the outside the gesture looked rather intimate, because Pansy looked even more annoyed. Draco smiled again. He and Ginny had been very obviously cuddling all morning, trying to communicate to Pansy that their fight last night didn’t mean their marriage was in trouble. Thus far, it seemed to be working.

“Well,” Draco said, linking fingers with Ginny, “that settles it. Shall we be off?”

The festival, set to last all day, began with a street fair. Draco and Ginny wandered, hand in hand, through crowds of visitors and vendors and street performers. Apparently the festival was popular with wizards throughout the whole canton of Graubünden, and even into Austria and Italy. The vendors hawked their wares in a dizzying array of languages, and Draco heard even more spoken by the wizards passing them. All in all, it was an exciting spectacle.

Ginny seemed to agree. She was like a little girl in a candy store, dragging Draco from booth to booth to exclaim over countless novelties and trinkets. Her energy and enthusiasm made him laugh. It had been a long time since he’d gotten that excited over anything, and he let himself get swept up in Ginny’s exuberance, buying a good number of the wares she pointed out, until she noticed what he was doing.

“Draco, you bought all that?” she asked incredulously, looking at the bags on his arm.

“I thought you said you liked them.”

Her eyes widened. “Have you been buying everything I pointed out?”

“Only the things I liked, too. You have odd taste sometimes.”

She looked into the bags. “How much did that cost you?” she demanded.

“Not that much,” he said, pulling the bags away from her with a wry grin. “Don’t worry about it. You’re a Malfoy now.”

“Oh, so you can afford anything? Rich prig,” she grumbled, but there was a smile behind her eyes.

“No, you’re a Malfoy now, so let me spoil my wife,” he responded, putting his free hand on her shoulder to steer her toward the food booths. “Come on, let’s eat.”

They bought lunch from a German vendor. Ginny hadn’t ever eaten German food before, but Draco insisted she try it. She liked it, she decided, but she had trouble eating it without making a mess. He watched with a look of amusement as she tried to take a bite of wurst and got mustard on her face. With a smile, he handed her a napkin, wondering all the while at how much he was enjoying this. He was an expert at spending money, but there was something about spending it on other people that made it an entirely different experience, and a rather pleasant one at that.

The group had decided to meet back up at three o’clock, just to touch bases and make sure everyone was all right. Draco and Ginny reached the meeting spot early, and Ginny declared she wanted a rest. “All right,” Draco said, a plan forming in his mind. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He hurried back through the crowd to a booth that had caught his eye earlier: a chocolatier who specialized in the traditional Swiss art that had inspired British chocolate frogs. Several men and women were busily at work in the back. One dark-haired man looked up and smiled as he saw Draco approaching. “Welcome, sir,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “Would you like some of Switzerland’s finest enchanted chocolate?” He gestured at a delicate construction in the hands of a blonde woman working behind him. “This is one of our most popular: a nightingale that sings ‘Clair de Lune’ in a marzipan cage.”

“Actually,” Draco responded, “I’m looking for something for my wife. Something big and really romantic.”

The man smiled. “I have just the thing.” After Draco had payed, the man took out a pen and paper. “So, what is the name on this to be?”

“Ginevra,” Draco said.

“Ah,” said the man. “Ginevra Malfoy. Good French name. Now, if you’d like we can add an enchantment so that when she receives it, it plays a message from you.”

“Yes, I think that might be nice,” Draco said, smiling slowly. “And I know just what to say.”

A few minutes later, Draco was walking back through the crowd, a bit embarrassed at the rather gaudy chocolate creation trailing after him. Wizards he passed kept staring at him, and for good reason: floating a few feet above his head, expertly dodging trees and booths, was a flock of chocolate songbirds, in the middle of which a large chocolate heart surrounded by a wreath of roses. Over the wreath was a ribbon bearing the words, “For my wife Ginevra.” Draco was a bit ashamed of being seen with it, but hopefully Pansy would get the message.

As the tree they were all to meet at came into sight, Draco was relieved to see that Pansy was already there. “Ginny, darling,” he called out as he walked toward the group, “I got you something.”

Ginny stood and stared at the chocolate concoction above him with a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Wow, thanks, sweetheart,” she said, clearly trying not to laugh.

As she took a step toward it, there was a spray of gold and suddenly Draco’s own voice, recorded back at the booth, began speaking, accompanied by harps. “For my wife, Ginevra, the truest girl I’ve ever known.”

As the voice faded away and was replaced by classical music that soon faded out as well, Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “You certainly go all out,” she said, shaking her head. Then, as though remembering the part she was supposed to play, she put her arms around him. “What would I do without you?” she asked, and Draco wasn’t entirely sure that was a compliment.

“That’s so sweet,” Elise sighed.

“You certainly have highly developed tastes, mate,” Seamus said with a grin, and Draco glanced at him over Ginny’s shoulder. Although Draco knew he’d spent the day with Pansy and Calliope, Seamus wasn’t sitting particularly near either of them. Perhaps that was what Ginny had been talking about.

“Well,” Elise said as Ginny released Draco and turned to face her, “Calliope and I wanted to look at an antique shop. Anyone else want to come?”

“Actually, I wanted to get a drink, maybe rest a bit. Is it all right if we meet up later for dinner?” Ginny asked.

“Of course,” Elise said. “Anyone else?”

In the end, everyone except Ginny and Draco went to the antique shop. Draco was glad of it; he saw more than enough antiques at home. He was afraid Pansy might object to him going somewhere without her, but his gift to Ginny seemed to have done its job, and Pansy walked away from him with only an angry glance in Ginny’s direction. He and Ginny went to a nearby diner, and Draco slipped off to the restroom while Ginny and her chocolate entourage found a table.

When he came back to the dining area, he found Ginny at a table by the window, staring thoughtfully at the sky outside. Before he could even sit down, she spoke. “That was low, Malfoy, even for you,” Ginny said, but there was no heat in her voice. If anything, she sounded distracted.

“So we’re back to Malfoy, are we?” he asked with a grin, easing himself into the chair next to her. She smiled too, and Draco shrugged. “Besides, I don’t see it’s so low. Why shouldn’t I give my wife a romantic chocolate creation?” Above him, one of the chocolate birds twittered in agreement.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m not talking about the chocolate. ‘The truest girl I’ve ever known’? Right in front of her?” She shook her head. “It’s low because you used me to hurt Pansy- not just to get her to stop pursuing you, but to really hurt her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Draco scoffed, his face a careful mask of derision.

“It’s ridiculous on your part,” Ginny agreed. “I know you, Draco. You’re not fooling me. I can see how you feel about Pansy.” She paused. “Are you still that upset about her cheating on you? Enough to be spiteful about it five years later?”

Draco was silent a long moment, processing Ginny’s words. He was really quite surprised; she was astute, so much so that he knew a lie wouldn’t work on her now. So he told her the truth. “We’d been seeing each other for two years,” he said, “and she dropped me for Nott. And-” he paused; he wasn’t any good at talking about his feelings- “it came at a really hard time in my life. She was just one in a long list of people I cared about who let me down.” He could see Ginny’s brow furrow in sorrow and concern, and he marveled at her ability to empathize with everyone she met. He remembered the Stewarts’ party, when she’d touched his arm so comfortingly. He wondered if she wanted to do the same thing now. He wondered if he wanted her to. “And now she has the gall to try to start something with me again.” He shrugged. “I suppose I am angry.”

Ginny looked at him curiously. “Did she break your heart?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “I thought so. Looking back, I see now that I was just infatuated, but at the time . . .” He trailed off and pondered a moment. “I guess if not for Theodore and the war, I would’ve married her.”

He could see straightaway that made Ginny uncomfortable, so he added, “Which would have been a disaster. We would have hated each other inside a year.” Which was the truth.

Ginny laughed and shook her head. “Don’t be too unkind to her, Draco. You don’t know what it’s like to be a girl in love. You do stupid things.”

“Like that Valentine troll for your dear Potter?” It slipped out somehow, and Draco immediately regretted it- not because it was rude, but because somehow, he didn’t want Ginny thinking about Potter just then.

Ginny looked at him in surprise, then laughed. “Yes, like my Valentine for Harry.” She shook her head. “That was an awkward stage.”

“So I don’t have to worry about you cheating on me with Potter any time soon?”

“Draco, I hope that by now you realize that I wouldn’t cheat on you, even if it were with the famous Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, I know,” Draco said awkwardly. With any other girl, that would be a cue to kiss her, or at least take her hand, but obviously he couldn’t do that, so he settled on a smile that came out a bit tighter than intended. “Thanks.”

She laughed. “You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy.”

There was an awkward silence a while, but luckily the waiter soon came to take their orders. Ginny ordered a juice and Draco ordered a slice of pie- “What? We’ve been walking a lot today. I’m hungry-” and they chatted companionably while they ate, discussing books and their jobs and how the vacation had been thus far. Draco listened to Ginny talk with interest. Perhaps it was that Weasley stubbornness, but the girl had very strong convictions. He had always respected that in other people- perhaps because he so often didn’t have any convictions at all- and he was pleased to find that there was more to his wife than he’d once thought.

Eventually the conversation turned to Seamus. “I think you were right,” Draco admitted. “I think Calliope has been blowing him off.”

“And that’s . . . good? Bad?”

“I don’t know,” Draco retorted. “I’m just commenting. But if Calliope’s only being that way because of Pansy, then I disapprove.”

“Oh, well then, why don’t we tell Pansy you disapprove?” Ginny asked with a laugh. “I’m sure that if she knows that . . .”

“Can it, Weasley,” Draco said, annoyed. “Come on, let’s go catch the end of the fair.”

Still laughing, Ginny gathered up her things while Draco payed the check, and then they walked together out of the diner, the flock of chocolate birds fluttering slowly behind them.

. . . . . .

They all ate dinner at the same restaurant in Eiche, jokingly remarking that they were becoming regulars there. The restaurant was much more crowded than it had been before, as all of the visitors who had Apparated in for the festival were there eating dinner as well. Ginny was a bit annoyed to find their favorite spot in the town suddenly overrun with tourists, but there were a few advantages to it, too; there were young men there, and Pansy had begun to take notice.

Ginny was rather glad of that. As much as she'd wanted to get Pansy out of her and Draco's business, she'd been surprised to find herself feeling rather sorry for the girl all through dinner. Ever since the chocolate heart affair that afternoon, Pansy had been the very picture of wounded dignity, haughty and proud but obviously sincerely hurt. And Ginny found she could understand that. As much as she disliked Pansy, she could imagine what it must be like for her, to regret losing Draco, to pine for him for so long, only to have some little no one come out of nowhere and steal him away. Of course, Ginny still disliked Pansy, despite all that, but all the same she was glad to see her sometime rival beginning to notice other men.

There were to be fireworks after dinner, and Ginny supposed they'd all watch them together, possibly from the chateau. She was surprised, then, when after dinner Elise informed her and Draco that she knew the perfect spot for them to watch the fireworks from. "It's very secluded and romantic," she told them with a smile.

"Oh," Draco said.

When it became clear he wasn't going to say any more, Ginny spoke up. "But what about the rest of you?"

"Well," Elise began, looking around for the rest of the group, who were scattered about the square in front of the restaurant, "I suppose Pansy and Calliope and Seamus can-" She cut off as she saw one of the young men Pansy had been eyeing approach her and ask if he could buy her a drink.

"And who might you be?" Pansy asked coquettishly.

"Jens Reichmann," said the fellow in a haughty German accent, fiddling with his hands so his large ring flashed in the light. "The third."

"Of the Reichmanns of Thuringen?" Pansy asked, surprised.

"Of course," Jens said.

Pansy smiled demurely. "Then of course I'd love to get a drink with you."

And they walked off together, leaving the Stewarts and Malfoys laughing behind them. "Well, that takes care of that, I guess," Elise said, "but it leaves Calliope and Seamus stuck together tonight . . ." She trailed off and looked at Ginny, who smiled. She smiled back. "Well, we'll see you tonight, then, shall we? Ta ta!"

And with an explanation of the spot Draco and Ginny could watch the fireworks from, and a few words to Calliope and Seamus, Elise and James left, arm in arm. Calliope and Seamus looked at each other uncomfortably a moment and Draco sighed. "Are you playing matchmaker again?" he asked Ginny.

"Of course," she grinned, grabbing his hand. "Now let's get out of here and let them be alone."

She pulled him away from the square and up toward the hills above town. The spot Elise had told them about was by the ruins of an old castle. Neither of them was particularly interested in a romantic spot to watch the fireworks, but they weren't sure what else to do with their time, and Ginny wanted to see the castle, so finding the spot seemed a reasonable thing to do.

The sun was at the far horizon by the time they reached the top of the hill, and Ginny had to squint to see the castle. Still, it was quite beautiful, and they spent a while wandering around the ruins and admiring the beauty. Draco wasn’t particularly interested, which was understandable, considering he’d never lived anywhere but castles- Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts- but he didn’t complain too much as Ginny dragged him around.

They were making their way around the edge of the old kitchen they heard voices. Ginny grabbed Draco’s wrist to stop him from pressing forward. “What?” he said.

“Shh,” she hissed. “That sounded like Calliope, and if she’s here . . .”

Draco seemed to fail to grasp the importance of this. “If she’s here what?” he demanded. Ginny simply shook her head and turned to walk back the way they’d come. It was Draco’s turn to grab her wrist then. “Well, if you want to avoid her,” he said, “I think she’s coming around that corner.”

Ginny squealed and, with lightning-quick reflexes, pulled Draco into a copse of trees just off the path. “We’ll just wait until they pass,” she whispered.

“They?” Draco asked.

Ginny was spared explaining to him when Calliope came into view around the corner of the old granary. Seamus appeared quickly after her, apparently in pursuit. “We’ll just wait until they pass,” Ginny breathed. Unfortunately, Seamus caught up with his target mere yards from where the trees where the Malfoys were hidden and grabbed Calliope’s hand, stopping her in her flight from him. “Can we please just talk?” he demanded.

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Oh, this is fantastic,” she whispered sarcastically.

“Apparently eavesdropping is becoming a favorite family pastime,” Draco commented, and Ginny elbowed him to tell him to be quiet. Fortunately, the couple on the path seemed not to have noticed.

Calliope was staring at the ground, but she nodded, apparently to agree with Seamus’ request. Seamus smiled a little. “Thank you,” he said. He tried to tip her chin up, to make her look at him, but she refused to comply. So he dropped his hand and spoke to the top of her fair head. “Look, I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

She did look up then, and even from so far away Ginny could read the shame in her eyes. “Who told you?” she asked.

He laughed self-deprecatingly. “No one had to tell me. I’ve dealt with this enough before to know what it’s like.” He broke off then, and Ginny couldn’t fight the urge to elbow Draco again.

“What was that for?” he hissed.

“It’s for in case you were ever rude to Seamus,” she whispered.

He was quiet a moment, then: “Yes,” he whispered decidedly.

“What?” she asked.

“Yes, I think at some point in my life I’ve probably been rude to Seamus.”

Ginny covered her face with her hand. “Draco-” she began in exasperation.

“Yes?” he replied after a moment.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Just don’t be surprised if you wake up one morning to find out I’ve killed you.”

He cocked his head and looked at her strangely. “Ginny, darling,” he said, “that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, glaring at him. He was looking away from her and didn’t respond for few moments.

“Ginny,” he finally whispered, nudging her, “they’re kissing.”

Her eyes widening in surprise and delight, Ginny looked quickly back to where Seamus and Calliope stood and saw that they were indeed. “Finally,” she whispered in satisfaction.

Draco looked less enamored with the whole affair. “Is that necessary?” he asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m as fond as anyone of a good snog, but what on earth does she see in that loud-mouthed twat?”

“I might remind you,” she replied drily, allowing herself to speak a little louder because Seamus and Calliope were walking hand in hand down the path away from them, “that you invited that loud-mouthed twat to accompany us on our little jaunt down to Switzerland.”

Draco shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he isn’t a loud-mouthed twat,” he said dismissively.

“Do you know what I think?” Ginny asked as she slipped out of the trees and on to the path.

“No, I don’t know what you think, and I’m probably happier for it.”

“At the risk of repeating myself, shut up,” she said. “What I think is that you like Seamus. You are friends with Seamus. You just won’t admit it.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked, coming out of the trees behind her. “If I say I’m not friends with someone, I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone without knowing it.”

“Without acknowledging it,” she replied as she straightened her clothes and pulled a twig out of her hair. “I mean, come on. You’re the rich and powerful Draco Malfoy. You probably know a ton of people. But out of everyone you could have chosen who would have been thrilled to spend a week at a Swiss chateau, you chose Seamus Finnigan, a ‘loud-mouthed twat.’ How do you explain that?”

Draco shrugged. “I was desperate,” he said.

“Yes, I know you’re desperate,” she said. “What’s that got to do with inviting Seamus?”

“Ha ha,” Draco replied dryly. “You know what I mean.” As though an unspoken agreement had been made, the couple began to slowly meander up the path toward the ruins, carefully, because the sky was beginning to get dark.

After a moment, Ginny said, “You mean Pansy.”

“Yes, Pansy,” Draco replied, shaking his head in mock concern. “Now there’s someone who’s desperate.”

“A little,” Ginny laughed. “What did she think was going to happen this week? I would be so distracted by the scenery that I wouldn’t notice you two sneaking off together?”

“That’s what Calliope was for,” Draco said. “Distraction.” He was quiet a moment, then asked, “Would that have bothered you?”

“What? Being distracted by Calliope?”

Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Me cheating on you.”

“Ah,” Ginny said, then pondered. “Yes, because if it was with Pansy, she’d be so obnoxiously smug about it,” she said finally. Her husband rolled his eyes again and Ginny laughed. “Yes, I would be upset,” she said, “because I would still be stuck married to you- our deal and all- but no Weasley would sit back calmly if their partner was stepping out on them. Too much pride. It’s kind of a family flaw.”

“Yes, I’d definitely say the Weasley pride gets you in trouble,” Draco said. “I landed myself a wife that way.”

They reached the ridge of the hill overlooking the town. This, apparently, was the spot Elise had suggested, so they stopped and sat down on the grass. The sky was quickly darkening, but the hillside was lit by thousands of fairy lights in the trees. On the grass around them couples and families were also preparing for the fireworks- apparently this spot wasn’t as secluded as Elise had thought. They sat in silence for a while, until the moon began to rise, and Ginny found herself fascinated by the way its light played over Draco’s eyes. It was beautiful, and she wanted nothing more just then than to touch him, to run her fingers across the contours of his face. She had another odd moment of understanding and even pitying Pansy, for wanting Draco so much when she would never have him. It was a strange thought, and she was glad when the fireworks began and distracted her from it.

They watched the show in comfortable silence. Ginny, who loved fireworks, had been afraid that the show would have been just another one of the many things that didn’t impress Draco. When she stole a glance at him, though, she was pleased to see that he was thoroughly entranced by the show of lights above him. Suppressing a smile, she turned her attention back to the colors bursting in the night sky.

When the show ended and the people around them began to get up, Draco and Ginny stayed where they were a while, both deep in thought. Draco was the first to break the silence.

“That was nice.”

“It was,” Ginny smiled.

Draco was silent a moment, then said abruptly, “You know I would never cheat on you, right?”

She blinked in surprise. “Where did that come from?” she laughed, then considered his question. “Well, no,” she said slowly. “Honestly, I can’t say I did know that. I guess I do now, though.” She examined his face more closely, wondering what was running through his mind. He was impossible to read, though, as he always was. So she simply smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, a bit uncomfortably.

As he squirmed, she felt a grin coming to her lips. “Draco,” she asked in mock seriousness, “did we just have a moment?”

“What?” he asked.

“You and I,” she replied. “Just now, did we have a moment? For a brief second, did we actually act like a couple? I mean, one who gets along and didn’t get married simply for money?”

“I don’t know-”

“Come on-”

“Fine, sure, we had a moment.”

Ginny laughed. “You’re such a smooth talker.” Nearly everyone was gone by then, so Ginny gestured back down the path. “We should go,” she said. Her husband acquiesced and they began to walk down the path. Emboldened by their moment of closeness, Ginny ran up and jumped onto Draco’s back. “Give me a ride home, Drakey,” she said in the most obnoxious little girl tone she could muster.

“Get off, Ginny. It’s hard enough to see on this dark path without you on my back.”

“Oh, come on,” she said.

He suddenly stumbled over a tree root and fell forward, catching his balance just in time to keep from hitting the ground. “Ginny, get off,” he said sharply and harshly, and she dropped to the ground immediately, feeling as though she had been struck. “Anyway,” he said in that old, harsh tone she’d been hearing less and less over the past weeks, “it’s good we do get along as well as we do, because we’re stuck together for eighteen months.”

“Of course,” Ginny said as she followed after him under the dark trees, still twinkling with fairy lights. Both Malfoys fell silent and they walked along together, Ginny wondering all the while why she suddenly wanted to cry.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Wherever you are you should always be contented, but especially at home, because there you must spend the most of your time. - Jane Austen

. . . . . .

On Saturday morning they left Switzerland. Ginny would have liked to have stayed longer, but one of Elise and Calliope’s uncles was arriving with his family that afternoon, and they had to surrender the chateau to him. So, after finishing breakfast, they all packed their things and magicked their suitcases to float for easy carrying, and then it was time to leave. Elise and James Apparated first, hand in hand, and then Pansy went, still too starry-eyed over her evening with Jens Reichmann the third to notice the arm that Seamus had around Calliope’s waist. The two new lovebirds Apparated next, and then, after checking one last time that the front door was locked, Draco and Ginny followed suit, leaving the chateau still and empty.

On the northern coast of France they caught a return ferry to England. Ginny and Draco sat in stiff silence, listening to Seamus and Calliope, who sat laughing nearby. When the boat docked in Dover, they all bid each other warm farewells- except Pansy, who ignored all of them- and they Apparated home.

When Draco and Ginny went home to Malfoy Manor- Ginny was surprised to find just how much it felt like home- they stood silently in the front hall for a long moment, looking at the house around them. Ginny wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter because just then Bernard approached and ruined the moment. So Ginny went to her room and Draco went to his, and they quickly slipped back into their old lives. Ginny spent the rest of the day at the Manor while Draco went into London to catch up on the work he’d missed. On Sunday Ginny visited her family while Draco took care of manorial business with Bernard and Snape. And by Monday evening, at which point they’d barely said two words to each other all day, Ginny was convinced that any sort of closeness they’d achieved in Switzerland was entirely gone.

This grieved her considerably. For the first month of their marriage, she’d tried to be somewhat amiable- except, of course, when he was being especially vexing- for the sake of a civil atmosphere at home. What she’d found in Switzerland, though, was that she liked him, for his own sake and not for the sake of their marriage. She wanted them to be friends, and she hoped they would remain friends even after they were no longer together. Their relationship, however, seemed to have taken an unfortunate step back.

Ginny considered this for several days, wondering why Draco had stopped being as warm and friendly as he had been, and it wasn’t until lunchtime on Wednesday, when Corbin was remarking on how difficult it was to keep his pet owl happy, that the thought finally occurred to her that she wasn’t making any particular effort, either. “Because friendship is a two-way street, isn’t it?” she remarked suddenly.

Corbin considered her a long moment. “That’s a very caring approach to owl raising,” he said finally.

“Oh, yes, owls. Charming creatures,” Ginny said, and turned back to her meal, feeling rather cheered. Perhaps Draco was distant because she was distant, too. She promised herself that the first thing she’d do when she got home was to greet him warmly and ask how his day was.

She never got the chance. When she got back to Malfoy Manor that evening, Draco met her at the door, a suitcase in one hand and a garment bag in the other. “I have to leave,” he told her.

There was a surprised moment’s pause. “What?” Ginny asked, when she found her voice.

“To France,” he explained. “I’ve been asked to go along on a diplomatic visit.”

“Oh,” Ginny replied in sudden understanding. “Right. Because of your job in International Cooperation.”

“They wanted someone familiar with the French Ministry, and that’s my area of expertise.” His face had its usual bland expression as he spoke, but as he looked at her a spark of amusement leapt into his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”

She blushed a little. “Honestly . . .” she said with a shrug, gesturing at his suitcase and letting him fill in the gaps.

He laughed, the first time he’d done so around her since Switzerland. “I bet that was heartrending.”

“Actually, I was just excited that I got the house.”

“Dream on, Weasel,” he retorted, and pulled out his wand. “I’ll be home some time Saturday.”

“I hope you have fun in France,” Ginny said.

“Not likely,” he scoffed. “We’re going to the president’s summer home in Corsica, off the southern coast. That means two boat rides each way.”

“Are their offices there?” she asked. “Why would you go to his home?”

That was the wrong thing to ask, it seemed, because Draco sobered quickly. “We do things like this all the time,” he said off-handedly, but Ginny had seen the flicker of worry that danced across his face. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but he spoke first. “I’d better get going.”

Remembering her vow to be friendly, she smiled. “Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks,” he said, and perhaps he could feel how unaccustomedly nice he sounded, because he added, “Try not to burn the place down.”

So Ginny gave him her best Pansy impersonation. “I’ll miss you, Drakey,” she simpered.

He made a face at her and left. Ginny stood at the door and watched him Apparate, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her, glad that they seemed to be talking again. But she still wondered what could be worrying him.

She ate dinner by herself and spent the evening doing paperwork she’d brought home from St. Mungo’s. Everything was quiet and empty; not even the house elves could be heard. As she climbed into bed, she noticed how oppressively dark and still the house was, and as she pondered this, she realized it was because Draco was gone.

This surprised her, that she would notice his absence. Of course, she’d felt alone the first night back from Switzerland, but that was because she had her bed to herself again; it made sense she would notice the change. And she had noticed it quite a bit. Her bed seemed so huge now that it was empty. She found she’d gotten used to having Draco next to her, used to the sound of his breathing. She’d even gotten used to him waking up continually throughout the night. Sleeping alone now seemed strange.

But what she didn’t expect was to feel so alone with the next room standing empty. Perhaps her joking comment would turn out to be true, and she would miss Draco. Stifling a sigh, she turned to look at the moonlight spilling over her pillow and wished earnestly that Draco was lying next to her.

Not wanting to spend another evening in such solitude, she decided during dinner on Thursday that she needed to get out for the evening. She was just wondering what to do when a knock came at the front door. A moment later she heard it creak open, and then Bernard appeared at the dining room door, bowed deeply, and announced the arrival of one Neville Longbottom.

Delighted, Ginny dropped her napkin on the table and flew into the entry hall, where Neville stood awkwardly, looking very out of place among the ornate furnishings. “Neville!” she laughed, engulfing her friend in a bear hug.

“Gin!” he exclaimed, horrified. “You shouldn’t do that!” He twisted away from her, looking around frantically.

Ginny just laughed again. “Draco’s not home,” she assured him. “Besides, he certainly couldn’t object to my hugging one of my best friends.”

Neville grinned, absurdly pleased, and Ginny took his arm. “Do you have time to stay? I want to show you around.”

He acquiesced, and she gave him the grand tour. Then, since it was still light out, she took him to the garden, where according to Draco the house elves grew a number of very rare plants. She knew nothing of plants herself, except those that pertained to healing, but she knew Neville would be interested.

Indeed he was interested, and Ginny watched with a smile as he examined a plant with large, translucent leaves. She should have asked him, as well as Colin and Luna, to visit her weeks ago, but after dealing with her family so much for the first few weeks, the idea hadn’t even appealed to her. And they, being the good friends they were, were willing to let her take her time. But now, finally settled in and finally convinced that Draco wouldn’t mind her going out with her friends, she found she wanted very much to spend some time with all of them. She told Neville as much.

“That’s what I came here about,” he replied as he straightened and wiped his dirty hands on his trousers, leaving dark smears on the gray cloth. Ginny stifled a laugh and was glad to know Neville never changed.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember Ralph Bunker?” Neville asked.

“Ralph- oh, Colin’s friend with the fake accent?” Ginny laughed. “How could I forget?”

Neville shook his head and made a face. “I know. But apparently he’s finally written a play that someone wants to produce.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, it’s a tiny Muggle theatre, but it is only a few tube stops from the West End,” Neville said, a wry smile on his face, because Neville had a sense of humor few people knew about.

“Well, congratulations, Ralph,” Ginny smiled. “And you’re going to see it?”

“Ralph gave Colin some comp tickets- only today, so sorry about the short notice- and there’s enough for you. And Draco, if he wants to go.”

“Draco’s away on business until Saturday,” Ginny replied. “But I’d love to come.”

“Great,” Neville smiled. “Do you want the ticket we meant for Draco anyway? Colin and I are both bringing dates, so if you wanted to bring a friend or something . . .”

“Sure, I’ll see about finding someone,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Neville paused, then, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry we haven’t hung out lately,” he said finally. “We wanted to, but we figured that with you married . . . and with Draco-”

He cut off, clearly embarrassed about nearly maligning Draco in front of his wife, and Ginny grinned wryly and finished his sentence. “And with Draco being Draco, you mean?”

Flushing red, Neville shrugged, and Ginny chuckled. “He’s not as bad as you might think, Neville.”

“I hope not,” Neville said wisely. “You married him, after all.” Ginny made a face at him, and the two friends went inside for a drink.

Immediately after Neville’s departure, Ginny Flooed Luna and asked if she’d like to go to the play. Luna seemed delighted and immediately launched into a explanation of the Muggle Labor Party’s conspiracy to control London theatre. Ginny took that as a yes.

So, Friday night, she and Luna met the rest of the party at a wizard pub around the corner from the theater. Neville, dressed in those formal robes that always looked out of place on him, was standing with his date, a quiet girl named Olive, who didn’t seem like she enjoyed being there at all. “Gran set us up,” Neville told Ginny later. “She and Olive’s mum are friends.”

Colin’s date, by stark contrast, was entirely too enthusiastic and entirely too familiar to Ginny. It was Romilda Vane, their old classmate, clinging possessively to Colin’s arm- though that didn’t deter her, Ginny noticed with amusement, from asking a bit poutily why Draco wasn’t there. Ginny couldn’t tell if Colin noticed or not; he looked a bit ill at ease, but then he usually did.

After brief introductions had been made, the group left the pub and walked down to the theater, a building so small and dismal they barely noticed it behind its rather garish neon sign. And considering the dreary building, it was really no surprise that the play was awful. Ginny had expected it to be, of course, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual badness of it. She found herself feeling rather glad Draco hadn’t come; he would only have laughed.

When the curtain finally fell to a polite smattering of applause, the group looked at each other a long moment, no one wanting to be the first to comment. “Well,” Luna said after a moment’s thought, “I can definitely see how the Labor Party had a hand in that.”

Ginny and Neville both laughed, which seemed to irritate Neville’s date somewhat, so Ginny quickly spoken up. “Why don’t we head back to that pub we met at and catch up? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys.”

Neville looked to Olive, who shrugged disdainfully, and Romilda’s enthusiastic expression made it clear she agreed. “All right,” Colin said after looking around. “But first I have to go see Ralph. I promised I would.”

“Oh, great,” said Olive loudly, and Ginny made a face at her back as they followed Colin down the aisle.

After a moment, she spoke to Luna. “How have you been?”

“Very well, thanks,” Luna responded somewhat airily. “My work at the newspaper keeps me busy. And Harry’s doing well,” she added suddenly.

“Is he?” Ginny asked, wondering where that had come from.

“Yes, mostly,” Luna said. “I see him quite often now that I’m The Quibbler’s Ministry correspondent.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“I think your marriage upset him,” Luna said in one of her characteristic blunt statements. “He seemed agitated whenever anyone mentioned it for weeks afterward.”

Ginny grimaced. “For weeks? Really?”

Luna nodded. “Most people fall over themselves to adore him. The fact that you spurned him was quite an eye-opener, I think.”

“I think my marriage upset a lot of people,” Ginny said, shaking her head, as she and Luna followed the rest of their group backstage to find Ralph.

“You’re twenty-three years old,” Luna pointed out. “If you were a Bavarian pygmy, you’d be considered middle-aged. You’re old enough to make these decisions on your own.”

“It’s not the age,” Ginny said with a smile, fiddling absent-mindedly with a watering can on the prop table. “I just really hated upsetting my family.”

“Family is so vitally important, isn’t it?” responded Luna airily. “They have such an influence on you when you’re young.” After a moment, she added, “What’s Draco’s family like?”

For a moment Ginny searched for words to describe the Malfoys without painting them as evil, but finally giving up, she said simply, “They’re dead.”

“Poor boy,” Luna said, shaking her head.

“Poor boy?” Ginny repeated. “Yes, I suppose it is sad about his parents.” The word that she actually used when thinking about Lucius’ death was “fortunate,” but then she was thinking of him only as a Death Eater, not as Draco’s father.

“Very,” Luna replied. “He has no family left. I looked up his relations when I was researching the family for a Quibbler article, and the only ones who aren’t dead are the Tonkses, and they don’t really get along with him.” She observed Ginny a moment, her head cocked to one side, thimble earrings swinging. “He’s so lucky to have you.”

Startled, Ginny opened her mouth but was saved from answering when Colin brought Ralph around to introduce to everyone. “Interesting play,” she said weakly when he shook her hand.

“Quite,” Luna popped in, looking the young man up and down. “So, how does your party feel about the Prime Minister’s stand on censorship?”

Ginny was still laughing at the look on Ralph’s face ten minutes later, when their group had gathered at the pub down the street. Ralph clearly didn’t even know who the Prime Minister was, let alone how he felt about any political issues. That was what she loved about Luna- there was never a dull moment, because she was not afraid to say anything.

Of course, that could always make things more uncomfortable, such as when she decided to analyze Draco. But Luna’s words did have the fortunate effect of making Ginny think about Draco’s family life. She found that she still sometimes, when fighting with Draco, found herself comparing him to Ron or to Harry. But Draco wasn’t like them. He had an entire childhood of bad influence from his father that he had to fight in order to be good. Really, it showed how strong he was.

Perhaps it was all this thinking about Draco that led her to say what she did at the pub. But, looking back on it, she really felt that she had been provoked. The problem wasn’t any of her friends, who were all jovial and talkative at the pub. The problem wasn’t even Romilda Vane, who continued to express how very sorry she was Draco hadn’t been able to come, and exactly how rich was he, by the way? No, it all began with quiet little Olive, who barely said a word but who’d been shooting strange looks at Ginny all night. It bothered Ginny a little, but not knowing what to do about it, she simply ignored the girl.

It wasn’t until some time later that Ginny realized how she’d earned Olive’s dislike. They were all discussing their old friends the Patils, who had both been seriously injured in an attack during the war. “Yes, that attack,” Olive said suddenly, looking hard at Ginny. “It was led by Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t it?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise, but it was Colin who replied. “It was,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Just pointing out that he did a lot of damage during the war,” Olive said with a careful shrug. “The Patils are friends of mine, and I’ve always thought it was dreadful, what that man did to them.”

“Everyone thinks it’s dreadful,” Neville responded evenly, shooting a glance at Ginny.

“Perhaps not everyone,” the girl responded pointedly. “I think some people have forgiven the Malfoys very quickly.”

“The Malfoys?” Ginny shot back immediately. “I thought we were talking about Lucius. When did all the Malfoys get wrapped up in this?”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean that,” said Romilda unexpectedly, and Ginny wondered if she was trying to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers, or if she really was stupid enough to think that Olive hadn’t meant what she’d said. “After all, everyone knows Draco fought on our side.” She smiled beatifically and Colin shot her an appreciative look.

“Yes, but do we really know why?” Olive retorted, ignoring the looks Neville was giving her. She’d obviously been waiting to say this all night and wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her righteous indignation. “Everyone says he just wanted to keep his house and money.”

“What?” Ginny nearly exploded, then forced herself to calm down. “May I remind you that this is my husband you’re maligning?”

“Well, obviously you need to be set straight,” Olive said superiorly. “A lot of people were very upset when you married him, and there’s been a lot of talk about how he managed to get you into it. You come from a family that many people have looked up to since the war, and to align yourself with a family of Death Eaters-”

“Draco’s not a Death Eater!” Ginny shot back, louder than she’d intended to, and several patrons at the bar looked over in surprise. “He never was, and he never will be, so stop saying that!” Through her rising anger, she vaguely registered the thought that Olive was only saying things she herself had thought two months ago, but suddenly to hear a stranger speak ill of Draco was too much to bear. She paused a moment to collect herself, then said in a calmer voice, “You don’t know him. He’s a wonderful person. He’s thoughtful, and intelligent, and considerate, and loyal, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He never even considered becoming a Death Eater. So go back to all those people that you claim keep wasting their time thinking about my marriage, and tell them that Draco’s not his father, and that I am with him now because I care about him.” She stood and gathered her things, suddenly eager to be home at Malfoy Manor. “Colin, Neville, thanks for the invitation. Luna, Romilda, good to see you again.” The two men looked concerned and the two women smiled jovially back at her as she pulled her wand out. Just before Apparating, she leaned over the table toward Olive. “And by the way, he didn’t ‘get me’ into this marriage. I proposed to him. And you can tell that to all your gossiping friends.”

As she Apparated, she reflected with amusement that she’d been using that half-lie a lot lately. And as she looked up the long stairway in the front hall of the Manor, she reflected with surprise on the fact that she’d meant everything else she’d said. Not wanting to dwell on this too long, she hurried upstairs to bed, thinking smilingly to herself that Draco would be home the next day.

. . . . . .

Early Saturday evening, Draco stepped, for what felt like the twentieth time in the last few weeks, from the ferry to the dock. Once off the ship, he set his luggage down for a moment, catching his breath before he tried to Apparate. He was tired- tired of travel, tired of French government officials, and most of all, tired of boats.

Unfortunately, he was not free yet; there was still a good deal to do to follow up their trip, so much so that one of his coworkers, a man called Wilde, was returning to the Manor with him to discuss several matters that hadn’t been resolved. Draco was annoyed at this intrusion on his time, but at least if he took care of things now he would have Sunday all to himself.

He stretched his arms as he and Wilde bid farewell to their co-workers, also trudging onto the docks and disappearing with loud cracks. They all looked as tired as Draco felt, all exhausted from a trying visit. Draco stifled a sigh. There was trouble brewing in France, trouble that could affect all of them, and they’d spent the whole week trying desperately to avoid it. And at the end of the visit, he couldn’t honestly say that they’d really achieved what they set out to do. It was frustrating, and he could see why his compatriots looked so discouraged. They all seemed cheered, though, at going home, because they were going home to their families. And it wasn’t until Draco and Wilde had Apparated to the Manor that Draco realized that for the first time in his professional life, he was doing the same.

The thought made a small smile cross his face as he set down his luggage and stretched his arms. It was comforting, in a way, to see lights twinkling merrily out of the windows of the Manor- especially as “merry” was not a word he often used to describe the house. Of course, besides the time he stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place, he’d never before come home to an empty, dark house, but coming home to a house full of house elves was not nearly as satisfying as coming home to his wife, even if that wife was Ginny Weasley, who only married him for money and to spite her family.

“This is it, eh, Malfoy?” Wilde said, looking Malfoy Manor up and down appreciatively. “This is quite a nice little setup. And a lot of room, just for you.”

“And my wife,” Draco corrected as he walked up the front steps and opened the door.

“Oh, of course,” Wilde said. “That little Weasley girl, right?”

Draco set down his luggage and sighed contentedly. It was so nice to be home where it was warm and familiar, and he smiled as he hung up his cloak and motioned for Wilde to do the same. “Her name’s Ginny,” he said, and saying her name made him suddenly eager to see her. So he crossed the hall to the bottom of the stairs and called her name.

A few moments later she appeared at the top of the stairs, grinning. “Draco, you’re home!” she said as she hurried down the stairs. Her eyes must have fallen on Wilde, then, because she looked surprised for a brief moment. “And you’ve brought a guest!” She hurried down the last few steps and launched herself into Draco’s arms, apparently eager to keep up their charade, even in front of a total stranger. But she did really seem glad to see him, which was fine by Draco, because he was glad to see her.

He hugged her tightly a long moment, then pulled away to introduce Wilde, though he kept one arm around his wife’s waist. He’d found in Switzerland that it was a very comfortable place for his arm to go. After introductions, he explained, “Mr. Wilde and I have some business from France we need to finish tonight.”

“But you just got home!” Ginny responded immediately, sounding quite sincere. Draco hid a smile. She really was a very good actress.

“I know. But I’ll hurry.”

“All right,” Ginny sighed. “There’s dinner waiting for you. And I’m sure there’s enough for Mr. Wilde, too, if he’s hungry.”

“Thank you, darling,” Draco said, and kissed her cheek for good measure. She smiled at him and, after bidding Wilde farewell, disappeared back up the stairs.

It was nearly eleven before Wilde finally left and Draco was finally able to collapse on his bed. He lay there a few moments, staring at the ceiling, then crossed the room and knocked on Ginny’s door. There was no answer. Unsure of whether she was angry with him or just preoccupied, he poked his head in. The room was empty, and from the sounds coming from the bathroom, Draco deduced that she was in the shower. So he sat down on her bed to wait.

A few minutes later the water stopped and Ginny came out the bathroom in her pajamas. “Draco,” she said, surprised. “Welcome to my bed.”

“Thanks,” he said seriously. “You don’t mind me taking it, do you?”

“As long as I get it back eventually,” she laughed. “What are you doing in here?”

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier,” he explained.

Ginny seemed surprised by that, but then she smiled, almost shyly. “All right. How was France, then?”

“It was all right,” he replied, watching as she picked her wand up off her dresser and used it to dry her hair. “I mean, France is always beautiful this time of year-”

“Always,” Ginny agreed.

“-so it was nice to be there, but it was still a working trip.”

Ginny placed her wand back on the dresser and came to sit on the floor beside him, leaning against the bed. “That’s too bad,” she said. “But was it a successful working trip? Did you get whatever it was you were worrying about taken care of?”

Rather surprised that she’d picked up on his concern, Draco examined his wife for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. The Department of International Cooperation had protocol, of course, about who could and couldn’t be told about certain events, but he’d never paid attention to it; he’d never had anyone he wanted to tell before. In the end, he decided it was wisest to stay silent and not risk saying something Ginny wasn’t meant to hear. So he simply shrugged. “It was a step in the right direction,” he answered truthfully. “How was your week?”

At that, Ginny laughed. “Well,” she said, smiling, “let me tell you about my evening on Friday.” She went on to tell him about the evening she’d spent with her friends at a London play, and the argument she’d gotten in with Neville Longbottom’s date. As she explained the girl’s harsh words against the Malfoys, Draco frowned a little- would he never escape comparisons with his father?- but that quickly turned to a smile as Ginny told him of her reply.

“You really told her off for me?” he asked, laughing.

“Well, for both of us,” Ginny shrugged. “If you were a Death Eater, that would certainly reflect poorly on me, too.”

“Of course,” Draco said, leaning back against Ginny’s pillows. “Well, I guess I don’t have to be too grateful, then.”

Ginny lightly hit his arm, and Draco pulled a face at her, which quickly turned into a look of surprise as a sudden thought hit him. “I almost forgot, he said, sitting up. “Speaking of Friday nights, keep this coming Friday open.”

“Let me guess,” Ginny said. “Good theater? Or is there such a thing? I’ve forgotten.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you let Colin Creevey pick your play,” Draco said primly. “Honestly, he used to consider Potter-watching great entertainment. You expect him to know good theater?”

“It’s true. He has awful taste,” Ginny agreed solemnly. “I mean, he used to think you were one of the school’s top Quidditch players.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to hear my news or not?”

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Please, tell me, what’s happening next Friday?”

“A ball, thrown by the Ministry, for members of the French ministry.”

“Ooh, a ball,” Ginny said, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t been to a proper ball since the Yule Ball. If that can be considered proper.”

“It can’t,” Draco immediately informed her. “This is going to be quite fancy. You’ll probably need to buy a new dress for it. Elise is going; I bet she’d love to take you shopping.”

“I bet she would,” Ginny laughed. “Is it at the Ministry?”

“No, it’ll be in France. Since it’s for the French, we thought we’d give them the short ride home.”

Ginny leaned back and sighed. “A ball in France, a new gown- being married to you does occasionally have its perks, Draco.”

“Occasionally?” he demanded. “What about the fact that you’re with me every day of your life? That seems like a pretty consistent perk. I would think any girl would love that.”

“And yet you only attract gold diggers,” Ginny said with a sigh.

There was a moment of stunned silence while Draco stared and Ginny’s eyes widened, as though she’d just realized what she said. Draco was the first to respond. “Ginevra Molly Weasley Malfoy!” he exclaimed, shocked. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Neither can I,” Ginny said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to-”

She broke off as Draco burst into laughter. “Ginny,” he said, throwing a pillow at her, “it makes me sad that no one knows how truly evil you can be.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Ginny said wryly, and threw the pillow back at Draco as they both lapsed into silence. Draco supposed he could go to bed, but he didn’t want to just yet. So he turned onto his side to look at Ginny and said, “So, you really think Romilda Vane wants me?”

That immediately became their nightly tradition. Before going to bed each night, Draco would go into Ginny’s room and they would talk- sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes for much longer than that. Draco was glad to have a chance to talk to Ginny; they had become rather good friends in Switzerland, he thought, but something about returning home had spoiled that for them. Now, though, they had a few minutes to talk together, uninterrupted by house elves or visitors or owls or paperwork.

Those few minutes they had together turned out to be quite a boon, because for the next week Draco found himself compelled to stay at work late for meetings and extra paperwork. The department was eager to have their ball a success, and every employee familiar with France was roped into helping with everything from discerning which members of the French government were mostly likely to be sympathetic to their cause to deciding what should be served at dinner.

When Draco got home late Thursday night, Ginny pounced on him as soon as he’d changed into his pajamas and dragged him to her wardrobe to see the dress she and Elise had bought. Draco didn’t know a lot about dresses, but it seemed similar to dresses he’d seen other women wear, which he assumed was a good sign, so he told Ginny he liked it. As this seemed to please her, he decided it had been a good answer.

“But I’m not sure about the shoes,” Ginny said, pulling out a pair of strappy stilettos. “Are they too tall?”

Draco shrugged. “As long as you can waltz in them, I’d say they’re fine.”

The shoes fell to the floor with a thud. “Waltz? We have to waltz?”

“It’s a ball,” Draco said, feeling as though this should have been obvious. “What did you expect?”

“I expected it would be like the Stewarts’ party,” Ginny rejoined immediately. “We didn’t dance there?”

“Ah, but that was not a ball,” Draco replied. “This will have dinner and dancing and the whole formal affair. You really didn’t know?”

“You didn’t tell me,” Ginny shot back. “Draco, I can’t dance! Not like that, anyway.”

“You went to the Yule Ball.”

“Ten years ago,” Ginny retorted. “I don’t remember that silly dance we did at all.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, then shut it silently. He was exhausted from a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep, but the ball was the next day, and Ginny needed to learn to dance. So he would teach her. “Come on,” he said, walking to the door.

“Where are we going?” Ginny asked, hurrying after him.

“To teach you to dance.”

They went to the top floor of the Manor, to a large corner room that Draco knew was empty. It had always been empty, because Lucius didn’t like the way the ceiling slanted with the roof, but Draco rather liked it. As they walked in, he pulled his wand out to light the lamps, but as his eyes adjusted and he saw how much moonlight was coming in through the skylights- courtesy of a remodel by Draco’s grandmother- he changed his mind and put his wand back.

“Now,” he said, taking Ginny’s hand and leading her to the center of the room, “put that hand on my shoulder and leave that one up here. Stand up straight, feet together. Now, step backward with that foot.” There was a thud as Ginny ran straight into him “Ginny,” Draco asked, “which way is backward?”

“Oh, you mean my backward,” Ginny said sheepishly.

“Yes,” Draco said, stifling a sigh. “Your backward. Now, try again.”

It took some doing, but before long Ginny could do a respectable basic step. “Good!” Draco complimented. “Now, try to keep doing this step over and over.”

Ginny nodded and, eyes down on her feet, began to rehearse the steps. After a moment, he realized that she was softly saying to herself, “One-two-three, one-two three.”

It was the only sound in the room besides their soft footsteps on the floor. Draco smiled to himself as he looked down at her bent head. It reminded him of when he learned to dance, and of the way he and his mother would waltz together in the ballroom after his lessons. She would never reprimand him for looking at his feet, although it made his dancing teacher angry. So he didn’t tell Ginny to look up; he simply looked down at her auburn hair and marveled at how different his two dance partners were. Narcissa was always elegant. He had never seen a hair out of place on her head, and she was always dressed to the nines- she would never have been caught in the t-shirt and purple pajama pants Ginny was wearing, and she never would have left her bedroom with her hair in such a state. And yet in one way they were the same: dancing with them made him feel safe.

“I think I’ve got it,” Ginny said suddenly, her feet still moving carefully across the floor.

“That looks good,” Draco said, and then was silent as Ginny looked up into his eyes and smiled. Her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup, but as she looked at him the moonlight came slanting through the windows and fell across her face, and he caught his breath; it surprised him that he’d never realized that she was beautiful. That threw him a bit; he was not in the habit of finding girls like her attractive, and yet there she stood, innocent and unassuming and lovely. He thought briefly that he ought to tell her, but that seemed strange so he simply said, “You’ll do fine tomorrow.”

“Or today,” she grinned. “What time is it?”

Draco checked his watch. “Time for bed,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”

Ginny linked her arm through his as they walked out of the room. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said.

“Well,” Draco said modestly, “I just didn’t want you to embarrass me in front of all of France.”

“Draco Malfoy,” said Ginny, “you say the sweetest things.”

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Liking is probably the best form of ownership, and ownership is the worst form of liking. - Jose Saramago

. . . . . .

As soon as the clock hit five o'clock on Friday afternoon, Ginny grabbed her things and tore out of St. Mungo's. She made it back to Malfoy Manor and up to her room so fast that she was stepping out of the shower by the time Draco got home. On any other day she might have poked her head into his bedroom to say hello, but today she was on a mission, and the sound of his footsteps in the other room didn't even slow her down as she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and dried her hair. The ferry for France left at a quarter to six, and Ginny had a lot to do- it was her first real ball, and she intended to be perfect.

Her record-time shower had given her plenty of time to fuss with her appearance, which was fortunate, as she needed all the time she could get; hair and makeup were definitely not her strong suit. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to ask Elise how she ought to wear her hair. Her friend had responded with her usual exuberance, examining Ginny and the dress from all angles, trying a dozen different hair charms, and finally settling on a style with an enthusiastic "A ha!" And then she'd spent nearly ten minutes going over the charm with Ginny until she was satisfied Ginny could do it on her hair quickly.

Ginny found doing her makeup significantly more difficult; she'd only ever bothered to learn the most basic of spells for it, and even with those she had only passable ability. When she tried the spell Elise had recommended, she discovered that applying makeup by magic required a careful hand or she ended up looking ridiculous. It took several minutes of careful spell casting before she got her makeup the way she wanted it. Despite all the control the makeup spell took, Ginny still preferred it to applying makeup the Muggle way- it was less expensive, and magical makeup didn't smudge or run when wet.

Once her hair and makeup were finally perfect, she stepped carefully into her dress, and then, while the self-latching buttons closed themselves all up her back, she slipped on her heels and picked up her matching handbag. Then she was done; she even had several minutes to spare. Pleased with herself, she moved to the corner to look in the full-length mirror and see the final result of all her work.

What she saw surprised her into breathless pleasure. Elise had a knack for clothing, and the dress she'd picked for Ginny was beautiful- a full-skirted, cream-colored frock that set off her skin beautifully and made her look graceful and slender. And Ginny had managed to get her hair and makeup to behave; in short, she was as close to perfection as she supposed she could expect.

She was very glad of this; she'd been worried about looking good at the ball since she'd heard about it, and several times in the last week, she'd awoken in the dead of night from dreams in which she found herself at the ball in her pajamas or her work robes or, in one particularly strange dream, a lavender raincoat and matching galoshes.

In the back of her mind she knew it was silly and vain to be so caught up with her appearance, but a lot was riding on it: for one thing, she knew very well that many people at the ball that night would have heard about Draco Malfoy's Weasley wife and would want to meet her. For another, she couldn't help but remember that night when she'd gone to the Stewarts' party with Draco and he'd criticized her hair. She didn't want tonight to go the same way, and she hoped Draco would notice that she'd tried to look good for him.

The last thing she did was slip on her wedding ring, which she'd taken off to shower. Not only did she need it to play the part of Mrs. Malfoy to the hilt, but she'd found that she'd gotten used to it. For the first month of marriage, she'd found the ring a bit cumbersome, and she was constantly forgetting it in different places. Recently, though, she'd become very attached to it-in a large part because it looked so well on her finger. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned, if it could really be called owning, and it wasn't until it was back sparkling on her finger that she felt completely ready to go to the ball.

Then, finally convinced she was perfect, she knocked on the door to Draco's room. "I'm ready!" she called. There was no answer, and as she poked her head in she realized he was already finished dressing and was probably waiting for her in the front hall. She was actually rather glad of this, she decided as she hurried down the hall, because it gave her the chance to make a very showy entrance.

So once she reached the stairs she slowed down and walked carefully down toward the front door. Draco was putting something in the closet, so he didn't notice her until she was halfway down the stairs. When he turned Ginny caught her breath, almost forgetting that she was the one trying to impress him, not vice versa. She didn't know when she'd seen anyone look so elegant. His dress robes were like something straight out of a storybook, and his hair was carefully and formally coifed, perfectly framing his calm, handsome face. Telling herself sternly to stop gaping, she descended the rest of the stairs and took his offered arm.

"We should go," is all he said.

Disappointed he hadn't mentioned her appearance, she nodded and let him lead her out the front door.

As she and Draco boarded the ferry that was to take them across the English Channel, Ginny was delighted to see Elise, James, Seamus and Calliope already seated inside. "Somehow this feels familiar," she laughed as she and Draco sat down across from the Stewarts.

"It's good to see you again," Calliope said, and Ginny was glad to see her quiet friend looking so well and happy. Dating Seamus seemed to agree with Calliope, and Seamus seemed just as happy to be with her.

Within a few minutes the ferry was filled with passengers, all formally dressed, and with a rumble from the motor they put out to sea. The six friends talked comfortably all the way across the water, and Ginny was grateful to know that she'd know a few people, at least, at the ball.

It was after seven o' clock when they reached France- "We'll be fashionably late," Draco smiled as he offered Ginny a hand to help her off the ferry- and they all quickly Apparated, Ginny Side Apparating along with Draco because she didn't know the location of their destination. When she and Draco landed, Ginny found herself staring in awe at the building in front of her. Draco had explained to her earlier that the ball was being held in the vacation home of a high-ranking British Ministry official, but he hadn't mentioned that the home in question was a large and magnificent chateau. As she stared at the structure, lit up by magical floodlights, Ginny felt quite certain that it was the most beautiful building she'd ever seen.

Other people were appearing around them. Some were familiar to Ginny and many were not, but they all had one thing in common: they were clearly the cream of society, the highest of the high class. Many of the older women who Apparated in were bedecked in gold and jewels and furs, and many of the younger women, while somewhat less richly dressed, were breathtakingly beautiful. Suddenly feeling very inadequate, Ginny tightly gripped Draco's offered arm and followed him to the front door.

When the footmen- "Those are real footmen?" Ginny whispered in awe- opened the door for the Malfoys, Ginny found herself ushered into a huge ballroom, larger even than the Ministry's and lined with columns, and hung about with gold and silver trappings and tapestries and candelabras. It was more beautiful than even the Hogwarts Great Hall at Christmas, and she had always thought that nothing could be more beautiful than that. Covering the marble floors were throngs of guests, whose finery and jewels and silks seemed to melt together under the candle glow into a cloud of colors and light, flashing gold and silver with every movement. "Draco Malfoy," she breathed as her husband led her into the crowd, "being married to you certainly does have its advantages."

Draco smirked and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the thronging crowd across the ballroom and into the dining room, which was smaller than the ballroom but decorated just as beautifully. The room was filled with five long tables set with rows and rows of golden plates and cutlery. Around them, the other guests seemed to realize that supper was about to begin, and they too began to find their seats.

It wasn't until Ginny saw Ginevra Malfoy hanging above a plate in ornate golden script that she realized the seats were assigned. Looking around quickly, she saw the Stewarts moving to the far side of the dining room and Seamus pulling Calliope's chair out at the next table over. Fighting a grimace, she turned back and sat in the chair Draco had just pulled out for her. She'd thought she'd be able to sit by her friends, but apparently that was not the case. Stifling a sigh, she watched resignedly as her name dissolved into a shower of golden sparkles that drifted down to vanish on her plate.

As Draco took the seat next to Ginny, an older woman across the table from him spoke up in delight. "Draco Malfoy! Is that you? I declare, I haven't seen you since you were a boy."

"Christiana," Draco said with a genuine smile. "How good to see you."

"And this must be your wife," Christiana smiled. She spoke with an English accent, Ginny noticed, but there was a slight French tang to it, as though she'd been in France for some time. "I've been so anxious to meet you, dear. There's so much I want to-" She cut off suddenly. "But where are my manners?"

The man beside her smiled indulgently. "Why don't you make some introductions?" he asked with a strong French accent.

"Of course," she said replied to the man, then smiled at Draco. "This is my husband Jean d'Auber, and there next to your darling wife is Rene and Georgette Delagardie, and I'm sure you've heard of the Vicomte Louis d'Armand. He works in international cooperation, too. This is his wife, Marie." She gestured at a haughty-looking older couple next to Draco. Draco listened with interest and nodded at each person introduced, but Ginny noticed him perk up when Louis d'Armand was introduced. He was clearly someone Draco had been waiting to meet.

Draco didn't say anything the vicomte at that time, however. Instead, he introduced the English wizards sitting nearby: Illtyd and Marjorie Browning, a kind elderly couple, sat next to Jean d'Auber, and next to Christiana sat a younger couple Draco introduced as Matthew and Marietta Meliflua. Ginny glanced at Marietta and was shocked to recognize her as Marietta Edgecombe, who'd ratted out Dumbledore's Army in Ginny's fourth year. Unable to help herself, she quickly examined Marietta's face and found that Hermione's curse seemed to have worn away. She hoped that meant that Marietta wouldn't carry a grudge about it, but all the same, she avoided making eye contact after that.

"And this is my wife, Ginny," Draco finished.

Christiana smiled at Ginny and was about to speak when suddenly a voice boomed out over the crowd. It was Nigel Dippet, head of the Department of International Cooperation and Draco's boss. Ginny had only ever met him once, at the Stewarts' party, but she remembered his booming voice and imposing presence well. He welcomed everyone to the ball and gave a short speech about the importance of maintaining good relations between England and France, then began to repeat himself in French.

Draco took advantage of the long speech to whisper to Ginny about the people at their table: Jean d'Auber was the head of the French ministry's law office, and Rene Delagardie was his personal assistant; Illtyd Browning worked with Draco at the Department of International Cooperation; Matthew Meliflua worked in the Ministry's administration office and was there as part of the group representing the absent Minister of Magic.

"And the vicomte," he said softly, not turning to look at the man in question, "is a rather important figure in diplomatic circles, and he's the president's cousin. So we're trying to get on his good side, all right?"

"All right," Ginny agreed, smiling.

Draco did not smile back. In fact, he seemed quite serious about talking to the vicomte: as soon as Dippet had finished and the first course had appeared, Draco turned and struck up a casual conversation with the d'Armands. Once upon a time Ginny would have assumed Draco was simply trying to increase his own importance, but now she noticed that behind his nonchalant exterior, he seemed rather tense. He was still worrying about something, no matter what he'd claimed, and apparently it was important that he charm M. d'Armand. It was strange, the same way it was strange that the French law enforcement department had been invited but not the English one. Ginny glanced around and wondered exactly why the Ministry had decided to hold this ball.

"I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Lady Malfoy," Christiana said.

Ginny started, her reverie broken, and looked up to see that the d'Aubers and Brownings were looking at her. Her first instinct was to ask that Mme. d'Auber not address her by her title, but then she thought of Draco and the vicomte; perhaps, if Draco meant to impress, their titles could come in handy. So she simply smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I noticed you said earlier that you hadn't seen Draco since he was a boy. How do you know him?"

Christiana smiled. "I'm originally from England. In fact, you may know of my brother, Charus Bode; he works for the Ministry. I was a friend of Draco's mother when we were girls. Caught the bouquet at her wedding, actually. But then when Draco was still young I met Jean and moved to France. I've tried to keep tabs on the family, though." Her smile faltered. "I was so devastated when I heard of Narcissa's passing. I wanted to go to the funeral, but of course England was still at war then and there were so many deaths that even Lady Malfoy's didn't make the newspaper here. I didn't hear of it until a month later. Were you able to attend the funeral, dear?"

"Uh, no, I'm afraid I wasn't," Ginny replied, racking her brain to remember when Narcissa had died. Which part of the war was it in? She realized she really didn't know much about her mother-in-law, when it came right down to it. Giving up, she said vaguely, "Draco and I weren't together then, you see, and there was so much going on . . ."

"I understand," Christiana said wisely. "But you're together now and I'm so delighted. I started taking the Daily Prophet after the war ended, you see, and you can just imagine how thrilled I was to open the society pages one morning and see Draco had finally settled down."

"To tell you the truth, we were all surprised," said Illtyd Browning spoke up. "We hadn't thought he was the marrying type."

"Honestly, I hadn't either," Ginny laughed. "It was a surprise to me, too." Her neighbors laughed, and Ginny felt a sudden surge of gratitude that they had turned out to be so kind.

"So tell us," Christiana asked when the laughter had subsided, "how did you and Draco meet? When did you start dating?"

The question caught Ginny off-guard, and she fumbled for a moment, wondering what to say. She'd figured that someone would eventually want the history of their supposed courtship, and she'd intended to tell Draco they needed to come up with a story they could tell people. She'd just never gotten around to it.

She glanced over at Draco, but he was still deep in conversation with the d'Armands. She'd just have to field this one on her own, she decided, telling herself that honesty was always the best policy.

"Well, we went to Hogwarts together," she began, "but we never really knew each other- we were in different years and different houses. I never even had a class with him. We only saw each other in the hallways and at meals." And when he was bullying me and my brothers, she thought suddenly, and had to hide a wry smile as she decided that she probably shouldn't mention that. "And then after school, we both worked for the Order of the Phoenix and ended up spending a lot of time together, but I wasn't interested in him then. But then we met up again when a friend of his needed a healer and ended up with me. And something just . . . clicked." Something like a wizard's oath, she added silently. She decided it was best to leave out the part where they got married a day later.

"How lovely," Christiana said contentedly.

"So fate kept throwing you together," said Jean. "It's like you were meant to be."

"That's an interesting thought," Ginny responded politely, smiling inwardly. She didn't believe in fate.

But it was an interesting thought.

The food was delicious, but Ginny, forced to eat slowly as she tried to remember which fork to use with which dish, didn't get to eat much of it. Still, that wasn't so bad; perhaps her elegant seat partners would take it as a sign of ladylikeness.

Thinking of being ladylike reminded her that she'd wanted to talk to Draco about her title, Lady Malfoy. She wanted to ask him how many people knew about it. But he talked to M. d'Armand all through dinner and the d'Aubers all through dessert, and when their dishes disappeared at the end of the meal he bid everyone a polite farewell and led Ginny away from the table and into conversation with another French official so fast that she didn't have time to say a word to him.

Normally Ginny wasn't particularly interested in the Department of International Cooperation's affairs, but she found herself hoping that the conversation would hint at what was worrying Draco. However, as Draco and the man, M. Lepain, began to talk, Lepain's son, standing nearby, turned and offered Ginny a hand. "The music is beginning," he said. "Mme. Malfoy, might I have the honor of this dance?"

Draco turned to look surprisedly at Ginny and her would-be dance partner, and she thought she saw a flash of something- possessiveness?- flash across his eyes. But it was a perfectly reasonable request, and after that brief moment of indecision he smiled indulgently at Lepain's son. The young man smiled back and led Ginny onto the dance floor.

Her partner- she found out his name was Michel- was a wonderful dancer, and Ginny found herself struggling just to keep up. But he was warm and jovial and when he saw how unused she was to dancing, he kindly instructed her. He was a much better teacher than Draco, and by the time the song ended and Michel escorted her back to her husband, Ginny felt her dancing had improved quite a bit. All the same, she wished that it was Draco who had asked her to dance.

Not long after, Draco bid farewell to the Lepains and led Ginny to another group of politicians. She found herself feeling a little sorry that Draco was paying so little attention to her, especially after she'd made such an effort to look nice for him, but she understood that he was there on business. And besides, she wasn't ignored long; one of the French politicians soon asked her to dance, and when they returned, another begged for the honor. Ginny was more than a little flattered. She only hoped she wouldn't collapse from exhaustion.

After her third dance, she was feeling quite tired, and she could see that Draco was deep in conversation with a pompous-looking man in very formal robes. With a sigh she decided that Draco really wasn't going to have time for her that night. Glancing over at the refreshment table, she saw the Stewarts getting a drink, so she asked her partner to lead her there instead. He obliged, and Ginny soon found herself standing, smiling and out of breath, with her friends.

"Look at you," Elise said, laughing. "Your first ball and already you're so popular."

"And I can't figure out why," Ginny grinned. "I'm such a terrible dancer."

After a moment's light-hearted banter, they were approached by a handsome young man who asked Elise for a dance. She obliged, and James, not to be outdone, turned and offered his hand to Ginny. She followed him onto the dance floor, and as she once again found herself spinning through the glittering crowd, she decided that going to balls was definitely something she could get used to.

. . . . . .

Draco smiled as he watched Ginny twirl by yet again. He had no idea where she got the stamina- she'd been dancing the entire night- but he was glad that she seemed to be enjoying herself. Ministry business was preventing him from paying as much attention to her as he felt she deserved, and he felt quite bad about it. Fortunately, the younger guests at the ball were all lively and ready to dance, and Ginny hadn't been wanting for partners.

In fact, a great many men had wanted to dance with Lady Malfoy, Draco noticed with an inexplicable feeling of annoyance. Of course, he told himself, it was only natural; the men outnumbered the women at the ball, so any woman who seemed inclined to dance was in high demand. And besides, Ginny looked wonderful that night, clad in an elegant dress, her hair swept up fashionably, her usual warm smile sparkling. All in all, his wife was a beautiful woman. It was quite understandable that men wanted to dance with her, Draco decided. He was just mildly put off by it because he hadn't taken anyone to a function like this for a long time, and he'd forgotten what it was like to have other men eyeing his date. Still, he wondered at the stab of irritation he felt when he saw Ginny smiling at her dance partner.

"You make a valid point, Dippet," M. d'Armand said, and Draco started a little and pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand. He, Illtyd Browning and Nigel Dippet were currently deep in conversation with several important French politicians, including Louis d'Armand, who was currently promising, "I will begin an investigation of this matter immediately."

The three Brits in the group nodded calmly, though Draco was sure that his colleagues were as thrilled as he was to hear the vicomte's words. That was what they'd been working for; in fact it was one of the main reasons they'd held the ball. D'Armand did not appear to feel quite as strongly about their warning as they might have wished, but still, it was enough to inspire hope.

After a few more minutes of small talk, the group disbanded. Nigel smiled at his two employees. "I think that went well," he said when Louis was out of earshot.

Draco expressed his agreement and then excused himself. He felt that a weight, one that had been plaguing him for several weeks now, had been lifted off his shoulders, and now that he was done with the Ministry business he'd been so occupied with all night, he could finally go enjoy the evening- or what little remained of it- with his wife.

He searched the crowd, looking for a telltale flash of red hair, when suddenly a voice behind him grabbed his attention. "Draco Malfoy!"

Draco turned to see two men walking toward him. "Marc, Henri," he replied with genuine pleasure. "How have you been?"

"Oh, fine, fine," grinned Marc, while behind him his brother Henri silently nodded. "But what about you? I hear you're married."

"Yes, to some kind of pauper," Henri said blandly.

"Well, she's not Celeste St. Just, but dating supermodels was always more your thing than mine," Draco retorted. "I want you both to meet her, if I can find where she's gotten to."

He turned to look for Ginny and found her being led off the dance floor by Seamus Finnigan. The two were deep in conversation, but when Ginny's eyes met Draco's she smiled warmly. He gestured for her to come join him.

"Ginny, this is an old friend of mine, Marc du Franchard, and his brother Henri. Marc and I met that summer the Ministry sent me to intern in Paris." He'd never told Ginny about that summer. He hoped she'd be clever enough to play along.

"Oh, of course!" Ginny smiled.

Draco smiled back in silent relief. "And Henri, Marc, this is my wife, Ginny."

"I am so pleased to meet the woman who finally captured M. Malfoy's heart," Marc said with a smile, and kissed Ginny's hand.

"Charmed," Henri said shortly. "You must be quite pleased with your sudden rise to wealth."

Ginny blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly at Marc. "It's wonderful to meet you both. Are you from Paris, then?"

"No, Provence," Marc replied. "We have the most beautiful house in the middle of the lavender fields. I was only in Paris that summer to help a cousin of mine open a restaurant."

Draco chuckled. "Do you remember that time we sprung a leak boating on the Seine?"

Marc burst into laughter. "And that Muggle couple was watching us so we couldn't use our wands?"

Draco, chuckling back, could see that the conversation was about to fall into reminiscing, which would leave Ginny and Henri bored. He was about to change the subject when Marc, apparently noticing the same thing, spoke up first. "I'm sure this is boring to both of you. Henri, why don't you ask Ginny to dance?"

Henri looked at Ginny a long moment, then slowly offered his hand to her. Ginny just as slowly took it, and the couple plodded onto the dance floor. Once they were dancing, Marc smiled at Draco. "Do you remember that time with the borscht?"

The two friends talked jovially for a few minutes until Marc glanced at his watch. "Look how late it's getting!" he cried.

"Well, we expected this to go late," Draco shrugged. "The Ministry intends to keep ferries crossing the Channel until three."

"Are you taking a ferry back?"

Draco nodded. "A lot of our wizards are staying the night in France, but I'd rather have a good English breakfast in the morning."

"This is perfect!" Marc cried. "You never got to see our little chateau when you were in Paris. Why don't you and Ginny come stay the night there? I'm sure we could dig up an English breakfast for you."

Compared to the prospect of spending an hour on the ferry that night, Draco reflected, that sounded like a highly desirable alternative. "That sounds great. Just let me ask Ginny when she gets done dancing."

She was done dancing a few moments later, and as the orchestra struck up their next tune Henri offered Ginny his arm with exquisite precision and led her off the floor, him looking rather haughty and her looking upset. Draco frowned a little, wondering why she looked so out of sorts.

"Did you have fun?" smiled Marc, oblivious.

"Mme. Malfoy dances just as I expected her to," Henri said vaguely.

Ginny looked away from him and clenched her jaw. Aware something was wrong but not knowing how to respond, Draco took her arm and looped it through his, then comfortingly patted her hand. "I have good news," he told her. "We don't have to take the ferry home tonight. Marc has invited us to spend the night with him and Henri. I hear their chateau is just beautiful-"

He could feel his wife stiffen beside him. "I don't know if that's going to work," she said carefully. "Remember, we're going to see Elise and James tomorrow."

"You are friends with Elise and James Stewart?" Henri asked with one eyebrow raised. "Clearly they are very tolerant of-" he paused- "diversity."

"Yes, we're old friends," Draco shrugged, and turned to Ginny, who had gone quite tense. "We'd be fine staying the night. Our engagement with the Stewarts isn't until the afternoon."

Her smile was quite obviously forced. "Well, better safe than sorry, I think. Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"

Shrugging at Marc, who smiled in understanding, Draco allowed Ginny to lead him out of earshot of the du Franchards, then jumped in surprise when she turned to him suddenly, her face angry but her eyes brimming with tears. "I am not staying with them," she hissed.

"Why not?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"Why not?" she repeated. "Because I think I've already tolerated enough scorn and derision for one evening."

"Scorn and derision?" Draco asked incredulously. "When?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Tell me," she said angrily, "is this deafness of yours something we should get checked out or are you just being willfully ignorant?"

"What are you on about?" Draco demanded.

"Henri!" she said, exasperated, as though it should have been obvious. "Your friend Marc is really nice, Draco, but his brother has done nothing but belittle me since I met him."

"He asked you to dance."

"No, Marc asked him to ask me to dance. And he spent the whole time commenting on how someone in my station in life must find it hard to pretend to belong in the upper class."

"Henri did that?" Draco paused. "Are you sure?"

She gave a disbelieving laugh and looked to be about to respond, then, seeming to change her mind, turned away from him, one hand resting on her forehead. "I need some air. I'll see you later." And she walked away toward the balcony.

Draco returned to the du Franchards, poring over his wife's words. "Sorry," he told his friends as he approached. "Ginny needed some air. It's a bit warm in here and she's not used to so much dancing."

"That's understandable," Henri said with a casual shrug. "After all, I'm sure she didn't get to attend functions of this magnitude when she was younger. Didn't she grow up in some shack in the middle of nowhere?"

"No, actually, she didn't," Draco responded, raising an eyebrow. "She grew up in a house in the country. I've been there and it is small, but she said it was big enough for her family and they were always happy there."

"Which translates into, they couldn't afford anywhere better," Henri responded, smirking at his own poor humor. "Her kind are always saying they're happy with what they have, when really they just can't afford anything else."

With a shock, Draco looked at his friend as though seeing him for the first time. "Her kind?" he demanded, stepping closer to Henri to look him more fully in the face. "Exactly what do you mean by that?"

Henri was obviously taken aback by Draco's response. "You know," he said stumblingly.

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

"Well- I don't know."

"Well then maybe next time you should think twice before you say something stupid." He advanced another step toward the cowed Henri. "Ginny is my wife, and if you claim to be my friend you should treat her better. That is important to me. She is important to me. Is that clear?"

As Henri muttered a yes, Draco turned to Marc. "I don't think we'll be able to spend the night after all, but thank you for the offer." Marc nodded in understanding, and Draco nodded as a take leave.

But before he left he turned to Henri. "And if you're really concerned about class distinctions, you should pay more attention to your manners. A true gentleman always treats a lady with respect." And he turned on his heel and left.

He found Ginny out on the balcony, staring out at the stars, her arms folded against the breeze. When he put his hand on her shoulder and she looked back at him, he could see that she'd been crying. He'd never seen Ginny cry before, and he was surprised at how her tears made him hurt for her. So he put his arms comfortingly around her and she leaned against his chest without resistance, and they clung to each other under the darkened sky.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said after a few moments. "I don't like crying and I usually don't-"

Draco shushed her softly. "Sometimes it's okay to cry." It slipped out of him, and he had to think a moment before he remembered that it was Narcissa who used to say that. It had always made him feel better when he was a young boy, and it made Ginny smile now.

"We're not going to stay with Marc," Draco said a few moments later.

Ginny lifted her head to look Draco in the face, then tried to twist away from his arms. "I'm sorry," she said, chagrined. "I know you wanted to go-"

"It's not your fault," Draco said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiping away her tears. "It's Henri's. And Marc realizes that, so he's not going to be offended at me or you."

"But if you wanted time to visit with him-"

"Then we'll invite him to stay with us some time, without Henri. Now stop worrying about it. I want you to enjoy tonight."

She smiled then, shakily. "I have enjoyed tonight. Thank you."

"Don't thank me- thank the Ministry and a lot of house elves." She laughed while he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Now, the night is almost over and I still haven't danced with you." He made an elaborate bow and offered his hand. "Mrs. Malfoy, may I have this dance?"

Ginny laughed and took his hand. "It would be an honor, Mr. Malfoy."

Hand in hand they walked to the dance floor while the orchestra played a slow waltz. Almost shyly Ginny put her hand on his shoulder and he put his on her waist, and they twirled across the marble floor. Ginny, no longer forced to keep her eyes on her feet, was smiling at him, and he, enjoying the dance more than he had enjoyed many dances before, smiled back.

The song ended and Draco gave Ginny another elaborate bow, and she, laughing, curtsied back. Then he offered her his arm and led her off the dance floor amidst the throngs of other partygoers who had also sensed that the evening was ending. Ginny, clearly tired, leaned into his side as they walked, and he shifted his arm so he could support her a little.

On the front lawn they paused, looking out over the spacious grounds all lit up with fairy lights, and Draco turned to Ginny. "By the way, you look beautiful tonight."

Ginny smiled shyly in return, and then with the flick of a wand, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy headed for home.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
- e.e. cummings

. . . . . .

Within a few moments the Malfoys were loaded onto the ferry and on their way back to England. The boat had far fewer occupants than the one that had brought them to France, as many people had already made the crossing and many more were staying in France for the evening. Ginny, yawning and rubbing her eyes, seemed quite pleased to see the nearly empty boat. She took a seat at a corner where two benches intersected and stretched her legs out on the bench in front of her. Draco sat next to her on the other bench, and she promptly laid her head on his shoulder, nestled into his side, and was still.

Though the lights in the ferry were dim, Draco could still make out the strands of gold in Ginny’s auburn hair, and he looked fondly down at the top of her head and at her pale hands, folded demurely in her lap. It had been a long time since anyone had fallen asleep on his shoulder, a long time since anyone had trusted him that much. He’d spent a good portion of his life believing that he was destined to be a destroyer of lives, and later, that he had no destiny at all. But there on that ferry, he could not believe that either of those was true. He had to be worth something as long as he was holding and protecting that sleeping girl.

Somewhere outside the window a foghorn suddenly sounded, far-off but still loud enough to wake Ginny. “Sorry,” Draco said when he felt her stir, though it was not his fault that she had awoken.

“It’s all right,” she murmured sleepily. “How long have we been out?”

“I think we’re about a half-hour from home. Long enough that it’s probably worth going back to sleep, if you’re still tired.”

She lay her head back against his shoulder, as though to do as he suggested, but she didn’t close her eyes. “That was a beautiful ball,” she said after a few moments. “How much did that cost the Ministry?”

“A lot,” he responded wryly.

“A lot,” she repeated sleepily, and yawned. “So tell me, Draco. You were involved in planning this. What was it all about, really?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him then. “You know. Why all the expense? Why France? Why invite law enforcement if this was a diplomatic ball?”

Surprised, he looked down into her curious eyes. “Well, it’s a bit . . . complicated.”

“Is it related to your trip to France last week?”

He blinked. “Yes. It’s- they’re having some trouble with dark wizards.”

She nodded, taking this in. “So how did England get involved?”

“Why are you so curious about this?” Draco asked, a little defensively.

Ginny sat up and turned to face him. “Because it’s been worrying you for weeks, and if it matters that much to you, then it matters to me.”

Not knowing what to say, Draco stalled for a moment, then decided the best course of action was to be honest. After all, it wasn’t as though it was a state secret, or as though she could do any harm with the information. He would tell her, then.

“Well, as I said, the trouble is with dark wizards,” he began, and Ginny settled back down against his shoulder. “There’s always been a small group in France, just like in any country, but then at the end of the first war, there were about . . . I’d say about twenty or thirty people who fled to France. The Ministry was sure that it was because they’d been fighting for Voldemort, but without any hard evidence of this they couldn’t force France to deport any of them, so they just tried to keep close tabs on them.”

“Makes sense,” Ginny said.

“And then some of these suspected Death Eaters returned to England when Voldemort came back to power, although the Ministry was never able to catch any of them doing anything specifically illegal. When Potter destroyed Voldemort, all of the exiles who’d returned, plus quite a few more people, fled back to France. So the Ministry has been very concerned for a while now that France now has an unusually large number of dark wizards, so they’ve spent spies to keep tabs on them. While you and I were in Switzerland, the spies finally managed to confirm that most of the dark wizards in France have formed some kind of group, and that a lot of the British expatriates are also members. They call themselves L’Aube Foncée- it means ‘the dark dawn.’ ”

“Oh, dear.”

“That’s what the spies thought, especially when they found evidence that these wizards have been hoarding food and supplies, enough to make them think they were planning something. Unfortunately they were nearly discovered and barely escaped with their lives. L’Aube Foncée is suspicious now, and we haven’t been able to get any more spies past their security.”

“So you’re trying to get France to help you, because it’s on their soil.”

“Exactly. But France never experienced Voldemort, so they haven’t dealt with a dark wizard since Grindelwald, and not many people remember what that was like. So without the memory fresh in their minds, they aren’t as strongly against dark magic as the British Ministry is. We’ve had a hard time convincing them that this group is worth their energy.”

“So that’s why you spent all that time talking to their president.”

“He’s still not convinced. When the visit ended and we could see he wasn’t going to do as much about it as we’d like, Dippet came up with the idea of the ball, where Ministry employees could mingle with all levels of the French government and get them informed about the threat.”

Ginny nodded. “Do you think it worked?”

“I hope so,” Draco said softly, and his wife curled in closer to him.

“I had no idea the work you did was so serious,” she said after a moment. “I always figured it was all parties and shaking hands.”

“Well now you know how important your husband is,” Draco said with mock seriousness. He paused. “You know that information I just told you is to be kept secret, right? No spreading it around to all of your friends?”

“Of course.” She yawned. “Besides, they’d never believe you’re that important.”

“Shut your mouth and go to sleep, Weasel.”

She laughed and closed her eyes. She was still for so long that he thought she’d fallen asleep, but then she suddenly spoke. “Thanks for saving us from the dark wizards, Draco.”

“You’re welcome, Gin.” And he looked out the window to watch the lights of Dover glistening out across the black water.

The Malfoys didn’t reach home until after two, and Draco, exhausted, slept so long the next morning that he barely had time to shower and get dressed before lunch was served. Fortunately, doing his weekly check of the grounds got him moving, and by the time he and Ginny were expected at Elise and James’s house, he was feeling wide awake.

When the Malfoys were shown into the Stewarts’ sitting room, Ginny immediately crossed the room to greet Elise, who was waiting with her usual hug. Draco smiled as he watched his wife and his friend, who were so obviously attached to each other. It just seemed perfectly right.

Elise then showed the Malfoys to the sofa, and Draco noticed that she was suppressing a smile- in fact she seemed to bursting with some hidden secret. But instead of explaining what that might be, she asked Draco and Ginny how they’d enjoyed the ball.

“It was so fun!” Ginny laughed. “It was like something out of a story book.”

“And fortunately we weren’t lacking in Prince Charmings,” Elise joked. “Did you see that Russian fellow?”

“Quite fit,” Ginny agreed.

“You know, we’re sitting right here,” James said drily.

“Yes, and I still like you best,” Elise said comfortingly.

“And of course when we were talking about handsome men, we were including you two in that list,” Ginny said, smiling at Draco.

“You say that now,” Draco said, but he was smiling too.

“How did you enjoy the dancing?” James asked Ginny.

“That was hard!” she responded earnestly. “I mean, it was fun, of course, but I’ve never really danced like that before. It was exhausting!”

“And you spent most of the evening dancing,” Elise pointed out.

Reminded of how Ginny had smiled while dancing with those other men, Draco experienced another of those stabs of irritation he’d felt all that night, which is probably what led him to comment nonchalantly, “Yes, it cost me quite a bit to pay all those men, but it was worth it when I saw how you enjoyed dancing with them.”

Ginny stared at him. “You’re so amusing, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, clearly annoyed.

“Yes, and luckily you’re very forgiving, Mrs. Malfoy,” he replied, smiling sweetly at her, and she swatted his arm and turned back to Elise and James.

“And how did you two enjoy the evening?”

The little group talked for a few minutes longer until tea was brought in, which Draco drank with relish. He and Ginny had been meeting Elise and James for tea every few weeks since their marriage, and Draco enjoyed it quite a bit, for the conversation, for the companionship, but especially for the Stewarts’ tea. He had no idea what their house elves did, but it alone made the whole visit worth it.

Once tea was done and the tea things were cleared away, Draco saw Elise glance over at James, who smiled back in understanding. “What is it?” Draco asked.

“Well,” James smiled, “we have an announcement.”

“We just found out this morning and we wanted you to be the first to know!” Elise gushed.

James looked at his wife. “Except our parents.”

“Well, except our parents. Of course we already told them. But we want you to be the second to know!”

Draco listened to Elise’s rambling, wondering what she could be talking about. Glancing over at Ginny, he saw that she was smiling a little, as though she had guessed what the Stewarts were about to say. He looked back at Elise.

But she simply took James’s hand, and it was he who smiled at the Malfoys and said, “We’re going to have a baby.”

In the same amount of time it took for Draco’s mind to process this statement, Ginny had launched herself off the sofa and thrown her arms around Elise, who had stood as though anticipating the onslaught. The two women began laughing and talking too fast for Draco to follow, so he just shrugged and stood from the couch to face James. “Congratulations,” he said.

He reached out and they shook hands, and then James, quiet, reserved James, pulled Draco into hug. Draco, too shocked to do anything but stand there dumbly, suddenly heard laughter and saw that Elise and Ginny were watching them and smiling.

“Boys,” said Elise with amusement, and Ginny nodded in agreement.

And then Elise had to hug Draco and Ginny had to hug James, and then Ginny asked if Elise wanted a boy or a girl- “Both! I want twins!”- and then Elise offered to show the Malfoys the room they wanted to use for a nursery. Ginny agreed immediately and the two women ran upstairs, leaving their husbands to follow at a more leisurely pace.

“So,” Draco said to James, wondering what, besides “congratulations,” one man ought to say to another man who was about to become a father.

“So,” James agreed, a smile on his face.

“That’s exciting.”

“I know. Elise was always so excited to have children.”

“I remember,” Draco laughed. “She wanted twenty. How about you?”

James chuckled. “Twenty might be excessive, but I wouldn’t mind having a big family.”

Draco hesitated. He didn’t want to rain on the Stewarts’ parade, but he couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you at all worried? I mean, you’re an only child. You’ve never dealt with a baby before.”

“I’m terrified,” James replied jovially. “And I’m sure it’s going to be hard. But some things are worth making the effort.”

Draco smiled. “Well, congratulations again. I’m happy for you both.”

And quiet James smiled again.

They reached the room destined to be the nursery and found Elise deeply involved in a long explanation of what they intended to do to prepare the room for the new arrival. Draco’s eyes were automatically drawn to his wife, who was following Elise around the room. She was clearly excited for her friend, but in her eyes he saw something else, a kind of wistfulness that surprised him. She wanted this for herself someday, he could see. She’d mentioned it a time or two before, and given her upbringing and large family it was not at all surprising, but even if he hadn’t known beforehand that having a family was important to her he would know it know, with absolute certainty, from the veiled longing in her eyes as she listened to her friend discuss her plans.

Well, she deserved it, and she would be a wonderful mother someday, someday when she had “found that someone she couldn’t live without,”as she had once said, someday in the future when she had walked out of Malfoy Manor and left him behind forever. The thought made Draco pause. He hadn’t thought about that inevitable day in a long time. He’d agreed on their year-and-a-half limit, of course, had even been pleased to have a way out of the marriage. But that was back when Ginny was just an acquaintance who’d happened to be in the right place at the right time. Things had changed since then. Now she was a friend, a close one, and as he watched her walk slowly around the room, he realized with a strange pang of sorrow that he’d miss her when she was gone.

“And that’s it,” Elise was finishing. “It’s an ambitious plan, I know, but we have a lot of time to get it done.”

“Before you get too fat to be able to move around comfortably,” said Draco.

Elise laughed, clearly seeing that it was a joke, but Ginny just covered her eyes with her hand. “Draco, could you possibly be any less tactful?”

“I could, but I think it would just make you mad.”

She shook her head. “Just keep pushing, Malfoy.”

“You know I will,” Draco said with a sweet smile. And then, still feeling pensive, he found himself adding mentally, At least, until you’re gone.

. . . . . .

They stayed at the Stewarts until the house elves had set dinner out, and then Ginny and Draco Apparated home to eat their own dinner. Draco didn’t say a lot during the meal, as usual, but Ginny didn’t mind, being somewhat lost in her thoughts as she was. Elise was going to be a mother! She couldn’t be more thrilled for her friend, but imagining Elise smiling as her first child was put into her arms, while a joyful thought, only served to remind Ginny that she, despite being married, seemed to be even further from her dream of having a family than she had been in her childhood.

Still, there was no sense worrying about it now. If it was going to happen, it would happen, eventually, and until then she could focus on other things in her life, things that having children would hinder. Cheered by the thought, she excused herself from the table and went to her room to write Luna.

Once the letter was finished and sent off, she sat at her desk a while, looking out her window and thinking about Elise and James. How pleased they must be to be having a child, whom they could love and care for and who could carry on the family name!

The thought triggered a memory suddenly, one that she hadn’t thought of in months, of something Draco had said to her, something rather out of character for him. He’d only mentioned it in passing, but it seemed so strange to her now- so unlike him. She tried to think about writing a letter to Hermione, but the memory plagued her until she decided that the only thing to do for it now was to ask Draco about it. So she went downstairs.

She found him out back sitting on the kitchen steps, apparently deep in thought, staring out at the clouds that were just beginning to be touched with orange as the sun descended toward the horizon. Once she would have been afraid to bother him when he was in such a brown study, but now she dropped down beside him without second thought. His only response was to scoot over to make room for her, and she settled down in to him. They sat that way for some time, both content to stay silent and gaze at the sky, where Apollo’s chariot was galloping toward home.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked finally.

“No, I won’t go out with you,” he answered immediately. “I’m already married.”

“You’d better say that,” she laughed. “Can I ask another question?”

He shrugged, and she took a moment to collect her thoughts, wondering just how to phrase her question. It was an odd one, she knew, but she wanted to know. Finally she spoke. “When you were first trying to marry me, why did you want me to bear you an heir? I mean, why would you want your own child to be half Weasley? You hate us.”

His gaze was still fixed on the trees stretching out before them. “I need an heir,” he said lazily, shrugging, “and the inheritance laws are much easier to deal with when the child is legitimate.”

“Legitimate?” Ginny repeated.

“Yes, legitimate,” he replied, casting an amused glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “It means-”

”I know what it means,” Ginny cut in, and he grinned wryly. “What I don’t get is why you’d want the child to be mine. Why not wait until we’re divorced and you’ve married someone you really care about?”

“Ah, that’s what you’re asking,” Draco said. “Why not with wife number two?”

“Well . . . yes. Why wouldn’t you rather have her have your child?”

He looked directly at her then, his cool eyes fixed on hers for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, as though he’d made his decision, he looked away and began to speak. “When I originally proposed this . . . marriage of convenience, I intended not to marry after you and I had said goodbye,” he admitted. She raised her eyebrows and he shook his head. “That’s not as sentimental as it sounds,” he explained. “What I mean is that I never intended to get married at all. They only reason I could see to do so was to have a son to pass the name and money on to.”

“But you proposed to me,” Ginny pointed out.

“You know my reasons for that,” he said. “And it seemed perfect- if you’d gotten pregnant, I would have been done with all my duties concerning marriage.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to get married?” Ginny asked. “Everyone wants to get married.”

“Well, I personally have never been all that impressed with the institution,” Draco replied.

“But you said you’d have married Pansy if she hadn’t cheated on you.”

“Well, maybe my disillusionment with marriage is a more recent development, then,” he said with an offhanded shrug, but Ginny caught something in his tone that made her pause.

Casting her mind back to the party at the Stewarts and their conversation on the roof, she asked, “Do you dislike marriage because it didn’t save your parents?”

He seemed struck by that, and Ginny wondered if he was simply surprised she remembered him saying that. It had to be more than that, though; he was looking at her with his brow furrowed, and several times he took a breath as though to speak and then released it agin. He looked so troubled that Ginny felt sorry she’d brought it up. “You don’t have to answer,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, I want you to understand.” He smiled stiffly. “Besides, they’re your family too.” He seemed agitated, which was strange for Ginny, who’d never seen him make any unnecessary gesture. So it was no surprise to her when he stood and held out his hand. “Come walk with me,” he commanded.

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, and they began to walk together down the path to the north meadow, Draco staring intently ahead and Ginny unconsciously flexing the hand that had just been in his.

They were both silent for a long time, but Ginny was content simply to feel the evening breeze, to enjoy the beautiful sunset, to walk by Draco’s side. It pained her to see him troubled, but she couldn’t help noticing that he looked quite handsome when he was so serious, though the intense contemplation on his face now was nothing compared to the beauty of his smile when he was laughing, truly laughing with untainted, childlike joy.

At this moment, though, he seemed miles from laughing. She wanted to know what weighed so heavily on his mind, but she waited, sure that he would speak when he was ready to.

And he did. “The thing you have to understand,” he said very suddenly, “is that my mother was never a Death Eater. Of course, being a Black, she had her opinions on Muggles and Muggleborns, but she could never come to terms with Voldemort’s methods.” He spoke rather haltingly, as though this was the first time he’d put these thoughts into words, and Ginny wondered if she was the first person he’d ever said this to. “Voldemort tried to get my father to persuade her, of course, but she refused and Father would never have dreamed of forcing her.” He paused, a wistful smile on his face. “He had his faults, but he always loved Mother desperately. He’d have given her the world if she’d asked for it.”

Ginny, smiling absently, wrapped her arms around herself and wondered if Draco had ever known anyone he’d be willing to give the world to.

“So he always told Voldemort that Mother wouldn’t join. He told him that she couldn’t stomach the killing, and Voldemort bought that.” He paused suddenly. “It doesn’t bother you when I say ‘Voldemort,’ does it?”

It was an understandable question; many people still refused to say his name, even though Voldemort had been irreversibly destroyed five years earlier. But Ginny had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and she’d unwittingly been a close personal friend of the young Voldemort, and she shook her head. “Me and Voldemort go way back,” she joked somewhat weakly.

Draco looked at her closely as though reading her thoughts. “That’s true. I’d forgotten.” He peered at her again and seemed to be about to say something, but then he simply continued his story. “So Mother never became a Death Eater. But-” he sighed a little- “but she still supported the Dark Lord, because my father did, and she was so devoted to him that she convinced herself that Voldemort wasn’t so bad. She became very good at only seeing those parts of the dark side that she could rationalize away and excuse. I mean, I think she really always knew deep down that she disagreed with Voldemort, but she could never disagree with my father, so she always supported his work with the Death Eaters.”

Ginny shrugged a little. “She loved him. It makes people do crazy things.”

Draco gave her a tight smile. “I guess so.” He was silent a moment, then: “Do you remember the raid on the Parley house?”

Ginny nodded. “Beginning of the second war, right? I was still in school then.”

“I was on my way home from a trip to the Continent. After I graduated school I spent a few months working for a family friend’s law office, and then my father sent me on a trip to Europe- Romania, Bulgaria, Greece- all the countries where dark magic isn’t illegal. He was trying to get me more interested in dark magic.”

“Did it work?” It was a forward question, she knew, but she had to know. Besides, she might never get another chance. Draco was never this open about the war, or his father or the Dark Lord. It was an unspoken rule that they never talked about any of it. Ever since that first night of their marriage, when she’d angered him so by asking why he’d turned to the good side, they’d carefully avoided any discussion of Voldemort or Death Eaters or the Order of the Phoenix. It was strange that he’d suddenly changed the rules.

Draco smirked half-heartedly. “I was intrigued, but . . .” Here he paused. “But for a long time I hadn’t been sure that I wanted to join Voldemort. My dad knew this, which is why he decided to send me on the trip. Anyway I didn’t get back to England until the day after the attack, so everything I’m saying is based on what other people have told me- mostly Severus Snape, but it was all confirmed by people in the Order. Basically, the way I understand it is that Voldemort was meeting with his inner circle of Death Eaters, and he had them all bring their wives along, so he could talk to them and make sure they were loyal to him. So my parents both went.”

“The meeting was held at Nolan Parley’s house in Devon, because it was secluded and because the Order didn’t know that Parley had joined the Death Eaters. And they hid the house and made my father the secret keeper, and Voldemort himself cast an anti-Apparating spell so no one could pop in and surprise them. But what they didn’t count on was that one of their guards had decided to turn on them.”

“Ah,” said Ginny.

“His name was Edward Stein. He was a friend of Parley’s and they both joined at the same time, but as Stein got in deeper he realized he’d gotten in over his head. He wanted out, so he started trading information to the Order in return for protection.”

“And he was one of the people your father revealed the house’s secret location to?” Ginny guessed.

“The Death Eaters were always careful when they told anyone a secret like that. But they told Stein because he was acting as a guard, because he knew the layout of Parley’s land. And when the guard he was partnered with got bored and dozed off, Stein managed to get a message to the Order without anyone noticing, and then when the Order showed up he faked his capture.”

“Clever,” Ginny commented.

“And then they attacked the house. Snape was there, of course, pretending to fight the Order, and he said the security around the house was a little heavier than the Order had expected, and they were so busy fighting guards that a lot of the important Death Eaters and their wives managed to get away. But they did capture a lot of the guards.”

“I’d heard it was a successful raid,” Ginny said, and wondered both where Draco could be going with this story and why remembering it was upsetting him so- she’d lived with Draco long enough to know that the more upset he was the more calm he appeared to be, and right then he was very, very tranquil.

“My parents would have gotten away too, except for Voldemort. The Death Eaters who had brought their wives were all trying to slip away to the back of the house, where the women were in a sitting room, and then most of them managed to escape out the back and run to the edge of the land where they could Apparate. But my mother-” He stopped and shook his head. “Mother never brought her wand anywhere. She said it was an inconvenience to carry, and besides wherever she went she was waited on hand on foot, by my father or servants or waiters. Without her wand she couldn’t Apparate out of the house. One of the other couples offered to take her with them, but she just told them that she knew Lucius would come for her.”

Ginny bit her tongue, her immediate response of “Did he?” dying on her lips as she looked at Draco’s emotionless face and decided she already knew the answer to that question.

Draco was continuing. “To his credit, Father started trying to fight his way to Mother as soon as the Order attacked, but back in the hallway Voldemort grabbed him. He’d run out of the room and was hiding under his Invisibility Cloak, and he told my father to come with him, because he’d hidden an exit in a back room and he wanted my father to lay cover for him while he escaped.”

Draco paused, his narrowed eyes the only thing in his calm face that gave away what Ginny instinctively sensed was great inner turmoil. “My father never admitted this to me, of course, but Snape was nearby and he overheard and told me later. He didn’t want to tell me all this about my father, of course, but I wouldn’t rest until I knew.” His speech was precise and carefully controlled, and Ginny found herself wanting to take his hand comfortingly in hers.

“Snape did say my father argued with Voldemort, but then Voldemort insisted and said that if my father wanted to keep his position among the Death Eaters, he had to go with him right then.” They’d reached the northern meadow, and Draco stopped walking, glaring out across the lazily waving grass at the copse of trees on the other side, and Ginny knew what he was about to say. “And he did. My father left with Voldemort. I think he was figuring that the Ministry would realize that my mother wasn’t a Death Eater and they’d let her go. And they would have done, but . . .”

“But?” Ginny prompted gently.

The sun was beginning to set among the hills, and Draco moved to the edge of the path, staring transfixedly at the orange glow. Ginny moved carefully to stand near him, staring up at his too-calm face, afraid of missing a single word coming from his mouth.

“Snape tried to get back to my mother, but some of the Order and the Death Eaters had realized that Voldemort had disappeared and they were running down the hall trying to find him. By the time Snape reached the back of the house Kingsley Shacklebolt was already there fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, and Mother was hiding in the corner. Tonks was there, too, and she and Snape feigned a fight to keep up Snape’s cover story. Aunt Bellatrix and Shacklebolt were both fighting like mad, and their curses were ricocheting all over the place. And then-”

He stopped then, his lips white as stared unseeingly at the horizon, and Ginny felt she knew what was coming next. She waited for him to speak, and it wasn’t she heard him inhale that she realized that she was holding her breath.

“No one knows who cast the curse, although it was Avada Kedavra so it was probably Bellatrix. All they know is that suddenly Tonks was shouting ‘Aunt Narcissa’ and Mother-” He broke off and appeared to be struggling for the words. Ginny shook her head, not exactly knowing what she meant by it. Draco took a breath. “And Mother was dead.”

“Draco-” Ginny began softly.

“Father always insisted it wasn’t his fault, but I think deep down he felt it was. Things were never the same between us after that. I helped bury Mother and the next day I joined the Order of the Phoenix.” His jaw clenched, ever so slightly, and he stared even more determinedly at the sunset.

Ginny released the breath she’d been holding. So that was his reason, then. It was such a tragic story- no wonder he didn’t like to talk about it. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him and tell him that it was going to be all right, that she was there for him and that she always would be, whenever he needed her.

But his stoic posture invited no comfort, and instead she found herself saying, “So that’s why you don’t believe in marriage.”

He gave a strained smirk, still not looking at her. “They were married for twenty years, and he gave that up so that he could keep being Voldemort’s lapdog.”

“Voldemort can be very persuasive,” Ginny said softly. Then, louder: “But that’s only one marriage. Why not consider other marriages, ones that have lasted?”

“I don’t need to. You don’t know how Mother and Father were when they were together. No two people could have been more in love than they were. And in the end she died for their marriage and he gave it up for power.”

She wasn’t used to the bitter tinge in his voice, and something about it made her curl her hand around his wrist and lean her forehead against his shoulder. The muscles there were tense, and she could feel him trembling ever so slightly as he said, “I don’t know if he could have saved her, but he should have tried. He should have done anything for her.” And then she felt him relax quite suddenly. “I miss her so much, Gin.”

She looked up at him then, her hand still around his arm. All his anger was spent and he was standing quite still, the last rays of the sun playing over his resigned face. He looked nothing so much as weary, and as she looked up at his grey eyes, which for the first time in her memory were showing true sorrow, she knew with sudden clarity what she had been refusing to admit to herself for weeks now: that she loved him. With that knowledge came both despair and a curious sense of freedom.

They stood together in the meadow until the sun had vanished behind the hills and the darkening sky was painted with stars. Then without words they turned and walked back to the house, each lost deep in thought, and high above them the stars shone on.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

That’s all the freedom we can hope for—the freedom to choose our prison. - L. M. Montgomery

. . . . . .

Draco went immediately up to bed when they reached the house, obviously worn out from reliving his grief. Ginny called a “good night” at his retreating back, and then once he was out of sight she went to the den, unable to face her room just then.

Being in that room reminded her of that first evening she’d spent at Malfoy Manor, when she and Draco had sat together in front of the fire, when she’d asked him why he’d joined the Order. Well, now she knew. Poor Draco! To come home to discover that one parent was dead and to believe that other was at fault! She looked back over all the time she’d spent with Draco in the Order and was heartily sorry for every time she’d complained about him, every time she’d argued with him, every time she’d found him staring into the fire with dead eyes but hadn’t thought to ask what was wrong because she hadn’t believed that he could have such deep feelings. She even remembered a time when she’d laughed at a snide comment Ron had made to Draco about his mother, and her face burned with shame. Then her mind turned to the end of her conversation with Draco, and her face burned for another reason.

How could she have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy? He was arrogant, he was rude, he was snide even to people he liked. He’d been a bully all through school and he still fought with her brother and Harry whenever he saw them. He’d been a terror in the war even when he was helping the Order. He was the son of a war criminal and a close friend of many Death Eaters. He’d lied to her and tricked her into making that oath to marry him and then he’d tried to manipulate her into keeping it. He’d insulted her and her family more times than she could count, and he was always convinced he was right and he was always leaving his shoes in the doorway of the cloakroom right where she’d trip over them and he was impossible to sleep with.

That reminded her of Switzerland, and the thought made her smile. She’d actually learned to sleep with him by the end, and really, he looked so . . . so human when he was asleep. And of course Switzerland was where they’d had their first dance, and where he’d told her he’d always be faithful to her, and where . . . she covered her face with her hands and groaned. She could list his faults all night long and she would never be able to talk herself of out caring for him. It was hopeless. She loved him and there was nothing she could do about it.

Love changed everything. Looking back over the past two months, Ginny could see so many hints, so many clues that led to up to this eventuality, like puzzle pieces that had no significance on their own but that, when seen in the light of her discovery, all fit together to show her that she’d been falling for him since that day she’d sworn an oath to marry him.

She remembered the Stewarts’ party, which was the first time she’d seen him interact normally with his peers, and how surprised she’d been to see how pleasant he could be and how highly they all thought of him. She thought about his awkward apology after their first fight, and the way she’d felt when she saw him walk into her parents’ backyard to stand by her side as she broke the news. And then there was the time he’d taken flowers to Hannah to apologize, not because Ginny had told him to but because he’d felt sorry for hurting her.

She remembered how much she’d enjoyed being with him in Switzerland, pretending to be in love to get Pansy to leave them alone, how they’d laughed together at the street fair, the awkwardness of their first dance. She thought about the way he’d defended her to Henri du Franchard, and the way her heart had pounded at the smile on his face as they danced that last waltz together. And she thought about his sorrow as he’d told her of the family tragedy, and how much her heart had ached as she realized that she wouldn’t always be there to comfort him. Yes, this had been creeping up on her for a long time and she’d been too blind to realize it.

But what could she do about it? Although she knew that Draco had come to feel much more for her than he had at the beginning of their marriage, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that his regard for her was anything more than the platonic affection one felt for an old chum. And there didn’t seem to be much chance of him changing his mind; as confident as Ginny was in her own looks and personality, she knew she wasn’t as refined or sophisticated as the type of girls Draco had dated in the past.

She had a sudden vision of herself visiting high-end salons and clothing stores and coming out the elegant goddess who could attract Draco Malfoy with a single look, but she discarded that fantasy as soon as she thought of it. Draco would know something was up if she came home looking like one of the French models at the Ministry ball, and the one thing she was suddenly perfectly sure of was that Draco couldn’t know how she felt for him- not yet, anyway. To say something now would make everything terribly awkward between them, and she might lose her chance forever.

It was better to wait, to observe the situation and see if Draco- a bitter smile twisted her lips suddenly- to see if Draco might ever give a pushy little nobody like me a chance. She leaned her head back against the armchair and closed her eyes for a long moment, then left the den and went wearily up to bed.

When she went downstairs the next morning, Ginny was afraid things were going to be strange between them, and not only because when he walked into the entry hall and said her name softly she suddenly wanted to kiss him senseless. No, it was also because she knew only too well that Draco never said anything about himself that would leave him vulnerable, but for some reason he had changed that policy last night. She was afraid he would regret having said so much to her.

Fortunately he seemed to be thinking just the opposite. If anything, he was more relaxed than she usually saw him. It appeared that he felt their heart-to-heart had brought them closer: he chatted warmly with her for a few minutes, and when she told him Hermione had owled her early and asked her to come over, he chivalrously helped her on with her jacket.

It wasn’t exactly true that Hermione had asked her to come over. Actually, the message had stated:

Ginny,

Ron and I would like to see you. Is there a time we could come over?

Ginny’s response had been swift, driven by the sudden feeling that Hermione, who knew her better than almost anyone, would immediately sense that something was amiss if she saw the Malfoys together now, when Ginny’s feelings for Draco were still so raw and new.

Hermione,

Actually, I’m going out this morning anyway. How about I stop by your place?

Now she just needed a reason to go out.

But Draco didn’t know that, so she smiled and stood stock still as he helped her into her jacket and brushed her hair back so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper. She smiled weakly at him and Apparated away quickly, stopping just outside Hermione’s so she could catch her breath and collect herself. Draco’s actions in the cloakroom had nearly been her undoing. She knew he didn’t mean anything particular by it- she’d seen him do the same thing for Elise and even Calliope- but that hadn’t stopped her from catching her breath when she’d felt his hands on her hair. With a groan at her own stupidity, she turned and resolutely knocked on Hermione’s door.

Hermione answered almost immediately, a smile on her face, but she wouldn’t say anything as she invited Ginny in. “I decided to make breakfast when I heard you were coming,” she said brightly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ginny replied immediately. “I didn’t mean to give you extra work-”

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said brightly. “I found this book on enchanting omelets that I’ve been dying to try out.” As they reached the kitchen, she paused and looked at Ginny, her expression suddenly uncertain. “I’ve been feeling sorry that I didn’t invite Draco,” she said. “I was just worried that with Ron being here-”

“It’s all right,” Ginny chuckled. “Draco’s a big boy. He’ll survive without me.” Hermione smiled in relief and disappeared into the kitchen, and Ginny, preparing to follow after, thought with a self-deprecatingly amused smile how true that statement probably was.

In the apartment’s tiny kitchen she found Ron, and the Weasley siblings greeted each other warmly. It was the first time in a long time that Ginny had seen him without Draco present, and her husband’s absence made Ron visibly more relaxed. They chatted comfortably a while, and finally, after their omelets had been brought out and the group was sitting on the balcony eating, the smiling couple sitting across from Ginny got around to telling her their real reason for wanting to see her.

“We were over at Mum and Dad’s with most of the family last night,” Ron said, “and we tried to Floo you, but your house elf said you’d left.”

“After dinner?” Ginny asked with a laugh. “I’m sorry you missed me- I was just out back, taking a walk on the grounds.” And falling in love with the man you hate.

Ron shrugged with a smile. “Bad timing, then.”

Hermione leaned in closer to him, though her eyes were still on Ginny. “But you’re here now, so . . .” She put her left hand out over the table so Ginny could see the glint of silver on her fourth finger. “Ron and I are getting married.”

“Congratulations,” Ginny laughed, standing so she could hug her friend and her brother. “No two people deserve each other more than you do.”

“You know, you don’t seem very surprised by our announcement,” Hermione observed as she pulled away from the fray so Ginny could hug Ron properly.

“Are you kidding?” Ginny demanded, turning to face her friend. “I’ve known you two would get married since you were thirteen years old.”

The engaged couple both turned bright red.

“There’s an engagement party next Friday at the Burrow,” Hermione said once their little group had pulled apart and Ginny was sitting on the other side of the table again. “And-” she glanced at Ron, who had a long-suffering expression on his face, and he gave a very small, very reluctant nod- “And we’d love to have you bring Draco along.”

“Really?” Ginny asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. It had been a long time since anyone in her family had reached out to Draco, and, by extension, to her. She knew her family would never purposefully exclude her from family gatherings, but she couldn’t help but feel that she’d seen them precious little since her wedding, and she was quite sure it was because they didn’t entirely know how Draco fit into their tight-knit family unit- or if he even wanted to try.

“Of course,” Hermione responded, immediately picking up on the twinge in Ginny’s voice. “Ginny, about Draco . . . I’m sorry about the way we all act about him.”

Ginny smiled, but her reply was cut off when Ron unexpectedly spoke. “She’s right,” he said hesitantly, and both women looked at him in surprise. “Draco is-” he paused, clearly struggling with the words- “Draco is your husband, and we haven’t done right by him. By either of you.” He smiled tightly at his sister. “And we’re really sorry.”

At his words, Ginny found herself smiling quietly. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I appreciate that. And we’d love to come on Friday.” And they all went back to their meal, Ginny marveling at Ron’s sudden maturity and Hermione casting openly admiring looks at her fiance.

When the meal was done, Ginny embraced Ron and Hermione one last time and congratulated them again. As the pair walked her to the door, Hermione asked, “What else did you have to do this morning?”

“Visit Neville,” Ginny said immediately, because it was the first thing that came to mind. Fortunately he lived not far from Hermione, so it was a plausible answer. “I haven’t seen him for a while, so I thought . . .”

“Would you mind if we came with?” Hermione asked brightly. “We haven’t told him yet.”

So the group Apparated to Neville’s apartment, appearing with a pop that caused Colin Creevey, just coming out of the front door, to jump in fear and drop his wand. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he said, grabbing the wand that Ron, sniggering, had picked up for him. “What are you all doing here?”

“We’re looking for Neville,” Hermione said. “Is he home?”

Ginny fully expected Colin wouldn’t know- the man was a bit scatter-brained and usually didn’t know what anyone else was up to, even his own roommate- so she was surprised when he answered brightly, “I’m going to meet him right now. Care to come with?”

So the four wizards walked down the block together to the nearby park, where a small crowd had gathered around a football field. “Dean Thomas is playing this morning- you know, that city league he’s in- and he wanted us to come watch,” Colin explained. “They call their team the Wizards- they think they’re clever, you see, because they are wizards, mostly Muggle-borns who never really liked Quidditch, plus a few nutters who just like Muggle sports.”

They found Neville down near the Wizards’ goal, sitting on a bench with a dark-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar. When Colin called Neville’s name, both he and the girl turned toward them and stood up. “Ginny, Ron, Hermione, I didn’t expect to see you three,” Neville smiled. “What are you doing here?”

As Hermione explained how they’d ended up at the game, Ginny examined Neville. He was looking well, she decided, and happy, too; he was normally so quiet and reclusive, but this morning he was smiling comfortably. She wondered if the girl he was with had something to do with it; the hand she had on his arm did seem somewhat more than friendly.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. “So,” Colin said in his usual brash way, “is this that girl you’ve been seeing?”

The girl smiled shyly as Neville responded, “Yes, this is who I wanted you to meet. Everyone, this is Morag MacDougal. You might remember her from Hogwarts.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “Ravenclaw, right? I remember in Charms class once, you cast the most impressive Gubraithian fire spell. I was so jealous.”

“Only you would remember something like that, Herm,” Ron said fondly.

“I’m flattered you remember, Hermione,” Morag said in a soft but genuine voice, and Ginny knew instinctively that she was going to like this girl.

Neville smiled at Morag and then motioned to the rest of the group. “And this is my roommate, Colin Creevey, and you might remember Ron Weasley- he was in our year- and this is his little sister Ginny Weasley, now Ginny Malfoy.” Morag’s eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing, for which Ginny was grateful.

Colin looked at Hermione. “So what did you need to come down here for?”

The happy couple smiled in that slightly bashful way that Ginny had often seen on her married siblings’ faces, and something in her chest twinged in response. She found she couldn’t even listen to Ron and Hermione as they announced their news; their happiness only served to remind her of everything she didn’t have. Instead she found herself staring at Hermione’s ring. Hermione had a tiny silver band, no diamonds, and she was the happiest woman in the world. Ginny had the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen, and what did she have? Nothing. Not love, not family, not any hope of a future with Draco. She bit the inside of her lip and forced herself to push those thoughts aside.

“Congratulations!” Colin was saying, shaking Ron’s hand exuberantly, while Neville and Morag spoke to Hermione is quieter but no less warm tones.

“And you all must come to the engagement party on Friday,” Hermione said. “And we’d love it if you could come, Morag.” Morag blushed.

“Can I bring Romilda?” Colin asked.

Ron and Hermione both froze, false smiles plastered across their faces, and it was a tribute to Hermione’s good manners that she managed to say politely, “Of course you can bring Romilda.”

As the Wizards suddenly scored a goal, Ginny seized the opportunity to remark to Ron under the replying roar of the crowd, “Don’t worry; she’s improved since Hogwarts.” Ron looked immensely relieved.

It was decided that they would all stay and watch the game so that Ron and Hermione could talk to Dean afterwards. The group moved to the bench Neville and Morag had been on and found seats, and the talk soon turned to old acquaintances.

“I hear Ernie Macmillan’s getting married,” Colin said.

“To Hannah Abbot, of course,” Hermione replied. “We certainly saw that one coming. And I hear Seamus Finnigan’s gotten quite serious about a girl.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Ginny grinned.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Neville asked. “The whole Switzerland thing?” He laughed. “Apparently that one worked out well for Pansy Parkinson. A girl at work said she saw her at a restaurant with some German fellow.”

“Not Jens Reichmann the third?” Ginny gasped, choking back laughter. “Good girl, Pansy. Good girl.”

As the good-natured banter went on, Morag, sitting next to Ginny, suddenly spoke. “So, Mrs. Malfoy-”

“Please, call me Ginny.”

“Of course.” Morag smiled. “I was just wondering about your last name. Is it-”

“Draco Malfoy? Yes, that’s my husband.”

“How did that happen? I mean, I remember him always fighting with your brother-” She paused, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry. Is that too forward?”

“No, it’s all right,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Most people wonder the same thing.” She shrugged. “I would never have expected us to end up together, either, but we’ve both changed a lot since school.” A glance over at her brother, and then: “But Ron still hasn’t really accepted him.”

“I’m sorry,” Morag said softly.

“It’s all right,” Ginny laughed. “We’re working on it.”

“Draco was in the Order of the Phoenix, wasn’t he?” Morag asked, glancing around covertly as though expecting Death Eaters to be spying on them from behind the trees.

“He was,” Ginny said proudly.

“That was very brave of him.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s found you.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said warmly. “And I could say the same thing about you and Neville. He’s been a good friend for a long time, and I’m glad he’s so happy right now.” She’d been worried about Neville since she’d heard that Colin was dating Romilda. With one best friend married and the other in a serious relationship, where did that leave Neville? But now he’d found someone.

“Thank you,” Morag said, and Ginny saw Neville, sitting on the other side of her, take her hand and rub it gently. The simple gestured made that twinge in her chest return.

She was happy for him, of course, so happy that she ached for it. But at the same time it added to the burden that she carried in her heart: Neville had found love, Ron and Hermione were to be married, Elise and James were beginning a family together, and where was she? Trapped in a marriage with a man who did not love her back.

. . . . . .

Ginny had changed somehow. Draco couldn’t really pinpoint how or why, but he was sure things were different, in some way that hovered at the back of his mind so he couldn’t help thinking about it. The question lingered all throughout the workweek, and it wasn’t until he was at work on Friday that he realized what it was: she’d stopped touching him.

Of course, it wasn’t like they were a real couple who usually cuddled and held hands, but he’d gotten used to the fact that she usually wasn’t afraid of physical contact. In fact it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her: that she often used tactile communication, whether she was touching his arm comfortingly or giving him a black eye.

But in the past week she’d stopped entirely. She didn’t appear to be mad at him, because she was still as good-humored as ever, but she’d stopped hitting his arm playfully when they had their good-natured quarrels. He still went into her room most nights to talk before they went to sleep, but she no longer leaned her head against his knee. Looking back, the last time he could remember her voluntarily making contact with him was the night he’d told her how his mother died, when she’d leaned against him comfortingly.

And that, he thought with a sinking feeling, might be the source of the problem. Maybe she hadn’t minded being friendly with him when she hadn’t known the whole story, but now that she knew the pathetic details of his life she was pulling away from him.

It was a disconcerting thought. Her words from that first day they’d spent as husband and wife echoed in his head: “I should be the one person- and this should be the one place where you’re always safe.” She seemed to have meant it then, meant that she wouldn’t judge him for his past or his family, but maybe she’d changed her mind when she heard about how weak the Malfoys really were and how Voldemort had managed to destroy the family completely, how the Dark Lord’s “glorious cause” had killed off Draco’s parents one by one and left him entirely alone. He wished he hadn’t told Ginny about his mother. He hadn’t actually talked to anyone about Narcissa since her funeral, and he hadn’t meant to start with Ginny, but something about her invited confession and promised solace. And he’d given in and revealed the family’s dark secrets. He couldn’t blame her if she was disgusted by the family she’d married into. He’d be hurt, but he couldn’t blame her.

Draco quickly quashed that line of thought. He would not be hurt by her. What did her opinion matter, really? It wasn’t a real marriage. It was two people playing house to fool everyone around them, and it had been doomed to end in divorce before it had even begun. It didn’t matter what Ginny thought of his family as long as she kept up her end of the bargain.

But he still wished he hadn’t told her.

On Friday they went to Ron and Hermione’s engagement party at the Burrow. At any previous point in his life, Draco would have shuddered at the thought of spending the evening at the Burrow, celebrating the impending nuptials of a Muggle lover and a Muggleborn. But something had changed. When he thought about it, he supposed he felt he had something to prove to Ginny. He couldn’t say what it was, but it made him greet her parents with exquisite politeness when he and Ginny arrived at the party.

Molly and Arthur both looked shocked, but to their credit, they recovered quickly and greeted him warmly. Arthur asked Draco about his work at the Ministry of Magic, and Molly asked whether he was taking care of her little girl.

“Mum!” Ginny said plaintively, reddening a little. “Of course Draco’s taking good care of me, and before you ask, yes, we’re very happy.”

Surprised at the sudden warmth that spread through him at those words, Draco followed Ginny on to the next group of people to meet, but not before he’d waved jovially over his shoulder at her parents.

“I like them,” he announced. Ginny seemed to be studiously avoiding his gaze, but when she thanked him there was true gratitude in her voice.

Next they talked with Fred and Angelina, whose wedding, Draco vaguely recalled, was within the next few months. They were perfectly suited for each other, he decided: both were good-natured, easy-going, and very witty. He enjoyed talking with them a great deal.

“Why weren’t we invited to their engagement party?” Draco demanded in a whisper as he and Ginny moved away.

“They didn’t have one,” Ginny chuckled. “Fred said if he was going to have a party it’d better involve Firewhisky, and Mum nearly had a heart attack, and Angelina came in and smoothed it over and said she’d rather put that money toward the wedding.”

Draco, looking around at the Burrow, thought that if any money saved by not having a meager party such as the one he was presently at could appreciably affect Fred and Angelina’s wedding budget, then their wedding was going to be a very modest affair. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Remind me that we need to send them an engagement present, too, then.”

Ginny beamed at him, apparently still amused at his insistence about the giving of engagement presents. When he’d found out earlier that week that Ron and Hermione were engaged, the first thing he’d done, of course, was make several snide comments, mostly about Ron, which made Ginny stick out her tongue at him. But the second thing he’d done was to send an owl to Johann Schiller, a jeweler and glass blower in Germany. He explained to Ginny that it was a long-standing Malfoy family tradition to give Schiller mirrors as engagement presents to family members and close friends. Ginny had shrugged and acquiesced, remarking only that Salazar Slytherin must be rolling over in his grave to hear Draco Malfoy referring to Ron and Hermione as his family.

The Malfoys talked to Bill and Fleur then, and then with Seamus and Calliope. Draco found himself quite relieved to see Seamus there. He was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t know anyone at the party- unless one counted antagonizing and throwing hexes at someone as “knowing them,” which Draco really didn’t- and he immediately fell into conversation with his co-worker.

After a few minutes, the line to greet the happy couple had dwindled, and Ginny led Draco across the room to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, gazing at each other in a loving way that made didn’t make Draco as ill as he’d expected it would. “You came!” Hermione cried when she saw the Malfoys approach, and Draco felt sure that her surprise came from seeing him there. He had been rather shocked himself when Ginny had told him that he’d been invited.

But if Hermione was surprised to see him, she hid it well. After hugging Ginny tightly, she moved on to Draco; he waited to see if she’d dare try to hug him, but all she did, after a brief hesitation, was to take one of his hands in both of hers and say sincerely, “Thank you for coming.”

He had always tolerated Hermione better than either of her two friends, so he smiled. “Thank you for inviting me. And congratulations.”

Hermione gave a pleased smile and opened her mouth as though to continue, but just then Ron finished his conversation with Ginny and turned to Draco. Hermione fell silent and released Draco’s hand, and both she and Ginny watched breathlessly as their significant others faced each other. The look in Ron’s eye was hard and wary, and Draco was tempted to say something snide, as his rival was no doubt expecting him to do. At the last moment, however, he remembered that he was an invited guest, so instead of insulting Ron he extended his hand at just the same moment that Ron did the same. And slowly, reluctantly, the old enemies shook hands.

“Congratulations,” Draco said.

“Thanks,” Ron replied.

And that was all, but from the looks on Ginny’s and Hermione’s faces, it was enough.

Remembering his and Ginny’s conversation from earlier, Draco reached into his pocket then and pulled out a small box wrapped in white paper. A tap from his wand restored it to its original size, and he handed it to Hermione. “Happy engagement.”

“This is really heavy,” Hermione said, lifting the box up and down. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” Ginny suggested. She had seen the mirror when it had been delivered and had immediately declared that it was absolutely beautiful and that Hermione was going to love it.

Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged, then sat down with the box balanced on her knees and began carefully untaping the paper. Draco, watching with amusement, reflected that he might have something in common with his future sister-in-law after all. The Weasley siblings, in contrast, both looked impatient as they waited for Hermione to finish.

Finally the paper was off and Hermione lifted the lid of the box, moved the tissue paper out of the way, and then gasped as she lifted the mirror out of the box. “Ginny, Draco, this is beautiful,” she said, running a finger down the ornate gold frame.

“Apparently they’re a Malfoy family tradition,” Ginny replied with a laugh.

Draco explained, “It’s enchanted to show anyone who’s been put into the spell, no matter where they are. My grandmother always said that they’re good for keeping track of children.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Is this a Schiller mirror?”

Draco nodded. “The original Schiller died, but his son still makes them in Germany.”

Ron seemed somewhat impressed by the mirror, but Hermione was still staring at it in shock. “Draco,” she said, “these are really expensive. I mean, really, really expensive.”

Draco shrugged, mildly uncomfortable. Of course it was expensive, but for most of his friends and relatives, a gift like this was normal, even expected. He wasn’t used to people being as surprised by his generosity as Hermione seemed to be, so it was quite a shock to him when she handed the mirror carefully to Ginny and then threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Draco replied, very uncomfortably, one hand coming up to awkwardly pat her on the back.

“You can stop now,” Ron said loudly.

“That might be best,” Draco agreed, carefully extracting himself from Hermione’s embrace.

“I’m glad to see you two agreeing with each other,” Ginny said dryly as Ron slipped a protective arm around his fiancee’s waist. Their small group talked for a few moments more, and then the Malfoys excused themselves. Draco followed Ginny to the kitchen, but not before he noticed with great amusement that Hermione was carefully, almost lovingly putting the mirror back in its enchanted box.

Ginny glanced back to see what he was looking at. “How expensive was that mirror?” she asked as Draco followed her into the kitchen and shut the door.

Draco didn’t answer for a moment, too busy marveling at the tiny size of the kitchen. But at least it was empty except for him and Ginny, and he could have a moment to himself away from the crowds of Weasleys. “Somewhat expensive, I suppose, but I’ve never had anyone react like that before. I hope Ron isn’t going to hex me now.”

“He didn’t look pleased,” Ginny laughed, grabbing a plate and filling it with fruit. “It looks like even when you’re not trying to, you upset my brother.” She was quiet a moment. “So you give those out to everyone you know?”

“Only those we’re close to. James and Elise have one in their front hall. You’ve never noticed it?”

Ginny shrugged and shook her head. “Does the Manor have one?”

“Gift from my grandparents,” Draco replied, nodding his head. “It’s in my mother’s favorite sitting room, near the dining room. I never go in there anymore. It-” this felt very personal, but this was Ginny, after all, his Ginny, and if anyone would understand it was her- “it just reminds me too much of her.”

She nodded and took the cup of punch he had just filled for her- with no ice cubes, as he knew she liked it- and took a sip, her brow furrowed as though she was in thought. “So if it shows where you are at any given time,” she said, “why did your father never look in it and realize that you were in the Order of the Phoenix?”

“There’s a spell you use to make people visible to the mirror, and that person has to actually take part in the casting- it’s a precaution against people using it to spy on others. Before I left, I ended the spell that made me visible to the mirror, so my father couldn’t see me through it.”

Ginny handed him a plate of strawberries, his favorite, and nodded thoughtfully. “So now your mirror is just gathering dust?”

Draco shrugged. “I thought about pulling it out when I moved back home, but I had no family and there was no one else I cared to keep an eye on.”

He paused. The next statement was obvious. He should tell her that when they got home, he was going to pull it out and they could both cast the spell and they would always know how to find each other, just like a proper family. But then a sudden, horrible thought plagued him- what if she said no? So he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t say anything. They just looked at each other, and it wasn’t until George and Hannah entered the kitchen that either Malfoy moved.

Hannah greeted both Draco and Ginny with exuberant hugs, scolding them all the while for not visiting. George was nearly as effusive as his wife; apparently he’d forgiven Draco entirely for the anti-Muggle charm incident. After that, Ginny wanted to talk to the rest of the party, and Draco patiently tagged along as she chatted with Charlie and his wife, Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, and even Hermione’s Muggle parents.

Draco very nearly drew the line right there. Deciding not to join Voldemort in killing Muggles was one thing, but socializing with them was an entirely different affair. He tried to come up with some way to excuse himself, but by then Ginny was already halfway across the room toward them and to walk away from her side now, when everyone could see them, would make both of them look bad. So he dutifully followed her to speak with the Grangers and actually found them to be decent sorts- for Muggles, of course.

The rest of the evening carried on in much the same way. Draco talked at length with Seamus and Calliope and Hannah; he played catch in the backyard with Bill’s little girls; and he dutifully greeted every person Ginny introduced him to, though he didn’t even bother to try to remember names because he was sure he’d never see half of these people again. He was impressed with how Ginny remembered so many people- not only names, but things they cared about or things that were happening in their lives. Everyone who spoke to Ginny left smiling. Draco spent much of the evening watching her fondly as she made the rounds to greet everyone.

To his surprise, the evening was generally significantly more pleasant than he’d thought it would be. The only thing that marred his good mood was the late arrival of three young adults, one of whom was Neville Longbottom and two of whom looked vaguely familiar to Draco. He had to ask Luna, who’d roped him into a conversation about the medicinal properties of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, who they were. She explained that they’d all gone to Hogwarts and been in his year. The girl was Morag MacDougal and the tall, handsome man was Dean Thomas.

“I think Ginny’s mentioned him,” Draco commented to Luna.

“It makes sense,” Luna said serenely. “They dated her fifth year. I think he’s the only ex-boyfriend that she keeps in touch with.”

“Why does she keep in touch with him?” he asked abruptly, his good mood suddenly gone.

“Perhaps because he lives in London. Or perhaps because they always have gotten along so well. But I think it’s nice that they can still be friends, don’t you agree?” Luna replied, looking over at where Ginny was greeting Dean with a hug.

She said something else, but Draco wasn’t really listening at that point, staring instead at his wife and her ex-boyfriend. It was ridiculous, a small part of him knew, especially considering the fact that he’d recently spent a week in the same house as his ex-girlfriend, but the feeling in his stomach remained. He wanted to walk over there and say-

“Mr. Malfoy!” came a rather proper voice suddenly, derailing his train of thought.

Draco turned. “Professor Lupin,” he said politely, though they’d been Draco and Remus to each other during the war.

“I understand you’ve married our Miss Weasley,” his old teacher said. “Congratulations. She’s a wonderful girl.”

“Thank you. And yes, she is,” Draco responded without thinking. Remus studied him a long moment and was about to speak when a the owner of a head of pink hair appeared behind his left shoulder and threw a pair of slender arms around him.

“I’ve been looking all over- wotcher, Draco!”

“Hello, Tonks,” Draco said dutifully. His cousin had tried, during Draco’s time in the Order, to improve family relations, but Draco’s reluctance and reticence had hampered her efforts a great deal. Still, the experience had served to remind Draco that the Tonkses were the only family he had left, so he tried to be civil whenever he saw Tonks, which he took pains to ensure happened as rarely as possible.

“I heard about you and Ginny,” Tonks continued. “I was gobsmacked, I don’t mind telling you. Absolute last thing I expected.”

“Nymphadora,” Remus said, a note of reprimand in his voice.

“It’s all right,” Draco shrugged. “It’s the absolute last thing I expected, too.”

“So why didn’t we get a wedding announcement or anything?” Tonks demanded.

Draco supposed that she was thinking that Ginny ought to have sent the Lupins an announcement, because she was daft if she thought he would ever have sent her one. “No one got one,” he shrugged. “We eloped.”

“But don’t worry,” came Ginny’s voice from behind him. “You would have gotten one if anyone had.”

Draco turned to see his wife approaching, accompanied by her parents, and he felt a sudden rush of pleasure at seeing her standing by his side and not talking with that ex-boyfriend of hers. The Malfoys exchanged smiles, and Draco said, “It just all happened so quickly. There was really no time for anything like that.”

“Yes, it’s a pity your wedding did happen so fast,” Molly said with a sigh. Then she perked up. “But can you believe this? My last three children, all married in the same year. We should get a new family portrait taken.”

Draco had to stifle a snort of laughter at the thought of his picture hanging in the Burrow. But then he thought about that picture being obsolete within a year; after all, he would not be in the Weasley family for long. He wondered if Ginny was thinking of the same thing. He wondered if it made her sorry. He wondered why the thought suddenly made him feel very alone. And with all of these thoughts running through his head, he was very glad when Charlie suddenly came to tell his parents goodbye and he and Ginny could excuse themselves.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Ginny spoke. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t anything like as fancy as you’re used to.”

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t want Ginny to think he looked down on her for her humble upbringing. But if she did think so, he had no one to blame for himself, because until very, very recently, looking down on her for her family and past was exactly what he had done. But that was more than he knew how to explain, so after a moment he said only, “You’re welcome.”

“Ginny,” Molly said suddenly, coming up behind them, “could you do me a favor and run this chair up to your old room? I brought it down for the party but it looks like we’re about done down here.”

Draco looked around as Molly handed the chair, shrunk for convenience, and realized that his mother-in-law was right: everyone was leaving. He had survived an entire evening with the Weasley family. And in truth, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d been expecting. He smiled, very impressed with himself, and then decided to accompany Ginny on her errand.

“Are you sure?” she asked as they mounted the stairs.

“Why not?” Draco shrugged. “Seeing your room could be educational. It could lend me insight into how you became the Muggle-loving saint you are today.”

“I think I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she laughed, and opened the door to a tiny bedroom on the third floor.

“This is it?” Draco asked, looking around the room in shock. “I can see why you were so impressed by my nursery.”

“Yes, but growing up in these circumstances, I’m sure you can see why I grew up to be so down-to-earth and well-adjusted.”

“And cocky, apparently.”

“Well, of course cocky,” she replied. She led him to the far wall, through a curtained door, and onto a tiny balcony. There was barely room for the two of them to stand side by side.

“I used to spend so much time out here,” Ginny said reminiscently. “It was the only place I could be alone.” It was too dark to see her face, but from her voice Draco was sure she was smiling, and it made him smile. She seemed so content, so peaceful. That seemed to be her gift in life: the ability to find happiness in any situation.

And her habitual good nature seemed to be rubbing off on him. Life had been different lately. It was calmer, steadier, happier. He’d been happy as a child, of course, but for a long time now his life had been unsettled at best, and at times quite unhappy. It had been some ten years ago that his life had begun, very slowly, to change. It was then that he began to worry about the threat of war with Lord Voldemort- or was it then that he began to understand the true nature of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy’s ideals?- and that was when everything began to feel different.

This discontent had plagued him for some time, until finally, spurred on by his mother’s death, he joined the Order of the Phoenix. He’d felt better about himself, then, but he also found a whole new set of worries: what his father would do if he found out that Draco was living in the old Black house and secretly helping the Order. Of course, he needn’t have worried; Lucius died before he ever discovered that his son was not, as he claimed, out of the country to flee the war

This didn’t make Draco feel any better, though, and in the time since the war’s end, he’d discovered that some dark, lonely nights stretched on far too long. But it was different now. Perhaps it was having someone to talk to, or perhaps it was the fact that this someone was so warm and caring, but Draco was happy again. He smiled down at Ginny again. He never wanted this moment to end. A frown suddenly crossed his face. He wanted the moment to never end, and he wanted Ginny not to leave. It was such a strange thought that he pushed it back into the depths of his mind and concentrated simply on the sound of the wind in his ears.

“It could have been worse,” he said suddenly.

“What could have been?” Ginny asked.

“This. Us. I mean, of all the people I could have married, I was lucky enough to choose someone that I’ve come to really like.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding almost shy. “Thank you.”

And then, without thinking, he was putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a lopsided hug, hampered by the rails of the tiny balcony. She relaxed immediately into his embrace and the Malfoys stood together in something like wedded bliss for a brief moment. Draco would have held on to Ginny longer but he suddenly felt unwell, a feeling that disappeared when he released her. It seemed strange, but then, he’d eaten an entire plate of shortbread at the party. So he shrugged it off and stared up at the stars, content simply to be with his wife.

“Thanks again for putting up with my family,” Ginny said after a moment.

“We all have to face trials in this life,” Draco shrugged, and Ginny elbowed him. That made him smile. Things had been strange between them that week, but if she was back to elbowing him, they were going to be all right.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

A man who does not lose his reason over certain things has none to lose. - Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

. . . . . .

Ginny Weasley was not the sort of person to blindly hope that everything was going to turn out all right. Perhaps she had been, once, but that was before her best friend had turned out to be Tom Riddle and she’d very nearly gotten herself and her fellow students killed as a result of his deception and betrayal. That had been hard for her, harder than most people knew. She had gotten over it, but the experience had changed her. She was still just as upbeat and outgoing as she had ever been, but she found it harder to trust other people, to trust herself, to trust in the general goodness of the world- which was why it was so surprising that she had started to hope that maybe things with Draco would work out after all.

He hadn’t declared his undying love for her yet, of course, and she still felt somewhat inferior when she reflected on the type of girl he had dated in his past- even Pansy Parkinson, ill-mannered and alcoholic, was well-bred and sophisticated- but Ginny felt she and Draco had been getting along very well of late. Maybe there was a chance that . . .

That what? she demanded of herself as her mind wandered down that path yet again the Thursday after the party. She tried very hard to ignore that thought, as she had been doing for two weeks now, but it persisted and she finally gave in and decided that maybe it would be wise after all to decide for herself what she wanted. She wanted Draco to return her love, that was sure, but how? Did she want a boyfriend? Or did she want him to tell her to forget the eighteen-month limit and stay with him forever? It was a question that made her pause. Did she really want to be married to Draco Malfoy for as long as they both should live? Did she want Draco Malfoy to father her children? Did she want to throw her lot in with him, to be Mrs. Malfoy for the rest of her life?

She was pondering all this from inside a heavy quilt on a chair on a balcony on the fourth floor. It had been a long day at work and she’d come out to watch the sunset and relax, bringing a quilt to fight off the chill still lingering from the afternoon’s rainstorm. With she and Draco being so close lately, Ginny might have dared to ask him to come sit with her, but he wasn’t there. Another business trip had come up, which was in some ways better and in many ways much worse. It was nice not to be in such a constant state of worry about what he was thinking about her and what he thought she was thinking about him, but on the other hand she missed him a great deal. And he wasn’t expected home until Sunday. If they ever did get married- or stay married, she amended to herself- she hoped he wouldn’t leave on business so much.

Of course, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he was in the habit of leaving so often on business; for as long as he’d been working at the Ministry, he hadn’t had anyone he was leaving behind. That was another disconcerting thought. He’d never had anyone depending on him before. Was she holding him back from things he really wanted to do? Did he resent her being there?

She was inclined to think not. After all, he did seem to get along with her quite well. Sometimes she thought that they were friends. He had even hugged her of his own volition at Ron and Hermione’s party. And people hugged their friends, didn’t they?

But did he want to be more than that? And did she want him to be more than that? She found herself fiddling absent-mindedly with her ring, and after a moment she pulled it off and looked at the back of her hand. There was a dent and a white line where the ring had been. She knew that if she stopped wearing it, the mark it had left would soon disappear. But she also knew that it would take much longer than that for her to forget the mark that this marriage to Draco had left on her.

She slipped her ring back on her finger. “This is what I want,” she said aloud, but softly, afraid someone would hear. And then she leaned her head back against the chair and sighed.

Wednesday was a holiday in the wizard world, a five hundred year-old celebration of the day that, according to legend, the wizards and witches of Britain abolished feudal rule and set up the Ministry of Magic. Ginny got ready for work that morning while enduring no end of ribbing from Draco, who didn’t have to work because the entire Ministry shut down for the holiday.

Ginny thought that was fairly silly to give every employee the day off, especially considering that the Death Eaters had taken advantage of the total emptiness of the building when they’d tried to take over the Ministry offices on that exact day several years earlier. But, she supposed, it wasn’t her concern, so she left for work after saying goodbye to Draco, who suddenly seemed somewhat subdued despite his earlier high spirits in teasing her.

Her curiosity over his sudden reticence plagued her all day. It was a very slow day at St. Mungo’s, and she had plenty of time to wonder.

“I guess England’s behaving herself today,” Glennis said, coming up behind Ginny in the break room.

Ginny nodded her agreement. It was one-thirty in the afternoon and they’d only had two emergency calls the entire day. “You’d think that with the holiday more people would be out doing things and getting themselves injured.”

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about the holiday,” Glennis said. “Not that many businesses close for it anymore.”

“Except the Ministry,” Ginny said, her mind still on Draco.

“Oh, so your husband is off for the day,” Glennis said. “How dreadful that you’re stuck here.” She took a moment to check her wristwatch and said, “You know, I’ve got two new trainees coming in at two. How about you show them around, and then take the rest of the day off?”

Ginny was only too ready to agree to such a plan, and by a quarter to three she was back at Malfoy Manor. As she opened the front door, she nearly knocked over the house elf who was on the other side, polishing the doorknob. “Sorry!” she cried as the elf steadied herself.

“It is not Mistress’s fault,” the elf squeaked, clearly not used to being addressed by the mistress. “Sully should not have been behind the door.”

“You didn’t know I was coming,” Ginny said reassuringly before the elf got the idea to start beating herself for being knocked over. “Say, have you seen Draco?”

The elf appeared to be thinking hard. “Sully heard Master was going to visit old Master and Mistress’s graves.”

“His parents?” Ginny asked. “In London?”

“Sully is not sure,” the elf said. “Bernard might know-”

“It’s all right,” Ginny said, not wanting to trouble the elf more than she already had. “Thank you.” It would make sense, after all- the thought of visiting his parents’ graves would explain his somber mood that morning, and besides, many people used the holiday as a sort of day of remembrance for their dead. And that meant that Draco was most likely in London, in the national wizarding graveyard in Croydon. At least, she knew that Narcissa was buried there.

She considered going to find him, but she felt sure that if Draco had wanted her there he would have asked her to come. He probably wanted this time to himself, and she was willing to let him have that.

What to do, then? She considered catching up on paperwork- or sleep- but then she thought of the wonderful weather outside and decided to explore the park behind the house. She’d only ever been where Draco had taken her, and she wanted to see more of the beautiful grounds. After changing out of her work robes, she walked out back, picked a path, and headed off into the park.

The day was warm, the scenery beautiful, and Ginny smiled contentedly as she walked. The manicured yard soon gave way to meadows, interrupted by an occasional copse of trees, though the real woods were around the edge of the land. The scene was so sylvan, so serenely rural, that she almost gasped in surprise when she came out of a clump of trees at the top of a small hill and saw, to her left and some distance away in the trees, a gate in a tall stone wall. She was sure she hadn’t reached the edge of the Malfoy property, so, curious, she left the path and walked toward it.

It was a cemetery, as it turned out, completely hidden from view of the house by a tall group of trees. That didn’t surprise Ginny; before the construction of the national cemetery in London, those rich enough to own land in the country had been buried behind their houses. She wasn’t normally the type to frequent cemeteries, but she was curious and didn’t have anything else to do, and she tried the gate. It was closed but not locked, and she slipped through, surprised that it didn’t squeak as she closed it behind her.

The cemetery was not large- at least, in comparison with the national cemetery, which was the only graveyard with which she was very familiar- and surrounded on all sides by the stone wall. Within the walls were dozens of graves, most of them quite impressive and flanked by statues. Looking around, she saw the dates on the headstones were all from the eighteenth century or before; the national cemetery had been built in 1805, she knew, so it seemed her guess about the cemetery’s use was correct. She moved among the trees and statues, quietly examining the graves and the unfamiliar names on them and feeling a strange sense of respect for these, her newly discovered Malfoy kin.

She was so absorbed in looking around that she didn’t notice Draco until she was nearly right on top of him. He was some twenty feet away, his back to her, looking at a grave whose headstone seemed significantly newer than the others she’d seen. He was so still, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, that she suddenly felt that she’d walked into something she shouldn’t. So, holding her breath, she began slowly backing away.

“I already know you’re there, Ginny.”

Fighting back an embarrassed grimace but still glad to see Draco, she walked toward him. “Sorry to barge in on you like this,” she said. “The house elves said you’d gone to London.”

He didn’t look at her. “So you decided to take advantage of my absence to go poking around a graveyard?” His voice was strangely flat.

She chuckled and immediately felt strange doing it in such a somber setting. “Glennis let me leave work early and I decided to take a walk, but then I saw this and I wanted to know what it was, and . . . anyway, I really thought you were in London. The house elf said you were at your parents’ graves.”

Draco was silent. After a moment, Ginny dared another step forward to read the simple headstone Draco was looking at, and she was shocked to see that the name carved there was Lucius Malfoy. Based on the death date it was the anniversary of his passing, and Ginny bit her lip as she suddenly remembered that Lucius had been killed in the raid on the Ministry exactly two years ago.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I forgot, and when they said you were at the cemetery, I just assumed it was the one in London, because I thought your mum was buried there-”

“She is buried there,” Draco said, shortly and acrimoniously. He still hadn’t looked at her, and it was then that she realized that he was angry- although, it seemed, not at her.

She hadn’t seen him angry like this since their first day of marriage. She didn’t know if she should stay or flee and leave him with his grief. But she wanted to be there for him, if he needed her, so she asked, softly, “Why isn’t your father there, too?”

He finally looked at her, his smile false and laced with bitterness. “Didn’t you know? They don’t bury war criminals there. He and Mother bought that plot twenty years ago, and they always planned to be there together. But when I went to bury him the Ministry told me that they didn’t want him in their cemetery.”

“Did they let you have a funeral?”

“Of course. In fact, they let me use the Great Hall at Hogwarts. My father always was a favorite there.” And then he was staring down at the grave again, his moment of sarcastic anger over. “No, we just buried him. The house elves and I were the entire funeral party.” And then he stopped and pursed his lips together, as though he felt he’d said too much.

“No one else was there?” Ginny asked in shock.

“Snape was going to come, but then Voldemort summoned him,” Draco said, his voice once again flat. He was withdrawing, Ginny knew, hiding his emotions away from her in an attempt to maintain his illusion of confident carelessness. “The Death Eaters never cared much about taking time to bury their dead.”

“When was this?”

He didn’t respond until she repeated her question. And then, reluctantly, he said, “The day after the battle.”

“The day after,” Ginny repeated softly, her eyes widening. Things were beginning to fall into place, memories and events, and she had a feeling she knew more about that day than she’d originally thought. Draco looked away from her, a movement that Ginny recognized as a sign of discomfort, and she knew she was right. “The day back in the war, when you dragged me away from the Burrow and made me stand watch in your front hall all afternoon, you were out here burying your father.” She remembered that day only too well.

“There was no one else,” he said, and then winced as though he regretted speaking.

That struck her like a blow, the thought that he had once been so alone in the world that the only people he could find to help him with his father’s burial were the servants and an ill-tempered girl he had to coerce into helping. She thought of how she’d been so angry afterwards that she’d hit him, and her face burned with shame. “What about Elise or James?”

“Everyone still thought I was on the Continent. It had to be someone in the Order.” He sounded resigned, and Ginny knew that his brief moment of emotional openness was nearly over. If she didn’t keep him talking, she’d lose him back behind his usual facade.

“I was so angry with you for pulling me away from the party,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”

But apparently he was done talking. “Go back to the house, Ginny,” he said, his voice entirely flat, and she knew she’d lost this chance to see behind his mask.

“Draco, I’m sorry I hit you that day,” she tried again.

“Go home, Ginny,” he said, his voice still colorless but suddenly so firm that she was three steps toward the gate before she stopped herself. Her first inclination was to leave him alone, as he claimed to want, but then as she stopped and looked back at him, she had a sudden vision of him standing in that same spot two years earlier, looking down at a freshly dug grave, then, as now, very, very alone. She hadn’t done anything about it then- hadn’t known he was alone then, hadn’t loved him then- but now things were different. Without thinking it through any further, she marched the three steps back to Draco and grabbed his hand.

His response was so immediate it was almost comical- or would have been, in another situation. Draco immediately began trying to get away from her, pulling his arm away and swinging and twisting their joined hands in an attempt to extract his fingers from her firm grip. “Let go of me,” he said harshly.

“No.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so upset by her touch. As he kept flailing and telling her to let go, Ginny saw his expression become increasingly agitated, as though his mask was crumbling into pieces and allowing his real feelings to show through. She stood fast, her fingers clamped tight around his, though he was strong and it was hard to hold on to him.

“Ginny, let go,” he begged one last time, sounding desperate.

“Not until you talk to me, Draco.”

Then she saw, with sudden shock, that there were now tears running down his face. She was so surprised that she almost released his hand, but at that moment he stopped resisting her and stood stock still. “Don’t you get it?” he shouted through his tears. “I killed him. I killed my own father.”

She shook her head, surprised and confused. “You weren’t even there.”

“I was supposed to be there. I Apparated over with everyone else, but then I saw my father there and I couldn’t stand to face him. He still didn’t know I’d joined the Order. He thought I was hiding out on the Continent. I’d decided I’d rather have him think I was a coward than to know that I’d turned against him.”

“Draco-”

“Even when I was in the Order, it never occurred to me that he might die. He always managed to get out of everything. But I killed him.”

“The Order killed him,” Ginny said placatingly, inwardly wondering how Draco could think he’d killed his father when she knew for a fact that it was Ron and Hermione who had. “He was a casualty of war.”

Draco shook his head, and something in Ginny’s mind vaguely registered that at some point, she’d stopped squeezing his hand and it was now he who was gripping her hand as though she was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. “The Death Eaters were using a special defensive spell,” he choked out. “I told the Order how to get past it. If I hadn’t, they never could have killed him.” He looked at her desperately. “Who would do that to their own father?”

They were getting into dangerous waters. Ginny desperately wished that Dumbledore or even Remus Lupin were there instead of her. They would know what to say to comfort the suddenly unstable Draco Malfoy. He at least deserved that, instead of her clumsy words. “You did the right thing,” she said, because it was the one thing that made sense.

“How could that have possibly been the right thing?” Draco was no longer shouting or pulling away from her, but tears were still streaming down his face. “There have only ever been two people in the world who really loved me, and after one died I betrayed the other to join the Order. How could the right thing make me make him die?”

Three people, she thought sadly, and put her free hand on his free arm. “You didn’t make your father do anything,” she said firmly. “He followed Voldemort of his own free will and you were only reacting to that. It was a war. He had to have known that people die in wars and that by starting one, he was in danger. And you were only doing what felt right to you. That’s the only thing that you’re accountable for. You are not responsible for your father’s bad choices.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed, as though this was the first time he’d heard of such a thing. His shoulders were still shaking and he looked tired. She sighed and pulled out her wand, then slipped one arm around him. He didn’t protest as she Apparated away to the Manor. Ignoring the surprised looks of the house elves, she fetched him a glass of water from the kitchen, then Apparated again, this time up to his bedroom. “You should try to get some sleep, Draco.”

He obediently slipped off his shoes and robe and climbed under the covers, shaking his head when she offered him the water she’d gotten. She used her wand to extinguish the lights, then reached down to brush the hair out of his face. His eyes were closed and she thought she was already asleep, but suddenly he opened his eyes and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t go,” he whispered. She tried to pull away but his grip was tight and he was staring up at her pleadingly.

This is a bad idea, she told herself. It’s just because he’s upset, and when he’s feeling better he’ll forget about this and it will just hurt you. But as reasonable as this was, Ginny couldn’t abandon her Draco when he need her. So she set her wand on the bedside table and kicked off her shoes, Draco still grasping her hand, and then she climbed onto the bed and over the lump he made under the covers. “Because you always sleep on the right,” she whispered as she situated herself on the left side of the bed- on top of the covers, she told herself firmly. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, and she scooted close to him and put the arm he still held around him. He relaxed into her embrace, his shoulders still shaking with the occasional hiccup. Soon his grip on her hand loosened and she knew he was asleep.

She lay there next to him for a few moments, torn as to what to do next. Part of her wanted to stay there with him, to see how he reacted when he awoke. But the more rational part of her was afraid that he would be upset that she was there, and after a brief internal struggle that rational side won. Moving carefully, she extracted her hand from his and slid off the other side of the bed, then collected her shoes and her wand and slipped into her own room, leaving Draco once again alone.

. . . . . .

It was highly inconvenient, Severus Snape reflected for not the first time, to be given stewardship of a place so far from Hogwarts. He visited Malfoy Manor at least once a week, and getting there required quite a bit of travel, what with the anti-Apparation spells at the school. What was even worse than going to Malfoy Manor once a week, however, was going twice a week, as he was forced to do that Wednesday afternoon. There was some business that needed taking care of, and Wednesday was the only evening of the entire week that suited him to leave the school. So, with a sigh, he wrapped his cloak around himself and began the journey to Malfoy Manor.

In truth, though, Severus didn’t mind the trips to Malfoy Manor nearly as much as he once had. Things had definitely improved in the last few months. Draco was much more open with him lately, much more patient and understanding, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why: it was all one Ginevra Weasley Malfoy. Which led to the second reason Severus no longer minded making trips to Malfoy Manor: he had recently taken to observing Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and trying to gauge their feelings for each other.

It was certainly a strange pastime for the potions master. Severus had never had any interest in other people’s love lives before, but that was before Draco and Ginny. He had to admit, he had not been pleased to find out those two had wed, especially given the questionable circumstances around it. Since then, however, things had changed. Severus had seen the influence Ginny had on Draco, had seen the way she was able to handle him and his unpredictable emotions and his high-handed ways better than any of his earlier girlfriends. And soon after Severus had observed this, he’d found himself wishing that their marriage were not so temporary. And soon after that, he’d made up his mind that Draco ought not to let Ginny get away from him.

Of course it was highly unusual for a Weasley to join into the Malfoy line, but Ginny had proven that she could bear the Malfoy name with dignity. And Draco needed a wife. Severus wanted him to have someone to look after him, to keep him in line, to mother his heir. Most of all, though Severus would have eaten wolfsbane rather than admit it, he wanted his young friend to be happy. And although Ginny and Draco were a strange pair, since their wedding Draco had been happier than Severus had seen him in years. Yes, it was time that Draco settled down, and the perfect woman was already wearing his ring. The only question left, the one that Severus had been ruminating on for some time, was how to get Draco to realize this.

He was still thinking about it when he arrived at Malfoy Manor and rang the bell. Bernard the house elf showed him in with exquisite correctness, then spoke apologetically. Severus decided that it was a sign of how familiar he was becoming at the Manor, that the house elf dared to offer his opinions. “I’m not sure Master Draco is entirely up to callers today, Master Snape. Today is, as you may recall, the anniversary of Master Lucius’s death, and Master Draco spent the day visiting his parents’ graves.”

“Where is he now?” Severus asked resignedly. He’d completely forgotten that it was the day Lucius had died, and he was sure that Draco was in no fit state to do business- he took Lucius’s death very hard. It appeared that the trip from Hogwarts had been in vain.

“He is up in his room. But I believe he’s fine now. Mistress Ginny was with him.”

Severus raised his eyebrows in sudden surprise. “What do you mean, with him?” The house elves knew of Draco and Ginny’s sleeping arrangements, but he wasn’t sure if they realized that they were unusual. Still, Bernard would know if Ginny had been in Draco’s room instead of in her own.

Bernard seemed aback by Severus’s sudden interest. “They were out in the family plot together and she helped him back inside. He was crying, and she Apparated with him up to his room.” House elves were very powerful, Severus knew, and he wasn’t surprised that Bernard could sense where his master and mistress had Apparated to.

“Are they still there?” he asked.

“No. I went to ask him a question and he was asleep and she was in her own room. Will there be anything else, Master Snape?”

“No, I’m fine,” Severus said distractedly. “I’ll try back another day.” He let himself out and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, deep in thought. Perhaps Ginny and Draco were even closer than he’d thought. But if Ginny was still in her own room, then perhaps he was misreading the situation. Or perhaps, he decided finally, they were closer than he’d thought, but they hadn’t been able to admit it, to themselves or anyone else.

And that, he decided, was not acceptable. Something needed to be done to convince Draco he didn’t want to lose Ginny. Severus didn’t want Draco to waste any time producing an heir or running Malfoy Manor the way he was always meant to do.

And then the idea hit him, clear and simple and concise. Severus looked up at the clock. It was just before five, so if he hurried he could probably reach the office of the Malfoys’ lawyer before he left for the day. And then, with any luck, Draco and Ginny’s marriage could be sorted out by dinner. A self-satisfied smirk crossed Severus’s face, and he signaled to the bartender that he was done.

The Malfoys’ lawyer, an imposing man named Stirling, was quite surprised by Severus’s request. After examining Lucius’s will, however, he agreed that Severus was well within his rights. He wrote out a document detailing the changes Severus wanted to implement and then they both Apparated to the Wiltshire county government offices. It was closed for the holiday, but Severus had connections with people in the county, and a few calls on the Floo Network got a notary there. While the notary watched, Severus and Mr. Stirling signed the paper. A quick spell made two more copies of the paper; one was filed in the offices there, Mr. Stirling took one with him back to his own offices, and Severus took the last and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

It was a six-thirty by then, which meant the Malfoys were probably eating dinner. Severus was an old friend, however, so he unhesitatingly knocked on the door. Unfortunately, when Bernard answered it, it was only to tell Severus that Draco was still asleep and Ginny had gone to dinner at her parents’ house. Biting back a curse, Severus decided to wake Draco up and then go find Ginny. He would have waited for Ginny to come home, but there was a summer staff meeting at Hogwarts at seven-thirty that he was required to attend.

When he Apparated up to Draco’s room, the popping sound that heralded his arrival woke the young Lord Malfoy with a start. He blinked blearily, and then suddenly his eyes widened and he turned to look at the other side of the bed. It was empty, of course, and somehow that made Draco look disappointed.

It wasn’t until he’d sat up and stretched that he noticed Severus standing in his room. “I know you miss me when you’re away, Severus,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, “but this is just going too far.”

“Hilarious,” Severus said dryly. “I’m here on business, and I decided you’d been sleeping long enough. Since when do you sleep during the middle of the day?” As expected, that made Draco suddenly look uncomfortable. “Never mind,” Severus said. “Come sit down.”

Draco obediently got out of bed and sat at the large oaken table in the corner of his very large suite. Severus sat across from him and clasped his hands. “I’ve been thinking about this setup we have,” he began, “and I don’t like it. I’m always glad to help your family out, but you don’t inherit the estate fully for another fifteen months, and acting as estate steward for the last two years has taken up a great deal of my time and cut into my teaching career.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, sounding mildly confused. “What are you saying, then?”

“You’ve learned a lot over the last few months. I think you’re ready to run Malfoy Manor by yourself.” He took out the paper and set it in front of Draco. “I had Stirling write this up. It turns the Manor over entirely to you, effective immediately.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he set to examining the paper. “Entirely to me?”

“I’ll always be available if you need any help,” Severus went on as Draco read over the deed. “Or I’m sure that Zabini or Stewart would be willing to assist. But I think it’s about time you took on the responsibility. I think you’re ready.”

Draco looked up at him, his lips curving into a smile. Severus knew that he’d been wanting to run the Manor by himself, as his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather had done- it was a matter of pride. “Thank you, Severus,” he said sincerely, then returned to reading.

Severus smiled. It was time to drop the bomb. “And what’s even better,” he said in his best cold-hearted git voice, “is that now no one has any leverage to force you into marriage, and you don’t have to stay in this one. You can drop that Muggle-loving Weasley girl right this moment, if you want.”

Even with Draco looking down at the tabletop, Severus could see his brow furrow. Then the young man slowly looked up at his old teacher, his expression somewhat confused and concerned.

“Just a thought,” Severus said.

“Oh,” said Draco, a thousand different emotions running over his face. “I- uh, I-” And he trailed off.

Severus, who had rarely seen his young friend at a loss for words, carefully hid a smile. “I understand Ginny is visiting her parents tonight.”

“Oh. I . . . Are you going to tell her?”

To say yes would seem strange- if it had really just been Manor business, it wouldn’t have concerned Ginny- so Severus shrugged nonchalantly. “She’s not home, and I don’t really want to wait. But maybe I’ll stop by the Burrow.”

Draco nodded again, still looking confused. Then he stood. “I think- I think I’m going to go see James.” He walked back to his bed and slipped on his robes and shoes. “I’ll talk to you later, Severus. Thank you again.” And then a smile slipped onto his face. “And I’ll- I’ll talk to Ginny.” And then he Apparated away.

Severus smirked, feeling very pleased with himself, and collected the deed off the table. He strolled out of the room and down the stairs at a leisurely pace, wondering whether to go to the Burrow now or wait until Ginny came home. It was only a quarter to seven, and he decided that as long as he left within a half-hour, he’d have time to get back to Hogwarts. With another self-satisfied smile, he sat down in the den to wait.

. . . . . .

It was ten to seven when Ginny left her parents’ house. Normally she would have stayed longer, but her curiosity was killing her. She wondered if Draco was awake yet, what he’d thought about her leaving his bed, if he even remembered that she’d stayed. And so, when the wondering finally got to be too much for her to stand, she bid her parents good night and Apparated home.

She was about to walk upstairs when she saw firelight flickering out of the den. The fire only burned when someone was in the room, so Draco had to be in there. Taking a deep breath and smoothing down her hair with her hands, she walked into the den . . .

. . . and saw Severus Snape. “Professor Snape,” she said, fighting back her disappointment. “What a surprise.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” her old professor replied. “Charming to see you.”

“Are you here for Draco?”

“And you,” he replied. “Have a seat, Ginevra.”

She obediently sat down. “What can I do for you?”

“I have some news that might interest you,” he said. “You know I’ve always been opposed to the way Draco forced you into this marriage, but we now have the means of remedying it.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, fighting back a sudden panic.

“It’s been very hard for me to travel back and forth between Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts every week,” he explained. “I know Lucius wanted me to help Draco out as he learned how to run the estate, but Draco has picked up on it much quicker than expected. I think he’s ready to take full control.” He produced the paper. “This relinquishes my power as temporary steward. Malfoy Manor is now Draco’s.”

“He’ll be happy to hear that,” Ginny said softly. Draco had told her before that he was excited to take over the estate. “But how does this affect me?”

“You’ll recall that Draco was worried that I would force him into a marriage, which is why he decided to marry you until he had full control of the estate,” Snape said, shrugging. “Now he has it, and there’s no reason for you two to carry on this farce.”

There was a moment of silence in which Ginny felt the floor dropping out from under her. “Oh,” she finally said, softly. “How nice.” She sat still a moment, collecting herself, then asked, “Have you told Draco yet?”

“Yes, and I explained that you two can now divorce whenever you should both feel so inclined. I believe he is presently visiting his friend James.” Severus stood and took the paper out of her hands. “I’m glad we had this chat, Ginevra. Please excuse me; I have a meeting at Hogwarts.” And then he Apparated away, leaving Ginny alone in the den.

Ginny sat very still after he was gone, sure her heart had stopped beating. It was over. She’d thought she’d have months left in which to convince Draco to love her, but her time with him was suddenly gone. She stared at the fire and wondered how everything could have gone wrong so fast.

How long she sat there she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that at some point in the midst of her meditation, one thought rose out of the swirling sea of emotions that battled inside her chest: tell him. It was her only chance now. And she believed- she hoped- there was a chance that he might not break her heart. They were so close now; surely he must feel something for her. Her mind made up, she resolutely stood and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire. “Elise and James Stewart,” she said clearly.

In a moment, Elise’s smiling face was visible in the flames. “Ginny!” she cried happily. “So good to see you! Are you looking for Draco?”

“Is he there?”

“You just missed him,” Elise said. “By the way, do you know what he’s so happy about?”

There was a long moment where Ginny froze, her breath catching in her throat, and she felt something in her chest twinge. “He was happy?” she asked, very quietly.

“Quite,” Elise replied. “He burst in here not five minutes ago, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and told James he wanted to buy him a drink. He invited me, of course, but with this baby coming . . .” She smiled fondly. “Anyway, they left for Diagon Alley not two minutes ago.”

Ginny looked slowly at the door the Severus had just exited through, then finally released the breath she didn’t realize she was still holding. She looked back at Elise’s form in the flames and suddenly found it very difficult to keep her face still. “So, Draco came over just a few minutes ago, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and told James he wanted to take him out for a drink?”

“Exactly,” Elise said.

Ginny made herself smile. She knew how forced it must look, but she also knew that if she didn’t force it, the tears forming behind her eyes and the lump forming in her throat would overwhelm her. “Thanks, Elise,” she said, fighting with everything she had to keep her smile from turning bitter. “That’s all I needed to know.”

Elise’s face vanished back into the flames, and Ginny fell back heavily on the sofa, the same sofa Draco had been lying on when they’d talked together that first night. That was it. It was really the end of their marriage. If the thought of no longer being married to her made him “grin like a Cheshire cat” and want to buy people drinks, then surely he felt nothing for her. No, he felt something for her: he despised her. He must, or why would he be so thrilled to have a chance to get away? She laid her head against the back of the sofa and began to cry.

It didn’t last long, however, as she was suddenly struck with the thought that she absolutely couldn’t be at the Manor when Draco got home. She couldn’t bear to face him when he told her he wanted her to move out. It would be far easier to leave, holding on to what dignity she could, before he could break her heart.

It didn’t take long to pack up her room, even without the house elves’ help; she didn’t think she could even face them. In a few minutes the nursery stood bare, holding no indications that she’d ever been there- except for her wedding ring, which she set on the dresser. Biting her lip, she Apparated down to the front hall, looking fondly around at the house that had become her home. Opening the front door, she ran her fingers down the molding around the door jamb as a goodbye. Then with a soft pop, she was gone.

. . . . . .

At the Leaky Cauldron, Draco was grinning like a Cheshire cat. His companion looked at him across the table a long moment, then asked, “All right, I’ll take the bait. What’s got you so pleased?”

Draco looked down at his drink, gathering his thoughts, then looked back up. “James,” he said slowly, “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh, no,” James said firmly, bringing his glass down hard onto the table. “You are not doing that to Ginny.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m talking about Ginny.”

“Oh,” James said, somewhat taken aback. Then he added, “You’d think you’d have realized that before the wedding.”

“No, look-” Draco paused, wondering exactly how much to tell his friend. Ginny had made him swear never to tell anyone about the circumstances surrounding their wedding, but he wanted James to understand, and he wanted his advice. And his quiet friend would be very discreet, he knew. “You see . . . Ginny and I were never in love,” he said, looking down at his drink. “It was a marriage of convenience for both us. At the time we got married we both had . . . concerns, I suppose, that being married would solve. We’ve been lying to everyone for the past three months.”

“You two were really never in love?” But before Draco could answer, his friend was continuing. “Honestly, though, sometimes I wondered. You two were . . . distant, on occasion.”

Draco shrugged. “We’ve been lying to everyone,” he repeated, then looked past James’s head at the wall behind him. “But something changed and I really . . . I love her.”

He was as shocked by this revelation as James appeared to be by the truth about their marriage. He’d never thought that he’d fall for someone like Ginny Weasley. She was unrefined and unsophisticated. In school she’d been just an insignificant Gryffindor who fawned on Harry Potter, and during the war she’d been just another Order member who hated him. She didn’t understand anything about his world . . . but she understood everything about him. She’d stuck by his side through all of his insults and his insecurities and through revelations about his less-than-savory past, and somehow, through her loyalty and her forgiveness and her unfailing kindness, she’d made a place for herself in his heart.

James smiled sincerely. “I’m glad for you. Of course,” he added wryly, “I was glad for you when you got married. But now that I know you’re actually in love with your wife, I’m even more glad for you.” He paused. “Life’s better when someone’s there with you, I think,” he added, and from his faraway look Draco knew he was thinking about Elise.

“I think you’re right,” Draco said. “I’d never thought I’d want to settle down and dedicate my life to one person and be a family man, but now . . .” He gave his friend a lopsided smile. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, James.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“I’ve just now realized it myself.”

“Then what on earth are you doing here?” James demanded in good-natured exasperation. “Go home to your wife. Tell her you love her.”

“All right,” Draco smiled. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“That’s what friends are for. Now go.”

Draco had always thought that the trouble with Apparation was that it got you places too quickly. Sometimes, walking was better because it gave you time to clear your head and think. So instead of Apparating straight home he went to the front gate and then meandered slowly up to the front door, trying to put his thoughts into order.

He wasn’t worried about what he was going to do. That had been perfectly clear from the moment Severus had told him about the deed: the moment he saw Ginny, he was going to kiss her. No, what he was worrying about was how she was going to react, especially since he wasn’t sure if Severus had gotten around to telling her about Draco’s taking over the Manor. Maybe, now that she didn’t have to stay, she’d want to leave. But he couldn’t believe that, and not just because he didn’t want to believe that. Things had been going so well. They were happy; she’d said that herself. And maybe she wasn’t in love with him, but she liked him; of that he was sure. And given that to work with, Draco felt that he could make her love him like he loved her. At the very least he had to try.

It really astounded him when he looked back on how he had changed. Once upon a time Ginny had insisted to him that marriage was something special, and he had said it was a joke. Then they’d married and Ginny had given up on convincing him that marriage was important, but now he decided that on his own. She would find that amusing. He smiled and quickened his step.

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked as he threw open the door.

Bernard was sitting on the stairs, which was very unusual for him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Master Draco,” he said.

“I’m touched,” Draco replied, amused. “Have you seen Ginny?”

“That’s why I’ve been waiting for you,” Bernard said. The house elf almost looked afraid, which was something Draco had never seen before. It seemed ominous, and he felt a sudden fear wash over him.

“Why? Did something happen? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine, sir,” Bernard said hesitantly. “It’s- she left.”

“Left?” Draco said, confused. “Left where?”

The house elf sighed. “Back to her parents, I presume.”

It was strange, some detached part of Draco reflected, that the room could be so still when he felt everything crumbling around him. He took refuge in that part of himself, and with the same detached interest walked calmly up the stairs to Ginny’s room.

It was empty, entirely devoid of any hint of the girl who’d slept there. Except- yes, there it was. Her ring was on the dresser. The sight of the glittering diamonds broke whatever spell he was under and brought him reeling back down to reality. She was gone. She was really gone. He turned around and around, staring at the bare dressers and shelves, and wondered how this could have happened. They’d been happy, hadn’t they? They’d been getting along, hadn’t they?

But then he remembered waking up earlier that afternoon to find his bed empty. How could he have not noticed that she was so eager to get away from him? He shook his head. How could he have not noticed that things had gotten so bad that she didn’t even stick around long enough to tell him goodbye?

Then he’d forget her, he decided. He’d been fine before she came to Malfoy Manor and he’d be fine with her gone. He found this anger very comforting and pulled it up around himself like a shield, then stalked toward his room.

His anger lasted until he reached his bed. Then he collapsed onto the sheets, and for the second time that day, Draco Malfoy cried.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of me door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul.
- Elizabeth Barret Browning

. . . . . .

The first thing that Ginny saw when she awoke was a framed picture of a two-toed Tafettigos. Her first impression had been that it was a very lifelike painting, but she’d spent a great deal of the last two days in the room with the thing, and she was beginning to get an uneasy feeling that the very lifelike painting was actually a very real photograph. When she awoke on the third morning, looked at the Tafettigos, and found herself wondering just how Luna had managed to catch the thing on camera, she knew that it was time to get out of the apartment.

She’d been staying with Luna since she’d left Draco. While she’d been packing she’d intended to go to her parents, and indeed had Apparated to just outside the Burrow, but then as she’d stood there looking at the warmly lit windows of her childhood home she’d realized that she simply didn’t have it in her to walk in and tell her parents that she’d left her husband. It wasn’t that they would hold it against her that she’d walked out on Draco; what she feared is that her mother would inevitably want to have a heart-to-heart with her daughter, “just between us girls,” about what had happened, and Ginny knew that when Molly came to have this talk, sitting on the edge of her bed and smoothing down Ginny’s hair as she’d done when Ginny was young, then the floodgates would open and Ginny would pour out the whole story, beginning with the oath and ending with Draco’s celebratory drinks at the Leaky Cauldron.

And then, Ginny feared, her mother would be disappointed in her. Truth be known, she was a little disappointed in herself. When she’d agreed to marry Draco, the oath and their agreement hadn’t seemed that strange. Now that she could step back and examine the last few months, however, she could see what a bizarre situation it was that she’d gotten in, and she wasn’t sure her mother would approve. Oh, she’d be forgiving, of course, as would Arthur, but she was afraid they’d think that she was lacking in good sense, that she’d made a big mistake. And while she knew that she had to tell them eventually, she couldn’t face it so soon after leaving Draco. So after lingering a few moments outside the Burrow, she’d Apparated to Luna’s apartment.

Luna had taken her in immediately, not asking any questions until Ginny was settled in the guest bedroom of her spacious apartment near Hyde Park. Then she’d appeared in the doorway with a cup of Ginny’s favorite tea. The two friends had situated themselves on the bed, and only when she saw that Ginny was comfortable and calm did she speak. “So, what happened?”

Ginny had told her the truth- that she’d left her husband- but omitted the details. Luna had taken it easily and calmly, asking only one question: “Is it irreperable? I mean, I see Draco often in working for The Quibbler. Is there anything I can say to him for you?”

“Don’t say a word,” Ginny had begged. “Don’t even tell him I’m here with you. Please?”

Luna had agreed and that had been the end of their conversation.

The next two days had passed in quiet solitude for Ginny. Each morning she woke up too late to see Luna before she went to the newspaper office. She’d already written to Glennis about not coming into work, so she spent the day slouching around Luna’s apartment, dressed in her pajamas and wrapped in a quilt, alternately crying on the bed or staring out the window at the spacious Muggle synagogue down the street. Plenty of people passed by beneath the window, but until Luna came home in the evenings, Ginny had no human contact at all.

This surprised her a little. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, and she’d told Luna to keep her whereabouts secret from even the Weasleys- at least, until she was feeling up to facing them- but still, somehow she’d expected that people would find out she was there and would come to comfort her and tell her that she did not need a man to complete her. But apparently Luna had taken the instructions to heart, and Ginny spent her days entirely alone.

She liked being alone, because she didn’t have to hide her emotions, but she disliked it because it gave her too much time with her thoughts. But the thoughts came, no matter how she fought it, so she very carefully thought about her family and her friends and her work and anything that wasn’t connected to Draco. Most of the time it worked.

It was on the morning of the third day at Luna’s that Ginny decided it was time to change out of her pajamas and get out into the world. She awoke early and looked at the clock: it was nearly nine. She knew that as it was Saturday, Luna wouldn’t be rising until later, so she allowed herself a few moments to lounge in the very comfortable bed. As she lay there, inert, her thoughts began wandering and before she could stop them they were back where they’d been trying to get for days: Draco. Where was he? What was he doing right then? Did he miss her? What had he thought to come home and find her gone? Was he glad to be rid of her? Or did he sometimes wander into her room at night, think of the girl who used to live there, and smile fondly?

She missed him so terribly that there was a dull ache in her chest, all the time. More than once, she’d drawn her wand, ready to Apparate to the Manor and beg him to let her come home, but then fear had stopped her. After all, if he’d really wanted her back, he would have found her, right? It couldn’t be that hard to locate her; if he was going down a list of her friends, Luna would be near the top. So clearly he wasn’t trying to find her.

She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. Who’d have guessed that love would be such a terrible thing? She’d never really been in love before, and she’d always expected that when it happened, it would be . . . different than this. She’d thought things would be easier. Instead things had been difficult and painful and she had nothing to show for it, not love, not Draco, not even the fifty thousand Galleons she’d been so sure she wanted at the beginning of the marriage. She’d remembered suddenly on Thursday that parts of the oath she’d forced Draco to make were unfulfilled- most notably, that he was supposed to pay her fifty thousand Galleons at the end of their marriage. He would start feeling ill soon if he didn’t pay her, so she’d pulled out her wand and revoked the entire oath, hoping all the while that Draco would forget. His paying her for performing her role in their marriage would cheapen everything they had together.

She heard Luna stirring in the other room, so she forced herself out of bed and changed into real clothes, unable to resist the urge to choose a shirt that Draco had once told her he liked. After checking her appearance in the mirror, she went out into the kitchen.

Luna didn’t look surprised to see her up and dressed. With a wave of her wand she conjured a plate for Ginny, bangers and mash and a Welsh rarebit- Ginny had long since gotten used to Luna’s bizarre breakfasts- and motioned for her to sit down. “You missed a lot the last few days,” her friend said. “German Aurors foiled a plot to kidnap their minister of foreign relations and replace him with a shape-shifting pigeon.”

“You don’t say,” Ginny responded, poking half-heartedly at her potatoes. She hadn’t felt much like eating in the last few days.

Luna prattled on for a few more minutes while Ginny nodded politely. Then a silence fell in which Ginny, finished with what little food she was going to eat, stood. “Wait a moment,” Luna requested. “Please, sit.” Ginny sat, fairly sure she knew what was coming.

And it was. “How are you feeling?” Luna asked, looking at her with those big, earnest eyes. “The truth, if you please.”

She didn’t want to tell her the truth, because that meant examining that part of her that had hidden, wounded, deep in her heart for the last few days. But this was Luna, so she answered honestly, if somewhat hesitantly. “It hurts,” she said softly. “Sometimes I think about the rest of my life without him in it and I don’t even want to try to live it.”

“Then why did you leave?” Luna said, matter-of-fact but not unkind.

Ginny covered her face her with her hands. “He doesn’t love me,” she said, her voice muffled. “I thought- but now I know.” Oh, Merlin, she was going to cry again.

“He told you this?”

Behind her hands, Ginny winced. “No. But I could see it in his actions.”

“Is it possible you misread him?”

“I think I know my own husband,” Ginny said firmly, hoping Luna would end her questioning.

But she was persistent. “But it’s possible.”

Ginny rested her forehead on her hand. “I don’t know.”

Luna reached across the table and patted Ginny’s free hand. “Maybe you should talk to him,” she said kindly. “Good communication bridges gaps between people and reminds us all that we’re not alone in this world.”

Ginny looked up at her friend. “Luna, that was beautiful.”

Luna smiled. “Thanks. We’re considering it as the new slogan forT he Quibbler.”

Ginny was just standing again when a knock came at the door. She froze and felt her heart pounding in her ears. Let it be Draco, she begged silently. Let it be Draco looking for me. With a wave of her wand Luna cleared the breakfast dishes and opened the door, seemingly unaware of Ginny’s discomfort.

It was not Draco on the other side. “Hermione!” Luna greeted, moving aside so her guest could come in. “Good to see you!”

The two friends came into the living room, laughing and talking. Despite Hermione’s low opinion of Luna’s newspaper work, the two girls had become great friends during their work in the Order. “I just wanted to stop by and get your opinion on flowers for the wedding. Do you have any Floo powder? I was thinking of asking Ginny to come by.”

“No need for that, Herm,” Ginny said, coming out of the kitchen.

“Ginny!” Hermione said in delight, though her smile faltered as she saw Ginny’s forlorn expression. “What are you doing here?”

Ginny took a seat in the living room and the other two women followed suit. “Well,” Ginny said stoicly, figuring that it had to come out sooner or later, “I left Draco.”

She’d known that Hermione would be surprised, but she hadn’t expected her to gasp, her hands over her mouth. “No! Really, Ginny?” When Ginny nodded to say that yes, it was true, Hermione leaned back in her chair, frowning. “You were always a strange couple, but I really thought you two would make it. You seemed so happy together.”

Every word was like a punch in the gut to Ginny. She wanted nothing more than to cry, to pour out the whole story to Hermione and Luna, oath and all. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she simply smiled sadly. “I think this is for the best,” she lied. “Don’t worry about me, Herm. I’ll be all right.”

And she didn’t cry, not at any point in the short visit. Hermione left quickly after hearing Ginny’s news; Ginny was sure she had tactfully decided that wedding flowers oughtn’t be discussed with a woman whose marriage was falling apart.

Her early departure was a blessing to Ginny, who didn’t want to talk about leaving Draco anymore. She supposed it couldn’t be avoided, though, as she’d reluctantly given Hermione permission to tell the Weasleys what had happened, and she was sure they would descend on her soon. With that in mind, she decided to get out of the apartment and stretch her legs; it’d be harder for her family to find her.

So after telling Luna goodbye, Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley. She wanted to stop by work later, but she also wanted a few moments to herself, and there was no better place for anonymity than crowded Diagon Alley on a Saturday. She strolled past shop windows, losing herself in the sounds of the crowd. It was very soothing to get out of her head for a while, and she was just beginning to think that she might stay there all day when she heard her name being called.

It was Ron, standing on the other side of the street, the expression on his face strange and unreadable. She was sure that he knew, however- he was the first one that Hermione would have told- and she braced herself for an onslaught of “I told you so” and “You can’t trust a Malfoy.”

Instead, to her great surprise, he silently crossed the street, pushing his way through the thronging crowd, and drew his baby sister into a hug. Shocked but not so surprised that she’d miss the rare chance to be comforted by her brother, she hugged him back. “I’m so sorry, Gin,” he said, and on hearing him use her childhood nickname, one that Draco had also recently taken to using, she nearly began to cry.

She managed to fight back her tears and simply responded, “Thank you.”

Her brother pulled away and looked at her. “How are you doing?” he asked earnestly.

She shrugged. “I’m going to be okay, Ron.”

“All right, but how are you now?” he asked, at which Ginny had to smile. Despite being an insensitive jerk on occasion, Ron had always been able to understand Ginny better than most others could.

“It’s hard,” she admitted. “It hurts. But I’m stronger than this.”

“I know you are. But-” He paused. “I really wanted to hurt Draco when I heard you two were married, but I came to terms with it. But if he broke your heart, I really will kill him.”

“Don’t kill him,” Ginny said, unable to hide a smile. “Hermione needs you, and besides, I don’t think you’d like Azkaban.” Ron laughed and hugged her again.

The siblings talked for a few more minutes, standing there together on the sidewalk as the crowd rushed past them. Then, after giving Ginny strict instructions that if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, she was to come to him, Ron left.

Ginny was still smiling from Ron’s unexpected reaction when she reached St. Mungo’s. After missing two days of work, she wanted a chance to check her office and see if she’d received any important mail, and Saturday was the perfect day because Glennis wouldn’t be there to pester her with questions about Draco, questions that would undoubtedly lead to pain on Ginny’s part. She wanted a little more time before she had to face her boss.

She walked up the stairs to her floor, grateful that she didn’t meet anyone in the stairwell. She had nearly made it all the way to her office without seeing anyone who wanted to talk to her when she heard her name being called behind her. “Mrs. Malfoy!” came a young female voice, and she winced involuntarily.

“Yes?” she said, turning to find the speaker.

It was Eliza, one of the trainees she’d worked with on that fateful Wednesday before everything had gone wrong. The girl was smiling brightly and Ginny suddenly felt very, very old. “What can I do for you, Eliza?”

“I was just wondering where you’d been. Glennis said she was going to have you work with us on Thursday and Friday, but you weren’t at work. Have you been sick?”

Ginny smiled sadly. “Just some family trouble.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the girl cried. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just glad to see you’re back and feeling well.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replied wearily. “I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”

“All right,” Eliza said, then suddenly seized Ginny’s hand. “And I hope everything works out for you,” she said earnestly, and then left.

Ginny bit her lip as she watched the girl hurry away, wondering how a near stranger’s kindness could nearly reduce her to tears. But she regained her composure and went into her office.

There was, as she’d expected, a pile of letters there, and she leaned against the desk and began to go through them. It was the expected assortment of medical journals and letters from wizards claiming to have invented a new spell to cure the common cold, plus, among the mail that had arrived on Friday, one plain white envelope bearing her name in flowing script. That handwriting looked very familiar, and her heart began to pound as she set the other letters aside and carefully opened the envelope.

It was a check for fifty thousand galleons, signed by Draco Malfoy. Ginny set the check carefully down on her desk, and then she fell to her knees and cried.

. . . . .

Malfoy Manor had been Draco’s home all of his life- except for the time he’d spent in the Order- and he loved it. He loved the rolling hills in the park, the grand ballroom, the musty library, the elegant dining and sitting rooms, and the long, high-ceilinged corridors. He’d never understood those people who thought that a house of that size was a waste. It was not a waste, in his opinion. It was just how the Malfoy home should be.

But suddenly, everything had changed. The park, once prized by its owners as a status of their wealth and everything they had attained in life, suddenly seemed flat and colorless. The house, which had once seemed gracefully laid out and elegantly decorated, suddenly felt awkward and and bulky. And most of all, Malfoy Manor suddenly felt much too large and very empty. And Draco knew why, knew it every time he heard his footsteps echo down a long bare hallway or passed the door to the nursery.

It had been five days since Ginny had left, though it seemed much, much longer. Draco tried to pass the time by doing anything but think of her. He treated himself to dinner and went out for drinks. He read books and newspapers and magazines and anything else he could find. He did inventory checks around the Manor and rearranged furniture and even offered to help the house elves paint a shed out back, an offer which horrified them.

But most of all he worked, because his job was the only constant in his life. He found it a great comfort every day to leave Malfoy Manor, which had to gall to still smell like Ginny, and go to his impersonal office. It was the one thing that kept the grief at bay. His boss and coworkers remarked that he seemed to be very dedicated to his work of late- he showed up early, left late, and filled every moment of his day with some task, no matter how menial. Draco would simply smile at them when they said this, and then after they’d left his office, he’d allow himself a brief moment to lean his head in his hands and sigh. And then he’d get back to work.

He no longer left the office for lunch, as he had occasionally done beforehand, because to walk out of the Ministry offices brought one very near St. Mungo’s. So he ate in the break room, usually with Seamus Finnigan, who chattered on and on, usually about nothing that Draco wanted to discuss: wasn’t Calliope wonderful, and he was so happy that he’d found her, and how were things with Ginny, by the way? Draco gave short, noncommittal answers and carefully told himself, when he was about to hex Seamus, that the Irishman didn’t mean to be insensitive. He simply didn’t know that Ginny had walked out of Draco’s life and broken his heart.

In fact, no one knew, as far as he was aware, unless they had been told by Ginny. He hadn’t yet been able to discuss it with anyone. If James had been around, Draco might have talked to him, but he and Elise had left to visit family in Belfast Thursday morning, and Draco didn’t think to try to Floo him until Thursday afternoon. Beyond that, there was no one he felt comfortable talking to about Ginny. To avoid any questioning, he’d even told the house elves to tell callers that Ginny was simply out of the house. His lie would be found out eventually, he knew, but it bought him a little time to come to terms with it himself.

Of course that hadn’t happened yet. He was still in a state of shock over her leaving. He’d thought that at least he would get a chance to talk to her, but apparently she’d been too eager to get away. That thought still hurt. In those moments when his efforts to keep busy would fail and he’d suddenly find himself thinking of her, of her laugh and the way her red hair had spread out over the pillow when she’d slept next to him, his fond memories would be quickly interrupted by that persistent, nagging voice in his head that said that she was glad to be rid of him. And then his sorrow would snap him out of the trance he’d been in and he’d continue whatever he’d been doing.

Who’d have ever thought that he would fall for Ginny? Before they were married, they’d fought over some insignificant thing every time they met. And she was poor and she acted and dressed to match her status in life, and she was bossy and so perfect all the time . . . but even so, he knew that if she’d just give him the tiniest sign, he’d beg her to come back home, shabby robes and all. He didn’t care if she wore shabby robes for the rest of her life, as long as she spent that time with him. And they could live at the Manor and raise the seven children she’d always wanted and grow old together- but he had to stop thinking like that. She didn’t want him and he was better off accepting that sooner than later.

He didn’t see Ginny at all after she left, even when, in an act of sudden desperation on Thursday night, he Apparated to the field across the lane from the Burrow and stared at the house for a long time, wanting to knock but unable to do so. The lights were all off, and he wondered if they were asleep or if they were out for the evening. Either way, knocking seemed useless, so he simply stood and watched. If any of the Weasleys had come by, he would have asked them how Ginny was. But no one came, and after a long time he went home.

The only contact he had with his wife was to send her a check for the fifty thousand galleons he’d promised her after their divorce. Since technically they weren’t divorced yet, the oath hadn’t kicked in and forced him to, but he remembered that promise suddenly on Friday morning, and he wanted to give the money to Ginny. She’d really seemed to think it was important back when he’d made the oath, and if it made her happy then he wanted to give it to her. He didn’t even flinch at the price, high though it was. He would have given anything in the whole world to his sweet wife if she’d asked for it, even if “wife” was a title she no longer wanted to bear- at least, if he was the husband.

Monday was particularly bad, for some reason. Draco came wearily home from a long day at work and instinctively began to call Ginny’s name. Midway through he stopped, embarrassed, and looked around to see if any of the elves had heard. None were around, so he sighed and took his robes off and flopped down on a sofa in the den. He was so caught up in his own thoughts and remorse that he didn’t notice that anyone was knocking on the door until Bernard was answering it. Draco had a moment’s wild thought that it was Ginny coming home until Bernard said, “Ah, yes, sir. Won’t you come in?”

But from the sound of the creaking door and swift footsteps, whoever was at the front door had simply brushed past the elf and was headed straight for the den. “Draco Malfoy!” a voice boomed, and Draco didn’t have to turn to know that was Severus Snape standing in the doorway. “What have you done?”

“I don’t know. What have I done?” Draco repeated, falling immediately back into his usual defense mechanism: sarcasm and wit. “Please tell me.”

“All right,” Severus said, too annoyed to even respond to Draco’s baiting. “I’ll tell you what you did. Where is Mrs. Malfoy?”

Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t good enough for her. Tea?”

“She said that?”

“Of course not,” Draco replied flippantly. “She’s much kinder than people like you or me.”

Severus swept into the room and around the sofa until he could stare Draco in the face. “Draco,” he hissed, venom in his voice, “give me a straight answer or I will hex you. Why did Ginny leave you, and why did I have to hear it from Remus Lupin?”

“You know my answer to the first question,” Draco said, still hiding behind his facade of indifference, “and in answer to the second, I suppose Lupin’s just a bit of a gossip. Honestly, I wonder what my cousin sees in him.”

Severus’s lips had gone white, and Draco knew that the man was angry in a way that he hadn’t seen since Harry Potter had been in potions classes at Hogwarts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco found he couldn’t muster the energy to be breezy any longer, so he simply stared at Severus, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t really want to talk about it,” he bit off, and Severus stepped back, apparently realizing he’d pushed too hard. If Ginny had been there, Draco mused, she’d have apologized. But Severus just stared at him.

“When?” he asked.

Draco shrugged, suddenly unable to look Severus in the face. “Wednesday. When I got back from seeing James, she was gone.”

Severus looked as though Draco had just confirmed his worst fears. “Do you think it’s because I gave you Malfoy Manor?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that had something to do with it,” Draco said pertly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“It wasn’t meant to happen like-” Severus cut off and brought one hand to his forehead, a rare gesture that communicated how truly upset he was. “Foolish.”

“Yes, well, when you’re young and not in love, you do stupid things.”

“Then who? And what do you mean, ‘It wasn’t meant to happen like this’?” Draco looked up at Severus in growing dismay. “Don’t tell me you had some ulterior motive.”

“I-” And then Severus trailed off.

“You what?” Draco demanded, rising from the sofa to look Severus in the face. His old teacher looked intimidated, and for good reason; he might have been the better wizard, but Draco was far superior physically.

“I- I thought it was time you settled down, and you’d been so happy with Ginny. I thought that if I made it so she didn’t have to stay, you’d realize you wanted her around.”

“You what?” Draco repeated. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists. “Well, did you ever think about whether she’d want to stay?” Laughing in disbelief, he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe if we’d had more time together, I could have . . .” He bit his lower lip. “But no. Now we have no time together. You ruined that.”

“Draco, I didn’t intend-”

“Get out of my house.” He spoke so softly that Severus leaned forward to hear.

“What?”

“Get out of my house!” Draco shouted, and this time he was sure Severus caught every word.

The potions master backed away a step. “I never meant for this to happen,” he said quietly. Draco turned his iciest glare on him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Severus pulled out his wand and Apparated.

Draco collapsed back onto the sofa, his head spinning. That Ginny had left was difficult enough to deal with, but to know that it was because of Severus’s meddling made it worse, somehow.

All the grief that he’d been trying to hold at bay the last few days returned full force and overwhelmed him. He could almost see Ginny sitting in that tall armchair by the fire, as she had been that first night of their marriage. She’d been smiling, amused at her own humor, laughing as she caught the pillow he’d thrown at her. “Someday, darling, you’ll realize I’m never done,” she’d said. He dropped his head into his hands.

And then, after a moment, he stood. He couldn’t stay here in this house, not when every sight and every sound brought back some memory of her. He pulled out his wand and Apparated to Diagon Alley without a second thought.

He wandered aimlessly up and down the streets for nearly an hour, letting the act of walking clear all thoughts from his mind. He didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until his stomach grumbled and he realized that he was famished.

He looked up, and there across the street, as though fate had intended for him to go there, was the diner that he and Ginny had eaten at on the first day of their marriage. He stared at it, thinking of the way his father had refused to let him eat there as a child because the cook was a Muggle, and then he stumbled across the street and went inside. He half expected to see Ginny sitting at the same table they’d sat at that day, but it was empty.

“I want a table,” he told the hostess at the front door. “Actually, I want that table.” He pointed to where he and Ginny had sat.

Some time later, he was seated in the same chair that he’d sat in that day three months earlier, poking listlessly at his meal. Despite having been hungry earlier, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was just beginning to wonder if he should ask for the check when his waiter suddenly appeared beside him.

“Sir, the two young ladies at the corner table would like you to join them.”

“What is this, a bar?” Draco demanded. “What kind of place are you running here?”

“No, sir,” the waiter said apologetically. “They said they’re your sisters-in-law.”

Draco turned quickly and saw, in the far corner, Hermione and Hannah looking back at him intently. With a sigh, he slid out of his chair and stalked over to them, glowering all the while. They looked slightly taken aback at angry expression. He turned to Hermione.

“You’re not my sister-in-law yet,” he said stubbornly.

That broke the tension and Hannah, laughing, scooted over on the bench. “Sit down,” she said, and he acquiesced only because he liked Hannah.

“Let me guess what this is about,” he said drily.

“Draco, what happened?” Hannah asked earnestly. “I saw you two at the party. You seemed so happy together.” Draco shrugged uncomfortably.

“Did you two fight?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.

Draco jerked back away from her out of habit. “You do realize, of course, that she’s the one who left me,” he said defensively. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Hannah sighed. “We’ve tried. All she’ll say is ‘It’s for the best.’”

Draco winced. He’d rather have heard that Ginny was unhappy away from him- not that he wanted her to ever be unhappy, of course, but he wanted her to want to come back to him.

Hermione saw this. “Draco,” she said softly, “what happened?”

He looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re too different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated loudly, annoyed. “She’s good, I’m evil. How about that?”

“You’re not evil, Draco,” Hannah said gently, and Draco wondered if she knew anything about Death Eaters or Lucius Malfoy.

As if reading his mind, Hermione said, “I know you, Draco, and you’re not.”

“Sure I am,” Draco responded. “Maybe Ginny finally realized that I’m the heartless beast everyone says I am.”

“When have you ever been heartless?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, always,” he said brassily. “Why on earth are you defending me, Hermione? I was awful enough to you in school.”

“You were young. But look what you’ve done since then. You joined the Order-”

“To spite my father. I hated him even more than I hated Harry Potter.”

“But did you ever believe in Voldemort’s ideas?” Hannah asked, and Draco decided it was clear she was a Muggle from the fact that she used the Dark Lord’s name so innocently. Even Hermione winced when she said it.

He couldn’t be flippant when Hannah looked so earnest, so he shrugged. “I thought about joining him, once. And even if I wasn’t a Death Eater, I kept busy hexing Ron and Harry and making you cry.” He looked at Hermione.

She shook her head. “You aren’t a bad person, Draco. You never were.” He was about to object when she spoke up. “Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup when we were fourteen?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. He should have known she’d remember something like that.

“Out in the forest, when the Death Eaters attacked those Muggles,” she continued, “we saw you, and you told me to- to ‘keep my bushy head down,’ I believe, were your exact words. I thought you were being rude then, but later I realized that you were warning me that the Death Eaters would come after people like me.”

Draco shrugged. “So I didn’t want you killed. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“That means everything, Draco!” Hannah said plaintively.

Hermione nodded wisely. “It means that underneath your layers of bad upbringing and the defenses that you built up- and that you probably really needed after all you’ve been through- you have a good heart, Draco.”

“And yet Ginny walked out on me,” Draco said. “So what good does having a good heart do me?”

“Oh, Draco,” Hannah murmured. “Do you really miss her?”

He realized he’d slipped. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded, looking back and forth between the two women.

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “You two deserve happiness.”

“Because she doesn’t . . . feel the same way about me. Did she even seem upset when you talked to her?”

The two women looked at each other and Draco knew he’d been right. “See? And I’d like to escape from this with some dignity.”

“Draco-” Hermione began, sounding annoyed.

Hannah cut her off. “We won’t even tell her we saw you,” she promised. “But Draco, you should see her. You two need to talk before you throw away everything that you have together.”

Hermione looked at her in surprise, but Draco seized the opportunity. “Thank you, Hannah. I’d better go. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, both of you.”

They both smiled sadly at him as he walked back to his table to get his check. They were right; he did need to see Ginny, even if it was just to give her the divorce papers she was probably anxious to get her hands on. I’ll go . . . later, he told himself wearily, and Apparated home.

Moments after he arrived home, there came a knocking on the door. Too tired to get up his hopes once again that it was Ginny, he opened the door. It was Wilde, his colleague from the Department of International Cooperation, looking harried but relieved to see Draco. “Good, you're home,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for twenty minutes.”

“Why?” Draco asked warily.

Wilde smiled grimly. “L’Aube Foncée,” he explained. “They’ve attacked the French Ministry’s headquarters. France is asking for all the help they can get, and Dippet wants us all to go. Make sure you have your wand.” He paused. “Do you want to tell your wife goodbye?”

Draco shook his head. “No. She . . . no.” He didn't want to elaborate, and Wilde seemed to know not to press the subject. The two men drew their wands, and with a crack, they both disappeared.

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Indeed, this is the way fate usually treats us, it’s right there behind us, it has already reached out a hand to touch us on the shoulder while we’re still muttering to ourselves, it’s all over, that’s it, who cares anyhow. - Jose Saramago

. . . . . .

“We’re taking broomsticks,” Wilde said as he and Draco hurried down the docks to a squat building by the water’s edge.

“Broomsticks?” Draco asked, surprised. It was not uncommon for witches and wizards, especially the young, to use broomsticks to get around, and until the last century it had been the preferred form of transportation for traveling over the Channel. In recent years, however, using broomsticks to cross to France had become very dangerous; the running water made it impossible to enchant the rider to become invisible, so the crossing had to be attempted at night, and even then there was still a great deal of danger posed by modern Muggle technology, which had become so advanced that Muggles on both sides of the Channel could easily spot a wizard in the sky. And that, of course, led to questions, suspicions, and memory-altering charms. The only time the Ministry would authorize a crossing by broomstick was if the wizard in question needed to cross very, very quickly for a very, very important reason.

“Yeah, broomsticks,” Wilde said dourly, clearly not excited at the prospect of spending any time on such a conveyance. “Dippet wants us there fast.” And he slipped around the edge of the building they’d approached, opened the broom shed on the far side, and began rummaging through the rows of Ministry-furnished broomsticks, provided for just such an occasion.

“Great,” Draco said, hiding his uneasiness, and began looking for a broom for himself. As he looked he interrogated Wilde about what had happened, but his co-worker knew little besides the fact that a few hours after the workday had ended, several members of the French ministry, disheveled and out of breath, had burst into the English Ministry of Magic and terrified the janitors still at work. They’d found the Minister of Magic and asked for his help, and since then anyone who could be spared had been crossing the Channel. Apparently the Aurors had been the first to go, and Draco wondered if Ginny knew that Harry was on the other side of the sea, possibly in mortal peril. He wondered if she knew that he was going as well, and whether her estranged husband’s plight even mattered to her. He wished he could contact her somehow, but there was no time and soon he and Wilde were kicking off the dock and taking off into the dusky sky, part of a long line of fellow wizards making their way to France.

When they landed on French soil they Apparated immediately to Paris, even though the Bâtiment d'Administration, as it was called, was not located in that city. They went to an office in the heart of town, one that Draco recognized from his time in Paris as the office of the leader of the city’s wizard population. It was not that kindly old man that he saw when he opened the door, however, but the French Ministry’s stern-faced president, Bernard de Flesselles, along with Nigel Dippet and Louis d’Armand, with whom the Malfoys had sat at the ball.

Dippet looked very relieved to see the two men, who of all the department were some of the employees most familiar with the French language, government and culture. Dippet himself had dealt almost exclusively with Germany during his time in the department, and until the events of the last few months had occurred he had not been concerned with familiarizing himself with France.

“Malfoy, Wilde, I’m glad you’re here,” he said briskly. “I suppose you know what happened?”

Wilde and Draco looked at each other. “No, sir-” Draco began, but Dippet, fiddling nervously with his wand, pressed on.

“Wilde, you’ll go to the school, and Draco, you’re going to Ministry headquarters. When you get there, ask for Lepain-” he looked at Wilde- “and Malfoy, you’re looking for Jean d’Auber.”

“Wait,” Draco said. “They’ve attacked in two different places?”

“I am afraid so,” M. de Flesselles said, rising from his chair. He looked a little ashamed, and Draco thought that he certainly ought to be; he’d been warned about the threat and had not acted on those warnings. “Half of the group attacked the Bâtiment d'Administration and the other half attacked the Palace of Beauxbatons. We have not had any casualties yet, but we worry that it is only a matter of time.”

“That’s why I need you two here,” Dippet said, looking hard at his employees. “I need you to act as liaisons between their people and ours.” He paused a moment and pursed his lips. “We want this over quickly,” he said, which Draco thought was rather unnecessary.

But he simply nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, and Apparated.

The Bâtiment d'Administration was a rather magnificent building in a secluded area southeast of Paris. Unlike the British, who had decided to center their government in the Muggle capital, the French had decided, for ease and safety, to put their government buildings away from prying eyes and keep everyone, Muggle or wizard, from living too close. This, Draco concluded as he appeared on the outskirts of the compound, was very convenient as it meant that no civilians would be caught up in the fighting.

Fighting, however, seemed to be in short supply at that moment. Everything was quiet, and if not for the wizards all gathered a safe distance from the building, Draco might have thought that it was a false alarm. But then, as he watched, a bolt of green light suddenly shot from one of the upper windows- like a sort of test to see if they were still out there, Draco thought- and ricocheted off a defensive spell surrounding the gathered wizards.

So there was someone in there after all, he pondered, and with that thought in mind he called out to the wizards near him, deciding it was best to identify himself before wandering into their ranks.

“Draco!” replied one of the wizards, and Draco was surprised to see Seamus, who worked for the Irish ambassador and hence for the Irish Ministry and therefore had no need to respond to Dippet’s call to arms. If he knew Seamus, though, he would bet that he’d volunteered for the job.

“Seamus,” he replied, approaching. “What’s going on? And where’s d’Auber?”

“He’s over here,” Seamus replied, leading the way through the throngs of wizards. Draco noted with interest that the majority were English, and he wished again that President de Flesselles were not so adamant in insisting that it was not necessary for France to hire more Aurors. That was why they’d needed the English so badly; they simply didn’t have the manpower to fight this battle. “As for what’s going on, L’Aube Foncée managed to get an inside man in here, and they let the rest of the group in. They attacked in the late afternoon, so luckily most people were gone, but those people who had stayed late are now being held hostage.”

“Do we know what they intend to do now that they’re inside?”

“Well, this building and Beauxbatons have impressive defensive spells, and from what we can tell they’re changing those right now to work in their favor. We suppose they mean to use these buildings as headquarters for a larger attack.”

“So you were right all along,” came a new voice, and Draco saw M. d’Auber coming toward them in the fading light. “We should have been worried about these dark wizards of yours.”

Draco shrugged. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t come out with a distinct “I told you so” tinge to it, so he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m glad you’re here, M. Malfoy,” d’Auber said. “Come with me.”

Nodding his goodbye to Seamus, Draco followed the Frenchman to a small area that seemed to have been designated headquarters. All around them were Aurors, French and English, who were concentrating on keeping the defensive spells up. In the headquarters area, a few men were poring over maps of the surrounding land, and a few more were examining the structure of the spells on the building. “The Bâtiment d'Administration has highly advanced defensive spells on it,” d’Auber explained. “But now, instead of keeping invaders out, they’re keeping us out, and they’re nearly impossible to take apart without the recoil killing anyone near the spell. We’re waiting for blueprints of the building to arrive from Paris, so we can try to find any possible way inside. We expect them to arrive at any time. And until then, we wait.”

And wait they did, as the Aurors and the dark wizards inside exchanged curses, none of them hitting their targets. Draco helped the men look over the blueprints when they arrived, and more than once stepped in just in time to keep men from either side of the Channel from getting into fights fueled by stress and fatigue.

At eleven an Auror appeared and asked if Draco could take a shift assisting with the spell and keeping an eye on the building; the rest of the Aurors were all exhausted from the effort involved in patching the spell every time it was hit. He agreed and spent three hours assisting with the spell’s upkeep and talking to the Frenchmen around him.

At two in the morning someone arrived to take over his spot. Draco stood stupidly for a moment, exhausted from the exertion, and an Auror somewhere behind him suggested he lie down and have a rest. Cots had been brought in from somewhere, and Draco, looking at them, decided that sleep was exactly what he needed.

The cot was uncomfortable and hard, but Draco was out almost immediately. He had time for only one thought of Ginny- let me come home to her, even though she no longer lived with him- before he was asleep.

. . . . . .

Ginny didn’t go into work that day. She thought she wanted to up until the moment before she left- it would be good for her, she told herself, and she had to go back some time- but in that instant when she pulled out her wand, she had a sudden vision of being pestered by Glennis and Corbin about missing so much work, and then she’d have to explain to them what had happened. And she couldn’t do that, because she herself didn’t know. Should she say that she and Draco were separated? Having marital troubles? Or that they were strange bedfellows who never should have wed in the first place? No, it was much better to wait until she’d talked to Draco and figured out their exact status.

And she wanted to do that soon- not because she wanted it to be over, but she wanted to find some closure so that maybe some of the pain would go away- but she hadn’t managed to gather the courage to go back to the Manor. She supposed she’d have to do it in the next few days, and she figured that until then she could skip a day or two more out of work She had enough vacation days to do it, anyway.

So she spent another day at Luna’s and only cried twice all afternoon, of which she was proud. Of course, she still thought of Draco nearly every moment of the day, but still, she felt that some improvement had been made and that perhaps someday she could talk about Draco without suffering emotional duress.

After dinner Luna went to the grocery store and Ginny decided to go with her. She normally wasn’t much of one for grocery shopping, but she felt the need to get out, so she changed into real clothes and did her hair and makeup and followed Luna to the store with a smile on her face.

The shop nearby was tiny, as Ginny had often found Muggle stores to be, but still, knowing Luna, it was no real surprise that somehow she managed to disappear from Ginny’s sight. Amused, Ginny walked gave the store a once-over, just to be sure, and then checked outside. Sure enough, Luna was out there, just saying goodbye to a tall, curly-haired man Ginny recognized as a reporter at The Quibbler.

“Oh, I was just looking for you,” Luna said dreamily when Ginny approached. “Mark had some interesting news.”

“Oh, what was that?” Ginny asked, smiling. When two Quibbler writers got together, the bizarre stories they told had to achieve a new level of strangeness.

“Dark wizards have taken over the French Ministry and Beauxbatons,” came Luna’s very straightforward reply.

“I feel sorry for the French, then,” Ginny laughed. But then her smile faltered as she remembered Draco telling her he feared just such an attack from that group- what was it called?

“Luna, where did Mark hear about that?” she asked, wondering if it could be true, as she followed her friend back into the store.

“It’s something reporters are naturally good at,” Luna said vaguely. “Pasta tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” Ginny said distractedly. “Do you know anything about the group who attacked?”

“Their name is something about the dawn,” Luna shrugged.

“L’Aube Foncée?”

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

“Is that the name of the group?” Ginny demanded.

“That sounds right,” Luna responded. “Apparently the Ministry is worried about it. They’ve called out some of our men. All the Aurors went over, including Harry.”

“Oh, dear,” Ginny said faintly, and was secretly thankful that Draco was not an Auror and wouldn’t be a part of the fighting. “Perhaps I’d better get to work and see if they might need help. You can never had too many medics.”

“Oh, you can have too many medics,” Luna said knowingly, tapping the side of her nose. “Don’t forget the story of the bagpiper and the turnips.”

“Never,” replied Ginny, though her mind was on L’Aube Foncée and Harry and Draco. “I’ll see you later, all right?”

Luna nodded and Ginny Apparated to work. “What’s happened?” she asked as she reached the nurses’ station on her floor.

One of the new girls smiled. “Well, he wasn’t breathing well, so we recommended a week-”

“I meant in France.”

“Oh. Let me ask Parker.”

She paged Parker, who managed the floor in the evenings. He had heard about the attacks in France, he said in response to Ginny’s question, but he assured her that the Ministry had already informed them that the French had the medical side of things under control. “You know they’ve always had such an impressive medical system,” he said. “Far better than ours. And the Ministry decided that they don’t want any more people going over there than they have to.”

Ginny thanked Parker and walked slowly back to the stairwell, wondering what to do next. If Harry was out there fighting, perhaps she should go the Burrow, where she was sure that the Weasleys, his surrogate family, were waiting with bated breath. She had nearly decided to go when a familiar voice called her name, making her jump.

“Calliope,” she said as she saw her friend standing in the lobby. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” the girl explained, looking pale and drawn. “I tried your house and the house elves said you were gone, so I thought you might be here.”

“Well, you’ve found me. What do you need?”

Calliope looked at her in surprise. “I wanted to go with you, to wait for news.”

“To wait?”

“At Dover,” Calliope nodded, and then, seeing Ginny didn’t know what she was talking about, she added, “For Seamus and Draco?”

Ginny gasped. “Are they over there fighting?”

“The whole department got sent over. Didn’t you hear?”

Ginny sidestepped that question. “But Seamus doesn’t even work for our Ministry.”

Her friend shrugged. “He wanted to go. He said it was the right thing to do.” She bit her lip, and Ginny could see how worried she was about her boyfriend. “So are you coming?”

“Of course,” Ginny said before remembering that she had forfeited her right to be Draco Malfoy’s concerned wife. But she didn’t care; her Draco was in trouble- that thought made her catch her breath in fear- and she was going to find out what was going on.

The two women Apparated to a large Ministry building on the wizarding docks at Dover, normally used to regulate wizards crossing the Channel. Tonight, however, it was filled with witches and wizards waiting for their loved ones to return, and if they did not return soon, for news of what was going on in France.

Several harried-looking Ministry officials were standing at the door. “There’s no need to be here,” one of them said resignedly, as though knowing his speech wouldn’t work. “The Ministry will inform families immediately as soon as our wizards return-”

“Thanks, but we’ll wait here,” Ginny said, and grabbed Calliope’s elbow to drag her through the door.

“There’s Hermione,” Calliope said, pointing through the crowd.

Ginny’s future sister-in-law was indeed there, pushing her way through the throng toward them. “Ginny, Calliope,” she said as she reached them, and Ginny saw that she looked tired. “I suppose you heard about Ron and Harry, then?”

“Ron’s out there?” Ginny demanded.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Only about Harry. And . . .” she trailed off, embarrassed, but she knew Hermione would understand. “And Draco.”

Hermione nodded sympathetically. “Well, Ron decided he wanted to help, too, even though I don’t know what he expects they’re going to do with an employee of the Games and Sports department.” She looked at Calliope. “Seamus, too?”

Calliope nodded, and Hermione put her arm around her shoulders and led her into the crowd, Ginny following close behind. In the corner she saw her parents waiting, and they scooted over so Calliope, Hermione and Ginny could sit on the bench next to them. The group spoke no words, only patted each other’s hands comfortably and waited.

For Ginny the wait seemed unbearable. It killed her not to know what was going on, not to know if her brother and her friend and her husband were dead somewhere on the other side of the sea. She was worried about Ron and Harry, of course, but she knew they could take care of themselves. Could Draco? He hadn’t seen much action during the war. She wasn’t sure how he was at fighting.

But he just had to be all right. She didn’t know what she’d do if Draco died. Even if they were no longer together, she couldn’t bear to think of the world without Draco Malfoy in it. Looking at Hermione and Calliope, she wondered if they felt the same about the men they loved. She wanted to ask but she was afraid of upsetting them, so instead she leaned back in the bench and closed her eyes tightly. Please let Ron and Harry and Draco come home soon, she thought, and that became her mantra. She repeated it over and over again until finally, exhausted by worry, she drifted off to sleep.

. . . . . .

It was six o’ clock when Draco awoke suddenly. In the dim light of the dawn, he could just make out the figure standing over him, calling his name. “Draco, get up.”

“Potter?” Draco asked, rubbing his eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“A while,” Harry replied, and Draco thought he sounded tired. “Look, they want everyone up on their feet. They think they found a way in.”

Draco was on his feet immediately. “But there was nothing useful on those blueprints.”

Harry shook his head. “They finally found one of the men who originally helped with the defensive spells, and he’s been trying to figure out a way through them for the last few hours. He’s finally found a way to let us in.”

Draco look around. “There’s a lot more people here than there was last night.”

“Beauxbatons has been retaken,” Harry explained. “There were fewer protective spells on it than L’Aube Foncée expected, and we managed to get inside.”

“We? You were there? And then you bothered to come here?” Draco suddenly felt guilty for having spent the night sleeping while Harry had spent it fighting.

Harry shrugged. “Come on, we need to get into position.” And the two men began making their way to near where Draco had been on watch duty. Nearby, a group of Aurors was preparing to remove the defensive spell while a very old man- the one who’d found a way in, Draco supposed- rolled his wand between his fingers, apparently ready to do whatever enchantment would allow the fighters into the Bâtiment d'Administration.

All around them, wizards were donning invisibility cloaks or performing Disillusionment charms on themselves. It made sense, Draco supposed, because if the two spells did not go down at exactly the same time, there would be a moment or two when the wizards sitting outside the Bâtiment d'Administration would be completely exposed. He cast his own Disillusionment charm while Harry pulled his invisibility cloak around himself, and they both sat down to wait.

“You know,” Draco said after a moment, “I always envied that cloak of yours.”

“Really?” Harry’s voice came out of nowhere. “It was always useful. Used it to sneak around Hogwarts more than once.”

“Yeah, I always hated that you always got away with it. If I ever snuck out, I got detention.”

Harry chuckled. “We had some great times at Hogwarts, didn’t we, Malfoy?”

“You’re delusional, aren’t you, Potter?”

Harry just laughed again. “All right, so we wanted to kill each other. But I’m glad I’m here with someone I know, at least,” he said. Draco didn’t reply, and after a moment Harry said, “Ron was at Beauxbatons but he was hurt. They had to send him home.” He sounded concerned.

“Is he going to be okay?” It slipped out before Draco realized what he was saying. But he was worried, for Ginny’s sake.

“He’ll be fine,” Harry said, and hesitated a moment. “Ginny will be glad to hear that,” he said, too nonchalantly.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in response, unwilling to take the bait.

After a moment, Harry continued. “What happened with you two?” he asked, but Draco still didn’t respond. “I have to tell you,” Harry continued, “when I found out you two were married, I was furious, with you, with her, with myself.”

“With yourself?” Draco couldn’t help asking. “Were you interested in Ginny?”

“I was at the time,” Harry said quietly. “I suppose I thought that it was the logical choice- I’ve known her forever and the Weasleys are all the family I’ve got anyway. Or at least all the family I want to claim,” he added wryly.

“Are you still interested?” Draco forced himself to ask. He wasn’t interested in Harry Potter’s love life, but he was interested to know if Harry was going to pursue Ginny. Ginny had always said she wasn’t interested in Harry, but now that she was free of Draco, perhaps she’d change her mind. He felt sick at the thought of her with another man.

“Not any more,” Harry said, and Draco felt his mood lighten. “I realized that I care about her as a friend and that’s all.” He paused. “Were you worried?” he asked, and Draco could hear the smile in his voice.

“Lay off, Potter.”

“I think she misses you,” Harry said after a moment. “Did you know she hasn’t been to work since she left?”

“Really?” He knew Ginny loved her work.

“Really.”

Draco stared out at the dim sky, deep in thought. Maybe- but no. She’d left, hadn’t she? “But Ginny left me,” Draco said, all the while wondering why he was confiding in Potter. The sky must be falling, he decided. “It was her choice.”

“I can’t guess why,” Harry said. “But maybe she regrets it.”

“When did you take such an interest in my life, Potter?”

Draco heard movement next to him and supposed it was Harry shrugging. “Like I said, Ginny’s family,” he said. “And I want her to be happy, and it always seemed she was happy with you.”

Everyone kept saying that, Draco reflected. And yet Ginny had left without so much as an explanation or a goodbye. With a sigh he pulled out his wand. “I don’t know. But right now, I’d like to concentrate on surviving this.”

Harry laughed again, but grimly, and just then d’Auber stood and held his wand aloft. “Préparez!” he called.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“I guess,” Draco said, gripping his wand.

“Just don’t die,” Harry said. “I don’t want to bring your body back to Ginny.”

“Can it, Potter,” Draco said, and in that moment d’Auber brought his wand down in a decisive motion. Draco and Harry stood. It was time.

. . . . . .

Ginny awoke just after seven, when the first wave of wizards returned. These were the injured, Ginny decided as she scanned them with a critical eye, who’d been sufficiently healed that they could stand the crossing back to England. She looked over them carefully, wishing that Draco was among them- it would mean he’d been hurt, but it would also mean he was safe.

Draco was not among that group, but Ron was. Hermione saw him first and ran to his side before the rest of their group had even realized what was going on. He looked pale and ill, but he was well enough to kiss Hermione thoroughly and hug his family. As Arthur and Hermione helped him to a chair, he told them of the battle at Beauxbatons, where he and Harry had been part of the group who’d infiltrated the castle and caught the dark wizards off-guard. Unfortunately, in the fighting he’d been hit with a rather nasty curse that had cut up his side quite badly. The healers in France had patched him up, but they’d recommended he get re-checked when he got home.

“I’ll take you to St. Mungo’s right now,” Hermione said, standing.

“What about Harry?” Molly asked.

“He wasn’t hurt, so he went to help the fight at the Ministry building,” Ron said. “I haven’t heard anything about them. I assume he’s still there.” He paused and looked at Calliope and Ginny. “I didn’t see Draco or Seamus,” he said. “I think they were at the Ministry building.” Both girls nodded. Ginny felt a strange blend of worry and relief wash over her- she still didn’t know where Draco was, but at least he hadn’t been hurt or killed at Beauxbatons.

As Hermione and Ron Apparated away to St. Mungo’s, the Weasleys and Calliope sat back down, but Ginny walked across the building to speak to one of the Ministry officials who had accompanied the injured on the crossing, a man she knew from his recent visit to St. Mungo’s. The building had emptied out somewhat as people found their loved ones and left with them, but there were still many there waiting. “Any casualties?” she asked the man.

He looked at her in surprise, then recognized her as a healer and shook his head. “But a few of ours were quite seriously hurt. They’re still over there.”

“Do we know what’s going on with the fight at the Ministry?”

He shrugged. “I believe they’re still fighting.”

Ginny nodded and returned to her family, and found herself once more waiting.

The time dragged on, and by nine-thirty Ginny was sure she was going to go mad if she didn’t get some news. Her constant state of worry was wearing on her nerves, and she stared at the ground and ordered herself not to cry.

And then she heard the sweetest sound she could imagine: “There are boats coming!” someone called from the window. As one, the whole group surged to its feet, waiting. After several interminable minutes, an Auror in tattered robes entered and quietly spoke to a Ministry official, who broke out into a smile.

The man pointed his wand at his throat, presumably to magnify his voice, and spoke. “It’s over,” he said, and cheers and gasps of relief broke out all through the crowd. “The dark wizards have been captured and our people are coming home.” As if on cue, the doors opened and tired-looking wizards poured in, their eyes searching the crowd to see if anyone was waiting for them. The sound in the room grew to a dull roar as its occupants laughed, cried, and shouted when they found their loved ones.

The building slowly emptied as the reunited families returned home. Within fifteen minutes, there was only a handful of people still waiting. Harry, Seamus and Draco had still not arrived, and Calliope looked so downcast that Ginny impulsively took her hand. “He’s coming home,” she said, and Calliope nodded, gripping Ginny’s hand so tightly that it hurt. But Ginny welcomed the pain; it gave her something to hold on to, something to ground her as she fought her own worry and terror.

Another twenty minutes passed, an endlessly long twenty minutes, before the another boat arrived and its occupants appeared.

“Seamus!” Calliope cried, and ran across the room to him. Her boyfriend, dirty and bruised but still smiling, caught her up in his arms and twirled her around, both of them laughing and crying as they held each other. Ginny smiled. Even though her own heart was still aching, she was glad that Seamus was back safely.

Harry came through the door then, looking around himself awkwardly, and when his eyes fell on the Weasleys his face lit up with pleasure and surprise; after so much time, it still surprised him that he had someone who cared about him that way. Arthur and Molly were across the room in an instant, and Ginny followed closely after, her eyes still on the door as she waited for Draco to walk through it. He never did, and in a few moments, she realized that Harry was the last member of that group.

When Molly and Arthur were done hugging Harry, Ginny hugged him as well, thinking all the while of how she’d been so annoyed with him a few months earlier. It was amazing how a crisis made people realize who was really important to them.

“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked as he pulled away from Ginny.

Ginny’s heart dropped into her stomach. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head. “I was with him at the Bâtiment d'Administration, but we got separated once we were inside. I assumed that he came back already. That was the last boat, and if he wasn’t on it . . .” He trailed off and looked at Ginny, apparently realizing too late how his words were affecting her.

She stared at him, her fingernails digging into her hands, too shocked even to cry. Maybe he was just hurt, she told herself, and the French healers had kept him there to make sure he was all right. Or maybe he’s dead, came an unwelcome thought, and she clenched her fists harder to keep her hands from shaking. She could hear people talking around her, and she assumed some of them were addressing her, but she couldn’t slow her mind down enough to make sense of the words. Draco was going to be all right- or was he dead? A picture suddenly flashed into her mind of her husband lying still and cold on a spiral staircase, and she was suddenly thankful that she’d never had any talent with Divination and had no reason to believe the vision might be real.

“You know,” Harry said, “he went there to help deal with the French Ministry. He’s probably just finishing up with them. I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

Molly had taken her hand. “Yes, of course, that’s what happened.”

Ginny just shook her head. “Oh, Mum,” she whispered, and that was the last thing she said for quite some time.

The room slowly emptied around them until only the Weasleys and Harry remained. “Maybe I should go back,” Harry said a few minutes later. Molly and Arthur immediately began voicing their concerns, but Ginny, still in a dazed state, could only wonder at the fact that her eyes were still so dry. Maybe she was going crazy.

Harry walked to the door and the movement brought Ginny back to herself somewhat. She had just turned to look at her mother when Harry suddenly stuck his head back in the door. “Brooms!” he called, and Ginny tensed suddenly. She wanted to run outside, to see if it was Draco, but her feet refused to respond. So she stood still and had a sudden feeling that based on who came through that door, her heart would either start beating again or stop forever.

In a few moments the door opened and Harry came through followed by three men, all looking tired and battered. The third was Draco, dirty and bandaged.

He looked up and his eyes, full of longing, met Ginny’s. They stared at each other for a long moment across the room, and then Ginny’s legs gave out, the result of a mix of fatigue and sudden, light-headed relief. She fell into the chair behind her, put her head down, and began to cry.

Draco was there in an instant, kneeling on the ground before her, forcing her to look at him. “Ginny,” he whispered, and his voice was like a prayer, “Ginny, please come home. I don’t want to live without you anymore. I love you too much.”

Ginny wondered for a moment if she was dreaming. But no, he was there before her, real and warm and pleading. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and she knew he meant every word. He looked anxious, waiting for her answer, and when she smiled he smiled back.

He wrapped her in a tight embrace, and with a pop they were back at Malfoy Manor- back home, Ginny thought- in the front hall she’d never thought to see again. But she didn’t have much time to reflect because he was brushing his fingers gently over her face, looking down at her as though he was afraid she’d disappear if he looked away. Then he dipped his head toward hers and carefully, finally, kissed her. It left her breathlessly smiling, and when he pulled away she looked at him earnestly.

“I love you,” she said.

“Good answer,” he said.

And Bernard the house elf, unnoticed in the corner where he’d been dusting, smiled. “It’s about time.”

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

Come, madam wife, sit by my side
and let the world slip: we shall ne’er be younger.

The Taming of the Shrew, Induction, scene ii

. . . . . .

And so Ginny Weasley Malfoy got everything she’d ever wanted, beginning with a fairytale wedding. The Malfoys decided, a few days after the incident in France, that they should hold a second ceremony to apologize to all their friends and family who hadn’t gotten to attend the first time around.

It was held a month after the uprising, on Ginny and Draco’s four month anniversary. Ginny wouldn’t have believed it was possible to put a wedding together that quickly, but then, she hadn’t expected her mother and Elise to join forces on the project. The two women met at the first dinner party at Malfoy Manor in many years- in which the hosts sat side by side, rather than at opposite ends of the table, as Draco’s late parents had been known to do- and found themselves perfectly matched in manic energy and passion for planning parties. From that moment on, Draco and Ginny found their wedding plans all but taken over.

They didn’t mind a bit, really; Draco was only interested in details insofar as they related to him looking “very good in dress robes,” as he said, and Ginny was more than ready to let Elise and Molly help out as an apology for lying to them for so long. Both women, though shocked on hearing the truth, insisted that all was forgiven, but Ginny was glad to have some means of recompense.

Ginny’s parents and the Stewarts were the only people the Malfoys told the truth to; they told the Stewarts because James already knew and they didn’t want him to have to keep secrets from Elise, and they told they Weasleys because Ginny’s guilt was finally too much for her. Both couples were surprised but very supportive; still, telling them was uncomfortable enough that Ginny and Draco agreed that while they might someday tell more people, that would be a long while in the future.

The invitations went out less than a week after Elise and Molly went to work on the wedding plans. All of the Weasley clan was invited, of course, as well as Colin and Neville- who were both invited to bring dates, though Draco was reluctant to have Romilda Vane attend, understandably, as her forward flirtations had extended even into Slytherin- and Dean Thomas, to whom Draco objected for another reason entirely.

“He’s a very good friend,” said Ginny firmly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Draco retorted.

“I wouldn’t object to your inviting Pansy,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but I would,” her husband responded immediately.

But in the end he did invite Pansy, along with Jens Reichmann the third. Draco didn’t have a lot of family, so he made up for it in friends, including many members of the Slytherin Horde whom Draco wanted to gloat over. The Stewarts and Zabinis were invited, as well as Seamus and Calliope. With Ginny and Draco’s work associates, Hogwarts professors, former Order members and a long list of near strangers that Molly and Elise insisted had to be invited, the guest list was quite dauntingly long.

One person who was especially pleased to receive his invitation was Severus Snape, who’d become unbearably smug since hearing that his plan had worked, albeit belatedly. Draco had cooled down enough to forgive him, and he was once again in good enough standing at Malfoy Manor to be asked around for dinner. Of course, he noticed that Draco often brought up the near-disastrous matchmaking attempt, and he had a feeling his young friend would be holding it against him for a long time.

Still, it was all worth it when he saw Draco holding Ginny’s hand under the table or kissing her when he thought no one was watching. He’d never seen Draco like that, had never seen the boy so happy as when he stood at the dinner party and announced that he and Ginny were to renew their vows. Severus knew well the significance of that; nor did he miss the look the two young lovers exchanged as Draco sat back down. He’d never seen Ginevra and Draco look at each other like that before, and while he normally didn’t care about happily ever afters, he felt sure this was going to be one.

Hermione and Hannah were also very pleased to hear of Draco and Ginny’s reconciliation, and Hermione and Ginny spent several very happy afternoons doing wedding shopping and looking through bridal magazines together. Ginny felt a little embarrassed about holding her wedding so close to Hemione’s; the Malfoy wedding was going to be quite grand, and she knew that Ron and Hermione’s would be rather modest. But when Ginny apologized to her for taking away some of the attention that should have been hers, Hermione just laughed and said it made her feel almost like they were sisters.

And it was Hermione who suggested that the Malfoys follow the Muggle tradition of having bridesmaids and groomsmen. Ginny was delighted with the idea and rattled off her four choices immediately: Hermione, Hannah, Luna and Elise. Draco was much slower about selecting groomsmen. James was the obvious first choice, as well as for best man, but it took several days before he hit on the idea of Remus Lupin as a nod to Tonks; his cousin and her husband were nearly all the family he had in the world, and he’d recently decided that his family connections were worth preserving.

His third groomsman wasn’t picked until a few days later, when he received an unexpected letter from Spain. His close friend Blaise Zabini, who’d been there recovering from war injuries for some time, had been planning to return home in the autumn, but on hearing of Draco’s wedding had determined to go to England in time to attend. When Draco read that letter he was so happy he nearly cried, and Ginny, lying on the sofa with her head in his lap, was so pleased to see him so openly emotional that she simply had to kiss him. She was daily learning something new about her husband, and each new facet of his personality delighted her.

Draco needed another groomsman to match Ginny’s four bridesmaids and finally asked Seamus, only to be informed that due to a sister’s wedding back home in Ireland, Seamus was unable to attend, as a groomsman or otherwise. With time running out to find a fourth, Draco shocked everyone by asking Harry to be his groomsman. To everyone’s further shock, Harry agreed immediately.

“He’s not so bad, really,” Harry would shrug when asked.

Draco would simply look surprised. “We’ve always been best friends. Didn’t you know?”

The wedding was held at Malfoy Manor. That morning, Elise, Molly and the house elves- “Well, they’re very efficient, aren’t they?” said an impressed Molly- decorated the house and the stretch of grass just behind, where the ceremony was to be held. The final result was so spectacular that Hermione, walking with Ron and Draco, gasped in surprise and stated, only half jokingly, that she was going to hold her wedding at Malfoy Manor, a proposition to which Draco agreed readily, just to see the horrified look on Ron's face.

The ceremony was held that afternoon, conducted by an elderly wizard from the Ministry- the same wizard who had once, in a far-distance youth, married Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett. Draco looked, as he’d hoped, very good in his dress robes, but it was Ginny who amazed everyone, including her husband. She’d always been pretty enough- Draco had noticed, that day they’d gotten engaged, her warm eyes and expressive mouth- and of course as his feelings for her had progressed he’d come to consider her more beautiful than any other girl, as all lovers think of their beloved. But as she walked up the aisle, happiness radiating from every inch of her skin, she was stunning.

Draco, no less happy himself, couldn’t resist leaning over to James. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“My wife’s hot.”

When the ceremony was over and Molly’s tears had subsided somewhat, they had a grand dinner in the ballroom. James and Blaise, unsure of who really ought to be best man, both gave toasts. “I’m sorry I don’t know Ginny very well,” said Blaise, raising his glass, “but I do know Draco, and I know I haven’t seen him this happy in a very long time, and for that, Ginny, I’m glad he found you.”

“You surprised us all,” James said when it was his turn, addressing Draco, “showing up at that party with a fiancée none of us had even heard of on your arm. It was all very fast-“ and here the Malfoys and Stewarts shared knowing smiles- “and I had my doubts about whether this marriage would work out. But over the last few months I’ve watched you two, and now I know that you’re going to make it, because I don’t know when I've seen another couple as much in love as you are. To Draco and Ginny!”

And the rest of the room raised their glasses and echoed, “To Draco and Ginny!”

In the evening they had a reception, as per Molly’s wishes, for acquaintances and well-wishers- “and social climbers,” Draco grumbled- who hadn’t been invited to the ceremony but who wished to come congratulate the couple. And come they did. The Malfoys were a prominent couple, and a large group of people had gathered in front of Malfoy Manor before the reception had even begun.

“I had no idea this many people would come,” Ginny said in surprise, peeking out the window of the second-story sitting room that Elise and Molly had turned into a dressing room for the day.

“They just came to see my dazzling good looks,” Draco said from his spot in the corner, where he was sprawled across a chaise longue.

Identical snorts of derision came from the two Weasley women in the room, and Ginny smiled, glad that her mother had learned, over the course of planning the wedding, how to deal with Draco almost as well as Ginny herself. Things had been much better between the Malfoys and the Weasleys of late. The Weasley men had even invited Draco- without Ginny, who’d been busy looking for a dress that day- to join them on one of their frequent Quidditch outings out behind the Burrow. A very confident Draco left Malfoy Manor that morning, impeccably turned out and carrying his expensive new racing broom; he returned that night muddy and ranting that the twins were absolute terrors who ought never to be allowed to play Beater. Ginny thought that was a definite step in the right direction.

“Well, just in case they did come to see your good looks, darling, sit back down,” said Molly, who was trying to fix Ginny's hair, which had become a bit mussed over the course of the long day.

Ginny obeyed and a moment later her mother was done and bustling out of the room to double-check all the arrangements. “Do we have to go out there?” Draco asked.

“Come on,” Ginny urged. “I know you want everyone to see how pretty you are today.”

Draco pondered that a moment. “Yes, I see your point,” he said grandly. “Let’s be off, then.”

Despite the large crowds, the reception went off without a hitch. Ginny was beautiful, Draco was charming, and a great many people who came simply to see why Ginny Weasley was throwing herself away on Draco Malfoy went away pleasantly surprised.

The large number of guests meant that the reception went longer than expected, and by the time it ended Ginny and Draco were both exhausted. “What time is it?” Draco yawned as he and Ginny waved goodbye to Arthur and Molly, the last guests to leave.

Ginny took hold of his wrist to look at his watch. “Almost one,” she said. “Do you think the refreshments are still in the kitchen? I’m famished.”

Draco proclaimed himself in favor of finding out and the Malfoys wandered into the kitchen, where the house elves were only too eager to offer them pastries and punch. The outside door was open and the couple wandered outside and sat side by side on the stairs, as they had done on that night when they’d talked about Draco’s mother. The night was cool and a breeze moved silently across the grass, tousling Ginny’s long hair, which had finally come out of its carefully arranged twist.

“Are you happy?” Draco asked suddenly.

“Not really,” Ginny shrugged, examining her tart closely. “I thought this was going to be apple.”

Draco didn’t reply, and after a moment Ginny turned to look at him; when she saw his impassive face, she realized he’d been in earnest. “Wait, you meant it?” she asked, chagrined. “I’m sorry. Ask me again; I’ll be serious this time.”

“It's too late,” Draco said, his face a perfect mask of sincerity. “The moment’s gone.”

“Give me another chance!” She sat up straight and cleared her throat. “Why yes, Draco,” she said, “I am perfectly happy, even though this is a lemon tart.”

Draco looked at her a long moment, his expression grave. Then: “I like lemon.”

“You would,” Ginny remarked with a sigh and handed him the rest of her pastry.

He took it with a laugh and finished it in silence as Ginny leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder. After a few moments Draco spoke. “So you were serious?”

“Yes, actually,” Ginny said earnestly. “The part where I said I’d be serious- everything after that point, I was being serious.”

“Don't mock me, Weasel,” Draco growled, and his wife giggled.

“It’s Malfoy these days, haven’t you heard?”

Her words sobered him up quite suddenly. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, gesturing at his slightly rumpled dress robes. “The Malfoy name is going to earn you a lot of enemies in a lot of places.”

“Well, if I’m not sure, it’s rather too late now, isn’t it?” He shot her a dirty look and she laughed. “Don’t get so touchy,” she said, and sat back so she could see all of his face at once. He was very still, as he always was when he was holding back emotions. “You’re very serious tonight, Mr. Malfoy,” she observed.

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.” He paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Being married to me is probably hard-”

“Well, I know that-”

“And this isn’t just a year and a half. This is-”

“Forever,” Ginny cut in decidedly. “Which is how long I intend to stay.”

Draco was not good at saying romantic things- at least not if he meant them- so he just looked down and exhaled. “Good.” Next to him Ginny smiled. Draco paused awkwardly, feeling that something more was in order. “You look beautiful tonight.”

All he got from Ginny was a laugh. “This is too strange. Insult me or something so I know you’re not Gilderoy Lockhart using a Polyjuice Potion.”

“I’m trying to have a moment here,” Draco retorted, annoyed. “Can you please respect that?”

“Ah, there’s the man I married,” Ginny grinned, and kissed him.

“So what’s next?” she asked a few moments later.

“Honeymoon,” Draco replied. “That Switzerland thing didn’t really count.”

"I’d have to agree with that,” Ginny said. “Although we did have a lovely time with your ex-girlfriend.” She paused, looking up at the sky, a mischievous smile playing over her lips. “And then after that, we should start thinking about children.”

Draco choked on his punch. “Slow down,” he coughed when he could breathe again. “We’re both young. I don’t think we need to rush into things.”

“We can wait a bit,” Ginny agreed jovially. “But this conversation isn’t over. We are going to have children.”

“I suppose do need an heir,” Draco mused.

“Seven.”

“I need seven heirs?”

“Seven children,” Ginny corrected. “I told you when we got married, I want seven. And really, we’ve got more than enough room for that many. Just be glad I don’t want more.”

“I really think one might be enough.”

“Seven.”

“Two.”

“Seven.”

“Three.”

“Still seven.”

“I don’t think you’re getting the whole bargaining thing,” Draco said. “You’re supposed to change your offer.”

“Oh,” said Ginny as if she’d suddenly understood. “Eight, then.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Draco said firmly.

Ginny yawned and laid her head on his shoulder. “Fine, as long as I win the argument,” she said, and her voice was thick and muffled with impending sleep.

And Draco put his arm around his wife and helped her up off the stairs, and the two tottered sleepily inside, past the trays of leftover lemon tarts and the silver wedding decorations still up in the front entry. And as the Malfoys climbed the stairs, side by side, Draco turned to Ginny. “So what happens after that?”

She smiled. “We live happily ever after.”

He nodded. “I agree. Let’s do that.”

And they did.

. . . . . .

She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare.

The Taming of the Shrew, act III scene ii

. . . . .

fin