Author's Notes: Written for the dgficexchange in response to a request for a 6-foot tall Ginny with large feet and a Draco with a shoe fetish. I tried my best.


The bell above the doorway at No. 93 in Diagon Alley tinkled softly as Ginny poked her head through the gap. “Fred? George?”

There was no immediate response, which the young woman correctly interpreted as permission to ignore the “Closed” sign (posted 5 minutes too early, she noticed). She let herself into her brothers' shop, walking swiftly past the colorful collection of objects on the shelves until she reached the curtain marked “Private.” A flick of her wrist brought her into the twins' laboratory. Not seeing a single soul, Ginny marched up to the bottom of the stairs and called out in a louder voice. “Fred! George! Are you there?”

A few muffled thuds sounded from the ceiling before a faint voice drifted down to her. “Yeah, luv. Be down in a bit.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and placed her package, a savory pie left over from tonight's dinner, on the table by the wall. It would have bean easier for everyone involved had her mother simply sent the pie via owl post. However, since owls lacked the power of speech and thus would not have been able to give Molly Weasley the necessary intelligence she required, it fell to Ginny to acquire the answers to such questions as “Is the laundry piling up in the corner?” Or “Is there enough food in the pantry?” And most importantly “Are there any strange girls wandering about?”

The young woman stretched out her arms and looked around her with interest. Since she was already here, she might as well take advantage of her visit to sniff out what new projects the twins were working on. As Ginny leaned over a bowl, a pungent odor tickled her nose.

“ACHOOO!!!”

She sneezed violently, sending up the contents in a cloud of glittering purple dust that quickly settled on her. She barely had time to brush it off her clothes when her skin began to tingle from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes.

“What in the—”

Ginny blinked a few times. That purple powder was making her see things. Her legs were definitely not growing longer and the seams on her dress were not about to burst. She rubbed her eyes again to clear her vision. Unfortunately, it was not a dream. Within the space of a few seconds, she'd gone from her naturally petite self to this lumbering, unsteady...giant. A giant with rather large feet, she noted with dismay.

“Gin! So kind of you to bring us our sup—”

Fred's rushed chatter halted as soon as he saw his sister. A frown creased his face. “What happened to you?”

“How should I know? I'm not the one who leaves dangerous powders out for innocent people to stumble upon!” Furious, Ginny stalked over to where her brother stood and began poking him in the chest. “This is your fault! Fix it! Now!”

Her brother hastily backed away, hands held up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Was it that?” he asked, pointing to the overturned bowl. When Ginny nodded, he sighed and pulled at his hair, which stuck out in various directions. “We're still in the middle of development for that one. Haven't got an antidote for you, I’m afraid. But,” he hurriedly added in response to a low growl from his sister, “it’s not that stable, so it should wear off within twenty-four hours.”

Ginny found that statement to be less than reassuring. “And what am I supposed to do until then? I can't go around looking like this!” she demanded in a nearly hysterical tone.

Before Fred could reply, another voice, clearly feminine, came from upstairs. “Fred, darling...are you coming back?”

Her brother's mood changed quickly. Ginny found herself being herded out the room, towards the front door. “You'll just have to be patient, Gin,” he said. “Go home, have a drink or two, and you'll feel better about this in the morning. Ta!”

The door closed in her face before she could give him a kick in the shins.

***

Ginny stared sceptically at her reflection in the mirror. She'd thought to try her hand at transfiguring her clothing since she didn’t want to buy a whole new wardrobe to accommodate her new size. A waste of galleons, she’d thought. The results were rather depressing.

“Just what I thought, new clothes for you,” the mirror chided her gently.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” she snapped back. The mirror grumbled its displeasure at her rudeness but otherwise made no more suggestions.

The shirt would do, she decided. The buttons wouldn't pop off as long as she didn't move her shoulders too much. And the trousers, though hanging around her knees, at least managed to fit around her waist. The boots (borrowed from a neighbor down the hall) were a bit shabby but she had no choice. She’d already destroyed one pair of shoes and was loathe to mutilate more of them. Besides, Fred had promised that this was a temporary situation. If not, well...

Ginny smiled grimly at the mirror as she straightened out the cuffs. She did have a certain skill with Severing Charms.

***

The house-elf led Ginny to a room off to the side of the main hall. Malfoy’s library seemed comfortable enough, with a warm fire blazing in the fireplace and leather-bound books filling the shelves.

“Please wait here for the Master.” The elf bowed low as he disappeared with a loud CRACK!

“Well, might as well start while I’m here,” she sighed and waved her wand slowly over the shelves. An examination of the books that slid out revealed nothing incriminatory; Malfoy obviously had been careful about following the terms that allowed him to stay out of Azkaban. As Ginny replaced the last book, she marveled at her new ability to reach the topmost shelf without having to use a Summoning charm. Perhaps being this tall had its advantages.

“A lot has changed in the past few years, I see.”

Ginny whirled around at the drawling voice. Leaning against the doorway was the Manor’s current owner, Draco Malfoy. He was dressed simply, a crisp white shirt, sleeves folded up to his elbows, and black trousers that looked sinfully soft to touch. The entire ensemble screamed “You can’t afford this and don’t even try.” It made her even more painfully aware of how she looked in her badly fitting clothes and borrowed boots.

“Not another word, Malfoy.” Her finger waved threateningly in his direction. “Unless you want me to drop a less than positive report on Moody’s desk.”

“Of course not, Miss Weasley,” he said smoothly, even though his eyes glinted with undisguised amusement. “Shall we begin then?”

They proceeded with the annual inspection of the Manor, a requirement for any individual with past ties to the Death Eaters. Ginny was pleasantly surprised to find Draco quite polite and cooperative, answering all her questions and agreeing to all of her requests. The man who trailed behind her seemed quite different from the sullen and pompous boy she'd remembered from her days at Hogwarts. He’d kept mostly to himself and the Manor after the end of the War, his role in defeating Voldemort’s forces still unclear to this day. All she could deduce from the gossip was that he provided the Ministry with some information they’d found useful in return for his freedom.

“Is this still necessary, Weasley?” he asked as she stuck her head inside a cabinet. “The Ministry should be satisfied after four years of these inspections"

“It’s not up to me, Malfoy.” She peered behind the edge of a portrait, its occupant muttering something about the violation of his space. As she turned away, Ginny noticed that Draco had reached out to straighten the frame. She hid her smirk behind the bright fall of her hair.

“Let's try that room, shall we?” The door opened into a distinctly feminine chamber. Sunlight poured in past delicate draperies, illuminating a large bed covered with a pink bedspread. The scent of freshly-cut flowers wafted to her nose.

“My mother’s room,” Draco said quietly.

Silently nodding her head, Ginny walked over to the closet door and opened it. Robes and dresses made from the finest materials still hung from the racks, clean and ready to be worn. Hats and scarves were packed away inside boxes. Lacy underthings were folded neatly inside a small dresser. All the elements of a woman's wardrobe carefully preserved. Rather creepy, she thought to herself and shuddered delicately.

However, something just didn't feel right. She didn't realize what was bothering her until she almost got to the door.

“Shoes!”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked quizzically at her.

“The shoes, where are they?” she demanded.

“I don’t know…the house-elves must’ve put them elsewhere.”

His excuse sounded weak to her ears. Ginny rushed back to the closet and threw open the doors. Now that she knew what she was looking for, the closet did seem much too small for a woman of Narcissa Malfoy's status. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the back wall.

“Ostendo!”

The wall's outline glowed briefly before disappearing, revealing a hidden chamber beyond the closet.

“I can explain everything—”

“Shut up, Malfoy. And hands out of your pockets, if you please.” Draco did as she requested and watched her closely.

Confronting Dark Magic was nothing new to Ginny. Wand at the ready, she stepped into the room, prepared for whatever horror lay within.

Only...

She blinked back in shock when light filled the chamber. There must have been hundreds of them, maybe more. Row upon row of women's shoes, of every conceivable style and neatly arranged by color.

Ginny felt Draco come up behind her. She spun around quickly, her wand aimed at his chest. He only nodded towards the shoes. “My mother’s.”

“And here I thought you had some kind of unhealthy fascination with women's footwear.”

A flush appeared on Malfoy's pale cheeks, but he said nothing in response. Instead he walked over to a shelf and picked up a mule made out of pink dragon hide and topped with white feathers.

“She loved shoes…more than jewelry in fact. A different pair for every occasion, for every outfit. She liked to come here and just look at them.” Draco continued to rub his thumb over the leather, his face half-hidden by his white-gold hair. “When she…died, I tried to close up the room. But I couldn't do it. And I couldn't let the Aurors…or anyone else see it. No doubt they'd jump to the same conclusion you did.”

Ginny listened quietly to his sad tale, a touching story of a son’s devotion to his mother. Too bad it was an absolute piece of crock.

“You're an awful liar, Malfoy.”

The room was silent. Then, to her astonishment, Draco let out a chuckle. “Guess you're not the sentimental type,” he said as he replaced the shoe on the shelf. “It was just a small trick; I wanted to see if the Aurors would notice the missing room. As you can see there's nothing sinister in here, though you're more than welcome to look around.”

Slowly shaking her head at this bit of insanity, Ginny walked around slowly and inspected the room. The shoes were indeed very lovely. And of course, very expensive. A flash of brilliance caught her eye. On the opposite shelf lay a pair of delicate glass slippers. She picked one up and turned it over, wondering how anyone could possibly wear such a thing.

“There's a cushioning charm on the inside. You can even try it on, if you like. It looks about your size.”

Ginny turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about shoes.”

He shrugged. “They're works of art. Why shouldn't I admire them?”

Ginny needed no other encouragement. She sat down on a cushioned stool, pulled off the detestable boots and tried on the glass slippers. A sigh of delight escaped from her lips. They fit perfectly!

But before she could stand up and try them out, her skin began to tingle, a sign that the twins' spell was reversing. In two seconds she was back to her normal size, the slipper now much too big and hanging off her toes.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Umm...it's a long story.” Ginny was sure her face was as red as her hair.

“Of course.” Draco was clearly amused, though he refrained from mocking her predicament. “If I may...”

He took out his wand and aimed it at her. Her shirt and trousers were transformed back to their original shape. “I'm rather handy with the tailoring spells,” he said in response to her inquiring look. “Not so with the shoes, unfortunately. But I've got a solution for that.” He walked over to another shelf, pulled out a pair of brown flats and brought them to her. “They’re charmed to fit whoever wears them.”

Ginny tried them on and watched as the shoes molded themselves around her feet. Quite comfy too, she noted with approval.

“You can return them when you join me for dinner tomorrow night.” She looked up in shock at the outrageous request. He regarded her with a half-smile on his lips, as if expecting her to furiously turn down his offer and march straight out of the room.

Instead, Ginny did the unpredictable. “If chocolate’s on the menu, then it’s a deal,” she said and flashed him a brilliant smile of her own.