In My Life

Prologue

Ginny collapsed onto the bench next to her mother. The day’s tumult of emotions had caught up with her—the frustration of being confined to the Room of Requirement, the adrenaline of battle, the shock of her grief for Fred, her anxiety for Harry, and finally the elation that came with the end of the war. Now that the celebration was waning, she wanted nothing more than for her mother to comfort her as if she was still a little girl. Molly seemed to sense Ginny’s neediness, and engulfed her daughter in a warm embrace.

“You were amazing today, Mum,” Ginny said after a while.

Molly shrugged. “No, not really. I just did what I had to do to keep you safe.”

“Still,” Ginny said, “I had no idea you could duel like that.”

“And you would still have no idea if you had done as you were told and stayed in the Room of Requirement,” Molly scolded.

“I was just doing what I thought was right. You taught me to do that.”

“I know,” Molly said with a sigh. “I can’t really blame you—I would have done exactly the same thing at your age. But you were extremely lucky. When I think about how close that curse came…” She began to shake, then to sob. “Like Fred.” Ginny hugged Molly more tightly, leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder. “You’ll understand one day,” Molly choked out once she had regained some semblance of composure. “You’ll understand once you have children of your own.”

Ginny couldn’t stop herself from turning towards Harry, who was talking to an endless stream of people. She could see the lines around his eyes, and the sag of his shoulders. She knew he must be exhausted, but he still listened politely as each witch or wizard spoke to him. Each one touched him as if he were some talisman that would always keep them safe. Ginny loved him more than ever for it. She wished she could whisk him away from the crowds, but that wasn’t her place. Harry had ended their relationship, and she would just have to live without him.

Seeing where Ginny was looking, Molly squeezed her tighter. “Don’t worry, Ginny. He’ll come around, you’ll see. You’ll have your happy ending.”

“How do you know?” Ginny asked, hoping her mother had hidden abilities in Divination, just as she seemed to have in dueling.

“Because that’s what we fought for,” Molly said simply. “Your father and I fought so all of you could have your happy endings.”

***

Draco pushed his breakfast around his plate. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been hungry—probably before his father had been sent to Azkaban in his fifth year at Hogwarts. That had been when everything started to go wrong.

Things could have been much, much worse, Draco knew. Harry Potter had surprised the entire wizarding world by testifying at the Malfoys’ trial, claiming that Narcissa had given him material support, in direct defiance of Lord Voldemort, which had allowed him to defeat the dark wizard, and asking the Wizengamot to be merciful. So instead of throwing them into Azkaban and confiscating their assets, the court had grudgingly allowed the Malfoys to remain in their home, with their fortune intact. Draco knew he should be grateful, but life wasn’t easy, especially considering the last few weeks.

Whenever Draco ventured out of the Manor, he heard people whispering about him behind his back. Sometimes they would even curse him to his face. Only the day before, as he made his way through Diagon Alley, a witch had “accidentally” spilled a packet of Bulbadox Powder on his robes, muttering, “Malfoy filth,” as she did so. “Harry Potter might be willing to forgive you, but I’m not.” Luckily, he hadn’t gotten any of it on his skin, avoiding an outbreak of boils, but had Apparated home immediately, instead of continuing on to the office, shaken by the incident.

As unhappy as Draco was, he suspected that his parents had endured much worse. His mother had come home empty-handed from a shopping expedition earlier in the week. She had said that she just didn’t find anything that she wanted to buy, but from the tightness around her lips as she said it, Draco knew she had been lying. His father never left the house anymore, even to go to work, and his brow was continually creased in worry. The tension at Malfoy Manor was driving Draco mad.

An owl swooped in through the window, rousing Draco from his thoughts. His father’s face became completely impassive as he read the letter.

“What is it, Lucius?” Narcissa asked.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” Lucius said, crumpling the parchment in his hand.

“Another broken contract?” Narcissa asked evenly.

Lucius looked at her sharply, clearly just as curious as Draco was himself. “Broken contract?” he asked.

“Don’t lie to me, Lucius. That’s the third one this week.” Draco saw his father’s shoulders sag. “It’s time, I think,” Narcissa continued.

Lucius sighed and nodded. Draco asked, “Time for what?”

“Time for us to go,” his father said.

Draco was stunned. “Where would we go?” he asked.

“Not you, dear,” Narcissa said gently.

“But—” Draco began, but his mother cut him off.

“No buts, darling. You’re young. With time, they’ll forgive and forget. Your father and I, though—we were in too far for that. We’re better off moving away from the scrutiny.” She looked at Lucius and with the hint of a smirk said, “I hear the Bahamas are lovely.”

Draco was even more confused—his parents had already been to the Bahamas, on their honeymoon. Then Lucius smiled at his wife, and Draco understood. He blushed slightly, but his parents didn’t seem to notice.

After a moment, they turned their attention back to Draco. “Nobody trusts me anymore,” Lucius said matter-of-factly, “but once you take over the business, you should be able to hold on to the rest of the contracts.”

“Once I take over the business?” Draco asked, overwhelmed. He hadn’t planned on that for at least a decade. Now he would have to do so without his father on hand to give him advice.

Lucius nodded, and Narcissa added, “You’ll need to marry first, of course. You can’t inherit properly until you do.”

Draco looked at his mother incredulously, then burst into laughter. “Marry? Who do you want me to marry? Pansy Parkinson?”

“Of course not,” Narcissa scoffed. “That tramp would ruin your reputation beyond repair.”

“I’m afraid she’s the only woman I know who wouldn’t try to murder me in my sleep, so marriage is clearly out of the question.”

Narcissa smiled deviously. “Then I suggest you find someone who doesn’t know you.”

Lucius nodded. “I think going to France would be best. I believe Etienne Broussard has a daughter about your age. If you don’t like her, I’m sure he or one of our other contacts there can introduce you to someone appropriate.”

“Someone appropriate,” Draco echoed stupidly. His mind spun. He had only ever contemplated marriage as some vague event that would occur in the distant future, but now it seemed to be imminent, whether he liked it or not. He stopped for a moment to think about the alternatives—Azkaban at worst or life as a social pariah at best.

Narcissa gently touched Draco’s shoulder. “You know I have only wanted the best for you,” she said quietly. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for your sake. This is no different. It will work out, I promise you.”

Draco looked at his mother and swallowed hard. He had always trusted her judgment before. He would trust her this time as well.

***

Ginny was tingling with excitement. The house was perfect—it had a big kitchen, lots of details that made it unique, and plenty of room for the three or four children she hoped for. She was decorating the sitting room in her mind when she felt Harry’s hand on her waist.

“I love it!” she gushed, turning toward her fiancé. “Don’t you?”

Ginny only needed to see the guarded look on Harry’s face to know his answer. He shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess,” he said, looking around vaguely. “It’s kind of empty, though.”

“Of course it’s empty!” Ginny said, swatting him lightly on the arm. “There’s no furniture yet!”

Harry just shrugged again. Ginny sighed. He was beginning to drive her mad. She had been deliriously happy when he had proposed, but that happiness was quickly turning to frustration. They had been looking at houses for the past three months, but they had met with no success whatsoever. Whenever Ginny liked a house, Harry would say that it was “too sterile” or “too boring” or “too empty”. She was beginning to think they would never find a house of their own.

“Fine,” Ginny said disappointedly. “I’ll talk to the agent. I suppose we had better be going, anyway. Mum’s expecting us any minute.”

Ginny watched as Harry’s eyes lit up at the prospect of visiting the Burrow. It triggered something in her mind. At dinner that night, she watched Harry carefully. He gravitated towards whichever part of the house was the most crowded, surrounding himself with the people he loved. Twice or three times, she caught him looking wistfully at the house. Finally she understood. After the Dursleys, Harry craved the warmth of family, the welcome of a cluttered and crowded home.

At the first opportunity, she pulled him aside. “I was thinking that maybe we should move in here once we’re married, instead of looking at more houses,” she said.

Harry looked at her wide-eyed. “Move in here? We could do that?” he asked hopefully.

Ginny smiled softly. “We’d have to ask my parents, of course, but I’m sure they wouldn’t object. It is tradition after all.”

“Tradition?” Harry asked. He looked adorably confused.

“In the old wizarding families, one child moves into their parents’ home at marriage, as master or mistress of the house. The parents stay as long as they live, but it keeps families together. None of my brothers seemed to want to move in here, though, so we probably could.”

“You don’t think your parents would mind?”

“I doubt it. They think of you as almost a son anyway, and I bet my mum would love to be so close to her grandbabies!”

Harry blushed at the mention of their future children, then his face burst into the widest grin Ginny had ever seen. “That would be brilliant!” he said. “You’re the greatest, Gin!” He hugged her tightly, then made his way across the crowded sitting room to share his good news with Ron and Hermione.

Ginny sighed. She had hoped that when they married, she would have part of Harry’s life—even if it was just a little part—to herself. Now she would have to share him with her parents and brothers and all of the myriad people who seemed to visit the Burrow every week. But the smile on Harry’s face was worth it.

***

Draco paced the corridors of St. Mungo’s. He had been holding Yvette’s hand through a contraction when she had passed out, and the Healers had shoved him unceremoniously from the room. Nobody would tell him anything—they were too busy with his wife to spare him a moment. However, the expressions on the Healers’ faces made him fear the worst.

What would he do if he lost Yvette? He had been uncommonly lucky to find her in the first place. He hadn’t realized it at first—she had merely been the most likely prospect among the women he had met in France, beautiful and intelligent, with a large dowry. She had only married him to escape her overbearing father. But over the years, his respect for her had turned into deep affection. He thought of how empty the Manor would feel without her easy laughter filling it, and shuddered.

And what of the child? Ever since Scorpius had been born, enchanting them both, Draco and Yvette had longed for another child, but with no results. They had been overjoyed when she had finally discovered that she was once again with child. Would the baby survive whatever complications Yvette was suffering?

Draco turned a corner only to come face to face with Scorpius. The boy was even paler than usual, and uncharacteristically serious; he seemed much older than his twelve years. The two of them stared at each other silently for a few moments, and the image held, only to be shattered when Draco opened his arms in invitation, and his son threw himself into them, crying like a small child.

They found a place to sit and wait for news, Draco forcing himself to stay still for Scorpius’s sake. When Yvette’s Healer appeared, looking solemn, face smeared with blood, Draco’s own blood ran cold, and he looked away from her. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Draco held up a hand to stop her—he couldn’t bear to hear her explanations.

“You have a daughter,” the Healer said quietly after a moment of silence. It was Scorpius, though, that reached out to take the bundle of cloth she offered.

“Lyra,” Draco said, his voice hollow. “Her name is Lyra.” He kept his eyes averted, not sure he wanted to look at her. Until this morning, he had wanted nothing in the world more than the little girl in his son’s arms, but he had never anticipated losing Yvette at the same time.

Scorpius’s cry of surprise interrupted Draco’s thoughts. “Look, Dad!” he said with a sad smile. “She has Mum’s eyes!”

At that, Draco couldn’t help but turn to look. Scorpius was right. And in that moment, as he saw that his daughter was the most beautiful baby ever to grace the planet, Draco was lost.

***

“I’m too old for all this attention,” Ginny said as she sank into her favorite armchair in the sitting room—the one by the window, with a view of the garden. “I swear I must have shaken hands with every witch and wizard in England!”

“Oh, no!” Ellen said, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I think you must have missed three or four!”

Laughing, Ginny threw a small decorative pillow at her youngest granddaughter. “Fine,” she said. “Maybe there weren’t quite that many people there, but there certainly were a good many.”

“A very good many,” Ellen said, sobering. “I was happy to see so many there.”

Ginny nodded. Harry’s funeral had been even better attended than Albus Dumbledore’s had been. “Somehow, I didn’t expect such a crowd, not after all this time.”

Ellen took Ginny’s hand and squeezed it. “He’s not likely to be forgotten.”

“I guess not,” Ginny said quietly. “In any event, I was glad that so many people came, for his sake, even if it meant that I had to talk to every last one of them.”

“You seem to have handled it reasonably well,” Ellen said. “Better than Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, at any rate. They looked really old and tired.”

Ginny thought about her brother and sister-in-law. They were both nearing their ninetieth birthdays, so it was no surprise that they looked old, but they seemed to have aged thirty years in the past week. It had always bothered Ginny that her husband had been closer to Ron and Hermione than he had been to her, but now it was almost a relief. The two of them seemed lost, as if they didn’t know how to face life without their best friend.

“They are old and tired,” Ginny said with a rueful smile. “And so am I.”

“But you’ll make it.”

“I will,” Ginny said, “but it won’t be easy.” She looked around at the house she had shared with Harry for more than sixty-five years and sighed. After a few moments, she said simply, “I miss him.”

“Of course you do,” Ellen answered. “We all do.”

“It’s funny,” Ginny mused. “He used to drive me crazy. I’d always be tripping over the clothes he left on the floor, or his broom, or some odd thing he brought home from work, but I still look out for them, even though I know they won’t be there anymore.”

“I could find some stuff to leave around the house if it really bothers you so much!” Ellen joked.

“No, no, no!” Ginny said, laughing. “I’m rather happy to be rid of that one thing. It’s strange, though. The house seems so empty without him.”

“About that,” Ellen began. “I thought I might come live here with you, if you’ll have me.”

“What about your flat?” Ginny asked. “You were so excited to have a place of your own when you moved in there.”

Ellen shrugged. “It’s too quiet most of the time. It would be nice to have some company, and not have to do all the chores on my own.”

“The truth comes out!” Ginny said, smiling. “Well, if you are going to live here, you’ll still need to earn your keep, and you can start by making us a pot of tea.”

***

The library was the last straw.

Draco had put up with many things since his grandson Julius’s birth. He had watched Scorpius spoil the boy, while Hilda, Scorpius’s rather cold German wife, simply ignored him. The combination had rendered Julius entirely undisciplinable—every time Draco tried, he would be undermined by one parent or the other. As a result, Julius had always been rather wild. But until he came home with his future wife, Draco had no idea just how much damage Julius could do.

Draco had nearly dismissed Justine at first. With her bleached blonde hair, makeup that looked as if it had been applied with a trowel, and skimpy dress, he assumed at first that she was a prostitute Julius had hired to shock them all—he had pulled stunts like that in the past. But when she began to brazenly appraise the value of the furniture and talk about how she would “rid the Manor of its stuffiness”, he began to worry. When Julius introduced her as his fiancée, Draco had nearly fallen out of his chair. Unfortunately, there had been nothing Draco could do to convince Julius that Justine was a social climber of the first rank. The wedding that made Justine into the first Muggle-born Malfoy ever had taken place only two months later, amid a blaze of garish fuchsia and teal decorations.

Over the first seven years of her marriage to Julius, Justine had left her mark indelibly on the Manor. Draco, Scorpius, and Hilda had endured Justine’s redecoration of the master suite, the two dining rooms, the drawing room, and the ballroom. After all, each new mistress had a right to redecorate the Manor as she saw fit, and there was little any of them could do. They could only watch as the house’s subtle elegance—a richness without ostentation that hinted at old, old money—and centuries of Malfoy history were dismantled one priceless antique chair at a time. Draco’s only consolation was that he rarely visited the rooms she had violated anymore, so he could more or less feign ignorance. However, that all ended one day, when Justine stepped into the library for the first time.

Malfoy Manor’s library, with its rich woodwork and its smell of leather and old parchment, had always been one of Draco’s favorite rooms in the house. The collection there was the work of many generations, ranging from an early edition of Salazar Slytherin’s Treatife on the Purity of Wyzard Bloode to his own contributions, and it gave him a sense of connection to his ancestors. He spent every morning there, reading the Daily Prophet or a book, or just enjoying the quiet space.

“Can I help you?” Draco asked, looking at Justine over the top of his reading glasses as she stepped into the room and began to look around.

“Oh!” Justine responded, startled. “I didn’t see you there!” She paused to look around some more, and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this wing before,” she said. “Is it all as gloomy as this?”

“Gloomy?” Draco asked, wondering how anyone could find the room gloomy, with its rich woods, polished by the house-elves until they glowed.

“It’s awful!” she said, reaching into her robes. With a single swipe of her wand, Justine banished every book in the room.

Draco looked around the room for a few moments, totally dumbfounded. When Justine summoned her collection of porcelain figurines and began arranging them on the now empty shelves, Draco was finally able to react. He could almost feel the anger spread through his body, making his fingertips tingle. He deliberately left his wand in his robes, afraid of what he would do to Justine if he had it in his hands.

“What do you think you are doing?” Draco asked, his voice as cold and hard as steel.

“This room was in desperate need of cheering up,” Justine said absently, adjusting the angle at which a camel-shaped statuette was placed.

“So you thought you would just banish centuries’ worth of scholarship on a whim? To cheer it up?”

Justine nodded. “This is so much nicer.” She held up a centaur figurine. “Isn’t this lovely? Julius gave it to me during my second year at Hogwarts.”

Ignoring her question, Draco asked, “Where did you banish the books? Could you at least tell me that?” He hoped he could retrieve them somehow.

Justine shrugged her shoulders. “Why? What would anyone want with those dull old things?”

“Do you have any idea of how much history there was in that collection?” Justine gave Draco a blank look in response to his question. “Fine then,” he continued, “Do you at least have any idea of how valuable they were?”

“Valuable?” Justine asked, looking startled. Then her face relaxed. “Oh, that’s rich!” she said with a giggle. “You must be having me on! Who would want to buy them? Nobody has libraries anymore!”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. There would be no point in trying to convince Justine to return the room to its original state; she never listened to a word he said. Draco stood and took one last look around the room before stepping out the door for the last time. He had put up with a lot from Julius and Justine, but destroying the library? That was going too far.

Draco left the Manor the next morning.

Notting Park was one of the Muggle innovations that had been introduced to the wizarding world in the wake of Voldemort’s demise. Shortly after the war, an enterprising wizard had bought four under priced manor houses which had been confiscated from Death Eater families. Taking advantage of most Muggle-born witches’ and wizards’ discomfort with the old-fashioned tradition of moving in with one’s parents, he had converted them into a chain of exclusive retirement homes, complete with all the luxuries that until then were known only to the wealthiest pure-bloods.

None of Notting Park’s amenities were new to Draco, and the thought of living in a house that had belonged to his erstwhile friend Theo Nott’s family irked him. But however a pale imitation of the old Malfoy Manor it might be, it was still one of the best old manor houses in Britain, and its grounds—nestled against the edge of Sherwood Forest—were lovely. The house was comfortable, the food was good, Draco would be more or less left to his own devices, and, best of all, he would never have to step into Malfoy Manor again. It would do.

In My Life

Chapter 1

Ginny rose slowly from her knees and stretched her aching muscles. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to speak to people through the Floo. She usually let Ellen do it for her, but not with this particular errand. If her granddaughter knew what she was up to, she would surely find some way to thwart Ginny’s plans.

Two days earlier, Ellen had come to Ginny with momentous news: she had fallen in love, and was to be married within the month. At first, Ginny had been astonished. At thirty years of age, Ellen had never showed much interest in men. She seemed to be content with her job in the Department of Mysteries, to stay at the Burrow most evenings with a good book or a puzzle or some knitting, and to spend the weekends playing or watching Quidditch with her cousins and their children. As Ellen gushed about her fiancé, however, her previous lack of interest seemed irrelevant, and Ginny hadn’t been able to stop smiling

The next evening, Ellen had brought Dietrich home to meet Ginny. He was polite and friendly, and clearly just as besotted as Ellen was. Ginny could see that they would be happy together. She was content; now all of her grandchildren would be settled. What more could she want?

After Dietrich had left Ellen alone with Ginny, Ellen had told her that Dietrich had agreed to move into the Burrow once they married. Ginny had listened quietly as she explained, “I know you’re still strong and independent, Gran, but nobody your age should live alone. Dietrich understands—his mum took a fall once, and was never the same afterwards. I couldn’t live with myself if something like that happened to you!” Ginny had hugged Ellen then, which successfully distracted the young woman enough that she didn’t realize Ginny had never actually responded.

Ginny had stayed awake most of the night, thinking about Ellen and Dietrich, and about her own marriage to Harry. They had both been very happy for most of their sixty-seven years together, she knew that. But she had never told anyone—who could she tell?—that she had always been a little disappointed by their relationship. She had always felt as if she had to compete for Harry’s attention. Her parents had been wonderful about trying to give the newlyweds privacy, but they were still always there. So were her brothers, and eventually their wives and children, who would drop by at all hours of the day. Harry had found this constant presence comforting, but Ginny had found it distracting and frustrating, and had wished for some time away—just for the two of them.

Ginny had often wondered how different her life would have been if she and Harry hadn’t lived with her family, if they had found a home of their own. She would never know the answer, of course, but she could keep Ellen from wondering the same thing.

When Ginny had woken that morning, she knew what she would do. Living alone wasn’t an option at the age of ninety-three. (She shuddered at the thought of an elderly wizard she had recently read about—he had splinched himself, but it had been days before his children discovered his legs in his drawing room and the rest of him in the bath.) If Ginny were to stay at the Burrow, she would certainly need someone to stay with her—but there really was no reason she had to stay.

As she stood up, Ginny looked around her kitchen. Even at its worst moments, the Burrow had always been full of life, and now it seemed to be alive with memories. Every room she entered, every object she touched, triggered some past moment, be it good or bad, commonplace or consequential. Ginny would find it extremely difficult to leave this place, she knew. But then Ginny thought of her appointment to visit Notting Park the next day, and felt a tingle of excitement. Although she was considering moving there primarily for Ellen’s sake, it could be the kind of adventure she hadn’t experienced in years. What would it be like to live among strangers again? To forge new friendships? She loved her family dearly, but her whole life had revolved around them. What would it be like to have friends just for herself? Perhaps she would find out very soon.

***

“Why do you suppose we’re meeting in the drawing room this morning?”

Draco Malfoy froze at the high-pitched voice. The other residents of Notting Park usually met in the activities room, not the drawing room. Indeed, he was on his way to the drawing room now. There was a particularly comfortable armchair near the floor-to-ceiling windows that had a lovely view of the garden, and he liked to sit there with a book while the others were busy with the day’s planned activities. But upon hearing Fanny Marshall, Draco ducked instead into the first doorway he encountered, to get out of her way as quickly as possible. Just the thought of dealing with her this early in the day made his head spin.

Draco sighed as he realized his mistake. He avoided the library whenever he could. The collection of books, meager as the selection might be, prompted memories of his lost library at Malfoy Manor. Even after nearly ten years at Notting Park, just the thought of it provoked Draco’s ire like nothing else. He was contemplating ways he might revenge himself on Justine (perhaps by torturing her pet pug?) when the door opened behind him. Turning quickly around, he snapped, “What is it?”

Draco gasped in surprise as he saw who had stepped into the room. Roger Campbell, the owner of Notting Park, stood in the doorway, but Draco’s eyes were drawn to the woman standing in front of him. It had been years since he had seen her—probably since the day they had both been called to Hogwarts after their sons had engaged in a particularly nasty duel, which had left one of them wrapped in a cocoon and the other transfigured into a giant carrot. She looked different, of course—her freckles had faded, and only the barest hint of red remained in her hair—but he still recognized Ginny Weasley Potter immediately.

***

“Mrs. Potter! What an honor it is to have you visit us!” The middle-aged man who greeted Ginny at Notting Park was short and portly, with mouse-brown hair, running to gray, and an overly large nose. “Come in, come in! I’m sure you’ll love the house as much as we all do!”

“Good morning, Mr. Campbell. It is a pleasure to meet you as well,” Ginny replied quietly, with a slight smile. She was sure that not every prospective resident received such an effusive welcome from the facility’s owner himself, nor did she think most people would be given an appointment so quickly, considering Notting Park’s long waiting list. Being the widow of the most prominent figure in the wizarding world for the last century had its benefits. At times, she would prefer not to be quite so visible, but if it would help her solve her housing problem quickly, she would use her name to full advantage as often as necessary.

Roger Campbell was full of flattery, both for Notting Park and for Ginny herself, as he showed her around the house. The décor was much more lavish than anything Ginny had ever seen before: carved woodwork, painted ceilings, and antique furniture upholstered in velvet and satin. She would feel like a princess living here, she was sure. The suite that would be hers, if she chose to move into it, contained a bedroom with a large walk-in closet, a sitting room, a “kitchenette” that was nearly a complete kitchen, and the largest bathroom she had ever seen—the bathtub itself was probably bigger than the Burrow’s two bathrooms put together.

Once she had seen the suite, Mr. Campbell suggested that they meet with some of the other residents before seeing the common rooms. “Most of them are Muggle-born, you know, since most pure-bloods still stay in their own homes, though we do have a few pure-bloods who live with us for one reason or another. Some just like the company and our activities. There’s something different happening here every day! We have a nice young witch, not too long out of Hogwarts, very efficient and very creative, to plan it all. Why, I think today she’s planned an excursion to the seaside to hold a sand castle building contest. Who knows what wild idea she’ll come up with next! She’s delayed their departure a bit so you can meet everyone. I think they’re waiting for us in the drawing room. Of course, not everyone will be there. The activities are all entirely optional, and some of the residents tend not to participate—loners, you know. But that’s all well and good, too. It takes all kinds!”

Ginny gazed wide-eyed at Mr. Campbell, amazed by the speed of his monologue. She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, but luckily she didn’t have to. “Ah, here we are!” he said, opening a door and ushering her inside. “Good morning, all! I’ve brought a very special visitor to meet you this morning!”

Ginny was startled by a squeal from her left. “Ooooh! Ginny Potter!” A woman in bright pink robes flung herself in Ginny’s direction. “How exciting! I remember you from Hogwarts, of course, though I was in Hufflepuff and four years younger than you, so you probably don’t remember me. Are you going to come live with us? How much fun we’ll have if you do! I’m Fanny Marshall by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

Ginny was somewhat taken aback, but managed to shake the woman’s hand with at least a little composure. She turned to the others with some trepidation. Would they be as overbearingly welcoming as Mr. Campbell and Fanny Marshall were? If so, she might have to rethink her plan to move in.

Ginny’s fears were soon put to rest. The other residents were certainly pleased to meet her, but were more or less able to contain themselves. (Fanny was still bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.) There were even some familiar faces among the group, including Susan Bones, who Ginny remembered from Dumbledore’s Army, and Jimmy Peakes, who had played Quidditch for Gryffindor.

Soon, a woman with a brisk manner and subdued blue robes bustled into the room. She introduced herself with little fanfare as Janet Price, then with a polite, “Pardon me,” she turned to the residents. “Gather round, now, all of you! The Portkeys are set to leave in one minute,” she said. The residents obeyed immediately, reaching to touch either the empty nail polish bottle or the battered cardboard box Janet proffered. In another minute, they disappeared, leaving Ginny alone with Mr. Campbell and a welcome silence.

“Very good,” he said. “Shall we look at the other public rooms, then?” Ginny nodded her assent and followed him into the hallway.

First, he showed her the activity room, which contained several large work tables. The walls were lined with trunks overflowing with objects of every kind—Ginny could see vintage clothing, an egg beater, a beach ball, a collection of quills in various states of disrepair, an hour glass, a rubber chicken, and something that looked suspiciously like one of Fred and George’s old Vanishing Hats, and that was just on one side of the room. “Most of the activities Janet plans happen here,” Mr. Campbell explained. “Unless, of course, they happen somewhere else, like today. Or sometimes everyone goes outside.” He trailed off for a minute, leaving Ginny to wonder if he had as much trouble following his train of thought as she did. “She’s very creative! Janet, I mean. And as you can see, we give her lots to work with!”

The music room held an array of musical instruments, both magical and Muggle, including a splendid grand piano, as well as comfortable seating for spectators. “Feel free to use any of the instruments you like, though do be respectful of others’ practice times. Some of the residents are quite accomplished musically, you know. They will even hold recitals for the rest of us sometimes, and that is truly a treat! Do you play anything, Mrs. Potter?”

“No, I never learned, I’m afraid,” Ginny said, “but I love to listen. Do you think the others would object if I listened to their rehearsals?”

Mr. Campbell looked away shiftily, then answered, “Well, I’m sure I don’t know. You should probably ask them individually.” He coughed awkwardly.

Ginny wondered at his response. Up until now, Mr. Campbell had seemed willing enough to speak for the residents in general, but now he had demurred. Was he thinking of a particular resident that might object? Before she could think more about the subject, however, Mr. Campbell swept her into the hallway, and opened the opposite door.

Ginny stepped into the room and stopped short. It was clearly a library, considering the book-lined shelves, but Ginny’s attention was drawn to the man standing in the middle of the room, who immediately turned to them, saying abruptly, “What do you want?”

He was tall and thin, but leaned heavily on a serpent-headed cane. He was nearly bald, but even without white-blond hair, Ginny recognized his aristocratically pointed nose and chin. “Malfoy!” she said, before she could stop herself.

Mr. Campbell stiffened next to Ginny, and after a moment, said, “Er… Yes. Erm, Mrs. Potter and I were just touring the house, Mr. Malfoy. She is considering taking up Mrs. Scofield’s suite.” Draco’s only response was to look speculatively at Ginny, one eyebrow raised.

“The library here is lovely, is it not, Mr. Malfoy?” Mr. Campbell prompted. “Almost as grand as the one at Hogwarts!”

Draco rolled his eyes, and Ginny hid a smile. She could picture him derisively imitating the other man, as he had done at Hogwarts. Instead, he answered stiffly, “It is adequate, I suppose.” He paused, then added, “But it is not as nearly as similar to Hogwarts’ library as the drawing room can be to a Hogwarts common room.”

“Erm, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Mr. Campbell said nervously, clearly not sure whether Draco was praising Notting Park or insulting it. Ginny was fairly sure the latter was the case, but was slightly confused by Draco’s comparison of the house to Hogwarts.

Draco then turned to Ginny. “I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Potter. I am in a particularly foul mood this morning, and as such, I must beg you to excuse me.” He swept by her, and out into the hallway, but as he passed, she thought she heard him mutter, “The Hufflepuff common room!”

When he had gone, Mr. Campbell showed her the rest of the public rooms, but Ginny was hard pressed to remember them afterwards. She was trying to understand why Draco Malfoy might live at Notting Park, and just how much he might have changed since Hogwarts. After his initial outburst, he had actually been polite.

In My Life

Chapter 2

That afternoon, Draco was surprised by a visit from Scorpius. After enduring his usual bear hug, Draco ushered his son into one of the small sitting rooms and ordered tea.

“What brings you here on a Thursday?” he asked. Scorpius visited every Sunday afternoon without fail, but rarely came any other time.

“I just needed a break from the house,” Scorpius said wearily. “It has been an especially horrid week, and Hilda is away, so I have nobody at all to hold an intelligent conversation with.”

“Ah,” Draco said. He certainly understood. Life with Julius and Justine could be exasperating. But Scorpius usually had his wife to commiserate with him—they were at least in solidarity when it came to their son and daughter-in-law, although they were not particularly close. “Where is Hilda?”

“She and one of her friends from her watercolor class decided to go to the south of France for two weeks to paint,” Scorpius said dryly.

“She paints?” Draco asked.

“She dabbles,” Scorpius said with a shrug. “But she’s never been serious enough about it before to go away. This trip was so spur-of-the-moment that I can’t help but think she was just trying to escape the Manor.”

“Why?” Draco asked, filled with curiosity. “What’s happened to make it so intolerable?”

“Justine has gone on rampage,” Scorpius said, shaking his head in disgust. “She has decreed that the whole house, including our wing, must be kept completely spotless from now on. The poor house-elves have been running themselves ragged, because Justine has been threatening clothes every time she sees even a particle of dust. She hasn’t dared take quite that attitude with Hilda and me yet, but the glare she gave us on Monday when we came into the house from a walk in the gardens practically took the mud off our shoes for us.”

Draco snorted. “The glares are nothing new, but she’s never cared about cleanliness before.”

“Ah, but that’s not all,” Scorpius continued. “The house-elves have also been forbidden to prepare any food that isn’t utterly healthful. For days, we’ve eaten nothing but whole-grain breads, salad, and yogurt. On the rare occasions that we are allowed meat, it is so lean I can barely cut it.”

“Justine has been on a diet?” Draco asked incredulously. “What could have brought this on?”

“Our family has been blessed with glorious news,” Scorpius said dramatically. Draco smirked at his tone, and cocked his head, waiting for the pronouncement. “The Malfoys shall be without an heir no longer, for lo, Justine is with child.”

Draco paused for a moment, startled by the news, then said, “It’s about time! How long have they been married?”

“Seventeen years, I think.”

“If she has made it that long without having children, why do it now?” Draco asked.

“I would guess that before, she didn’t want to ruin her girlish figure,” Scorpius said snidely.

Draco sneered. “She didn’t have a girlish figure even when she was a girl!”

“I’m afraid that’s the only explanation I have, so you’ll have to go on wondering right along with me,” Scorpius said. “But one thing I do know is that the child hasn’t even been born yet, and it is already the most spoiled baby on the planet.”

Draco sighed. “We can only hope that he’ll be as unlike his father as Julius was unlike you.”

Scorpius smiled at the implied compliment. “Thank you, Father.”

Draco was saved from an awkward moment by the house-elf Addie, who entered the room bearing a tray twice as big as she was, loaded with a teapot and cups, finger sandwiches, biscuits, scones, clotted cream, marmalade, and a whole chocolate layer cake.

“Oh, what a glorious feast!” Scorpius said joyfully as he piled his plate with food. Draco watched with amusement, then took a much smaller selection for himself.

After eating happily for a few minutes, Scorpius asked wistfully, “I don’t suppose there would be room at Notting Park for Hilda me, would there?”

“I’m afraid not,” Draco said. “Old Mrs. Scofield died over the weekend, but there was already someone here to look at her suite today. I’m afraid you’re too late. You should have come to visit earlier!”

“Alas!” Scorpius wailed sardonically. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Keep going on as you have been, I imagine,” Draco said with a slight smile at Scorpius’s histrionics. “Justine is bound to calm down a bit once she gets used to being pregnant. Besides, you would never be able to convince Hilda to move in here.”

“You’re right,” Scorpius responded with a dramatic sigh. Between bites of his fifth piece of cake, he asked, “So what’s the new woman like? Silly old biddy like the rest?”

“Perhaps,” Draco answered thoughtfully. “Maybe not exactly like the rest.”

“Oh?” Scorpius prompted.

“I don’t know,” Draco said reluctantly. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why she might want to live here. She has a home of her own and plenty of family to take care of her, and she didn’t seem to be in it for the Hogwarts nostalgia. Maybe she’ll turn out to be interesting after all.”

Scorpius eyed his father thoughtfully. “And who, pray tell, is this fascinating creature?” he asked.

Draco smirked. “The mother of one of your favorite people in the world,” he said as evenly as he could.

“You know very well that Lyra is my favorite person in the world,” Scorpius scolded, “and it certainly cannot be her mother, as interesting as you might find her, so you must be kidding me.” Draco only raised an eyebrow in response. “Now who might it be?” he continued thoughtfully. Scorpius threw out several names, and Draco became more and more amused, just as his son became more and more frustrated. “Fine,” Scorpius spat out finally. “Whose mother is she?”

“Your old school chum Albus Potter’s,” Draco said with a slightly wider smirk.

“That prissy little tosser!” Scorpius exclaimed. “What a teachers’ pet he was! Always trying to get me into trouble,” he grumbled.

“You managed to get yourself into trouble often enough without him, if I recall correctly,” Draco said with a smile.

“That’s true,” Scorpius allowed. “But I would have gotten away with loads more if it weren’t for him. He always seemed to be lurking around the corner, spying on me.” He paused for yet another sandwich, then asked, “So the Potter widow has caught your attention, eh?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Draco responded stiffly. Scorpius was closer to the mark than he would like to admit—he had been thinking about Ginny all afternoon—but he wasn’t about to encourage his son’s speculation.

“Maybe not now,” Scorpius said with a smile, “but I’d wager you’ll be saying something entirely different before long!”

Draco just scowled.

Scorpius looked at his watch and sighed. “Ah well. It has been a pleasant afternoon, but I suppose I must be heading back to Azkaban, I mean Malfoy Manor.” He gestured at the small quantity of food left on the tea tray. “Do you think the house-elves would object too terribly much if I took this with me?”

***

Ginny carefully placed the last biscuit on the baking sheet, then slipped it into the oven. No Potter family gathering was complete without her special ginger biscuits, and today’s party at the Burrow was especially important, because it was to be a celebration of Ellen and Dietrich’s engagement.

Ginny was pleased that the kitchenette in her new suite had a large oven, so she would be able to continue baking once she moved to Notting Park. She knew it was about time she taught the ginger biscuit recipe to one of the younger members of the family, though she still had not made her mind up about who should be given the honor. Ellen was the obvious choice, of course, but for some reason, she couldn’t bake to save her life. Ginny didn’t understand it. Ellen was an accomplished potions maker and the two arts weren’t so different, but she didn’t seem to think so. Perhaps Albus’s daughter Belinda would be the best choice. She was always very busy with running her own wizarding law firm, but she understood the importance of family traditions.

Ginny’s thoughts were cut off by a popping sound. She turned around to see that Albus had Apparated into the kitchen.

“Al!” Ginny said, hugging him. She bustled away, pulling a pile of plates out of a cabinet. “What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting you until later. Since you’re here, though, would you mind putting the tables out in the garden? I haven’t had a chance yet and it’s getting late. Though you might want to cast a Freezing Charm on the ground first. It’s been a little muddy.”

“Actually, Mum, I came early because I wanted to talk to you.” Albus’s serious tone stopped Ginny, her hands in the utensil drawer. He stood very stiffly, his hands clenched, and she knew that he was worried about something.

“The tables can wait,” Ginny said gently. “I’m sure Mark will be willing to put them out when he gets here. Why don’t I make some tea? You go ahead and sit down, and I’ll be right there.”

Albus sat in the place that had been his when he was a child, in the middle of the table, facing the oven. Ginny conjured boiling water, then set the teapot and two cups on the table, sitting down across from her son. “Now,” she asked, “what’s the matter?”

“Ellen told me you’re considering moving out of the Burrow and into a retirement home,” Albus said questioningly.

“I’m not considering it,” Ginny began, and she saw Albus’s shoulders sag in relief. She hurried to finish her thought. “I mean that I have quite made up my mind to do it.”

Albus looked alarmed. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am,” Ginny said gravely. “The paperwork is all signed. I’m moving in on Tuesday.”

“Why would you want to go and do something like that, Mum?”

Ginny smiled, and took Albus’s hand. “For the same reason that I encouraged you, James, and Lily to live on your own with your spouses when you married. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Albus nodded reluctantly. “Yes, you were,” he said. “But Ellen and Dietrich could live somewhere else. There’s no need for them to stay here with you.”

“But then I would be here alone, and as Ellen pointed out, that would be a very bad idea at my age. At Notting Hill, there will always be someone around, and even a Healer on call, should I need one. It’s really the best solution.”

“But what will people think of our family?” Albus asked indignantly. “They’ll think we kicked you out of your own home, that none of us were willing to take care of you!”

“Oh, Al,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “You’ve always worried too much about what people think about you, or about the family.”

“But they’re always thinking the worst of us.”

“Yes, they are. That’s part of what comes from having a famous name. People will always talk. But what they say can only hurt you if you let them.”

Albus sighed. “I know, and you’ve been telling me the same thing for years and years, but I can’t help it.”

Ginny squeezed his hand and said, “I know.”

“Won’t you at least come live with me and Melanie?” Albus asked after a moment.

Ginny shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you, especially when you’re so close to retiring. And I am actually looking forward to living at Notting Park. It will be lovely to have house-elves to take care of everything, and I might even make some new friends—there are some people there that I knew from Hogwarts that I would particularly like to reconnect with.” Ginny had been thinking of Susan Bones and Jimmy Peakes, but as she spoke, her mind flitted involuntarily to Draco Malfoy—not for the first time since her visit to Notting Park—and she blushed slightly. She was relieved that Albus didn’t seem to notice.

“I guess nothing I say will convince you, then?” Albus asked dejectedly.

“I’m afraid not,” Ginny answered. “You know perfectly well that it’s almost impossible to dissuade a Weasley once she has set her heart on an adventure!”

Albus smiled, then said, “But you’re too old to be having adventures!”

“Bollocks!” Ginny said, laughing whole-heartedly. “I may be too old to go out chasing dragons, but this will be a sedate sort of adventure, and I hope I am never too old for that!”

In My Life

Chapter 3

On Wednesday, Draco sauntered into the drawing room after breakfast, as usual. When he came to his favorite seat, however, he stopped short—Ginny was sitting there already. He hadn’t even known that she had decided to move in. He just stood where he was, staring at her.

Ginny looked up and saw Draco. Without thinking, he blurted out, “You moved in.”

“As you see,” Ginny said, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Draco continued to stand there, slightly embarrassed. His mind was moving incredibly slowly—or was it racing instead?—so he was having trouble forming a single coherent thought.

After a moment of silence, Ginny frowned slightly. “Are you well? Would you care to sit down, perhaps?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“You’re in my seat,” Draco said accusingly, again without thinking about his words before speaking.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, fixing his most commanding gaze upon the interloper. “I always sit there at this time of day.”

Ginny smiled. “Ah, still the same spoiled brat I knew at Hogwarts!” she said cheerfully. “I was here first, Malfoy, and I have no intention of relinquishing my chair to you, no matter how fiercely you glare at me!”

“And you’re just as stubborn as you were at Hogwarts, I see!”

“Yes, indeed,” Ginny responded placidly, “but I prefer ‘determined’ to ‘stubborn’.” She returned her attention to the knitting in her lap.

Draco sighed. He should go, he knew, and find a place in one of the other rooms, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to walk away.

Ginny looked pointedly at him, then at the chair opposite hers. “See, it’s not so bad,” she said as Draco sank slowly into the seat. “It’s exactly the same as this one.”

“It’s not at all the same!” Draco responded petulantly. “It’s much too soft. I’ll never be able to get back out of it. I’ll be stuck here until the middle of the night when the house-elves come to clean.”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry that you’ll be here quite so long,” Ginny said evenly. “I’ll certainly tell someone to rescue you before I go to bed, at the very latest.”

“And the view’s not nearly as nice,” Draco continued, as if Ginny had not spoken. “From that seat, you can see a bit of the pond, but from here you can only see the forest and the drive.”

Ginny looked out the window as if to confirm his words. “You’re right,” she agreed happily. “Yes, I agree. This is a lovely view.”

Draco couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused by Ginny. No one besides Scorpius dared to tease him the way she was doing, but he had been acting daftly all morning, so he almost felt as if he deserved it. And he was still extremely curious about why she was at Notting Park at all. Testing the waters, Draco asked, “So why aren’t you participating in this morning’s activities like everyone else?”

“As much fun as a Go Fish Tournament sounds, I’m not sure my old heart could handle all the excitement,” Ginny answered.

Her voice was totally even, so it took Draco a moment to recognize her sarcasm, but when he did, he burst into laughter. “Yes,” he said once he had recovered, “you certainly wouldn’t want to keel over on your very first morning here. If you did, you would never discover the true joy that comes with having Fanny Marshall as a housemate.”

Ginny winced, then laughed. “I take it you have met her, then?” Draco asked.

“Yes, I have had that privilege, both the day I toured the house and at breakfast this morning. She seems to be very… enthusiastic.”

“That would be a definite understatement,” Draco said with a grimace.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“No you didn’t,” Draco said evasively. He refused to answer Ginny’s implied question unless she asked outright.

“Ah, I see,” Ginny said with a smile. “I suppose the house-elves bring you a tray because you’re so spoiled that you have to have breakfast in bed every day.”

“I do not!” Draco said indignantly, then immediately regretted it. Well, he might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. “I’ll have you know that I only eat breakfast in bed on the days when my rheumatism is particularly bad. Most days, I am awake for an hour or more before Addie comes with my tray. I just can’t handle some of the residents’ cheerfulness so early in the morning.”

Ginny’s grin widened at his response. “The truth comes out!” she said. “Maybe you aren’t actually spoiled, just condescending!”

“I prefer ‘particular’ to ‘condescending’, thank you very much,” Draco said in his snootiest voice.

Ginny hooted with laughter, and Draco smiled in satisfaction. Maybe—after nearly ten years as an outsider at Notting Park—just maybe he had found someone he could actually talk to.

Draco and Ginny chatted together on and off throughout the morning, speaking of the comforts of Notting Park, a novel both of them had recently read, and the jumble of discordant sound that passed for modern popular music. Draco laughed more often than he had in years—since Lyra had been a young girl, probably.

When it was time for lunch, Ginny stood first, and extended her hand to Draco. “What?” he asked.

“I just thought you would need a hand, what with all of your complaining earlier.”

Draco smirked at her, then stood on his own. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “But I will remember your generosity on the off-chance that you find yourself in that chair in the future.”

“Is that a threat, Malfoy?” Ginny asked, laughing.

“Not at all,” Draco said with a smirk. “Consider it a challenge.” With any luck, he would have Ginny’s company again the next day. Summoning his cane with a flourish, he asked, “Well, are you coming?”

Together, they began the slow walk to the dining room.

***

As Ginny made her way to dinner that evening, she reflected on her first day at Notting Park. She had arrived late the evening before, since Ellen and Dietrich had insisted on taking her out for dinner. They had accompanied her to her new home afterwards, to make sure she settled in properly, but their efforts, while appreciated, were hardly necessary.

Ginny’s suite was even more comfortable than she had anticipated—the kitchenette held a supply of all of her favorite treats, the bed was the softest she had ever slept in, and the luxurious bath had a device that could magically lower her into the water and raise her out when she was finished, so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself. And, best of all, there were house-elves on call at all hours if she should need anything at all.

Before the move, Ginny had been a little worried about whether or not she would get along with the other residents, but they had all made an effort to welcome her at breakfast that morning. Indeed, a few of them had almost been too welcoming, showering her with attention.

Ginny was a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, after having spent her days mostly alone for years. She had slipped away to the drawing room with her knitting for some peace and quiet after breakfast. She had been surprised when Draco approached her, and even more so when he had stayed to talk to her, seemingly willing to leave their past conflict in the past. But surprise soon faded into enjoyment—she had felt almost immediately comfortable in his presence. They hadn’t talked of anything of real consequence, but Draco had displayed a sharp intelligence she hadn’t expected, and a dry sense of humor. Ginny had even used sarcasm for the first time in ages, because she knew instinctively that Draco would appreciate it. She was out of practice, however, because Harry had had absolutely no ability to distinguish between when she was being serious and when she was joking—years of nauseatingly cutesy bric-a-brac and hideously gaudy jewelry fitted with color changing charms she had sarcastically commented on had taught her that much. It felt good to allow herself free rein once again.

Ginny hoped that she could sit next to Draco at dinner that night, but Fanny Marshall had other plans. Having been denied her company most of the day (Ginny had spent a very pleasant afternoon walking in the garden with Susan Bones, who was an avid gardener and knew just about everything about the plants there), Fanny Marshall and one of her friends, who Ginny thought might be called Violet, had decided they wouldn’t allow that to happen at dinner. They were waiting for Ginny at the door to the dining room, and each taking one of her elbows, they steered her towards a chair immediately between their own. Resigned to her fate for the evening, Ginny took her assigned seat.

The interrogation began immediately. Fanny and the other witch wanted to know everything about her, it seemed—her favorite foods and colors, her interests and hobbies, how she had spent her days before moving to Notting Park, what she thought of the current Minister of Magic, whether or not she thought it would rain the next day, and more questions that Ginny couldn’t keep track of. Ginny tried to answer as politely as possible without revealing anything too personal. At one point, while the pair was quizzing her on the names, appearances, and professions of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, Ginny looked up and caught Draco looking at her. He rolled his eyes dramatically and gave her a small smile before turning back to his plate. Somehow, this helped Ginny endure the endless string of questions, especially once the pair started asking her about Harry.

After dessert, the whole group moved into the drawing room. Ginny tried to escape from Fanny and Violet, but they followed her to the chairs in front of the fire to continue their inquisition. In desperation, Ginny resorted to the extremely rude step of opening a book and pretending to read. Finally, the two witches wandered off to join the game of Exploding Snap in one corner of the room.

Once they were gone, Ginny looked around her. In addition to the Exploding Snap players, Draco and Susan were playing a game of wizard’s chess, some of the residents were reading, some were talking quietly with one another, and a few women were knitting. The Wizarding Wireless was tuned to a station that played the old music—music that was popular when she was in school and just after the war ended. Someone yelled, “You’re crazy if you think the Wasps can beat the Magpies without cheating!”

It was exactly like a Hogwarts common room.

Ginny smiled and looked at Draco. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled more widely and opened her book—in earnest this time.

In My Life

Chapter 4

Draco moved as quickly as his bad knee would allow. He was determined to get to the drawing room first, so he could claim the best chair before Ginny. It was a long shot, he knew—he had only made it there first once in the two weeks of their informal competition. Ginny only had to walk from the dining room, while Draco came from his suite, and even in the best of situations, she was able to walk more quickly. But today Draco had taken the extra measure of asking Addie to bring his breakfast tray earlier than usual. Even if he didn’t arrive first, he would still be rewarded with a few extra minutes of Ginny’s company.

Draco was amazed by how attached he had become to Ginny in such a short time, but attached he surely was. When he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her, and he found himself seeking out her company more and more often. When they were together, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. He had never been so fascinated by anyone as he was by her, except for his children when they were small, but that was another kind of fascination altogether. He had not yet examined these feelings beyond acknowledging their existence, and was somewhat reluctant to do so—he wasn’t sure he was ready to enter such uncharted territory yet—though he knew on some level that he would need to do so soon.

His thoughts whirling, it took Draco a few seconds after entering the drawing room to notice that not only had Ginny arrived first, but that she was not alone. A dark-haired young woman sat in the chair he had recently been forced to occupy.

“Come on, Gran,” she was saying. “You don’t need to stay here. Come back home. The Burrow seems so empty without you!”

“You’ll feel differently after the wedding, you know, when Dietrich is there to keep you occupied,” Ginny said with a wink and a smile. “Plus, I rather like it here. Some of the other residents help make up for the lack of your company.” At that moment, she looked up and saw Draco. “Actually, here is one of them now.”

Draco smiled inwardly, but he felt unaccountably nervous as the young woman looked curiously up at him.

“Draco, this is my granddaughter Ellen Potter, soon to be Ellen Schwarz,” Ginny said as Draco approached. “Ellen, this is Draco Malfoy.”

Ellen stood and held her hand out to Draco. He shook it and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Potter.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Malfoy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Draco’s heart leapt, hoping that she had heard about him from her grandmother, as unlikely as that might be. Ellen turned back to Ginny, and said, “Well, I need to get to work. It’s good to see you, Gran. You know you’re welcome at home any time.”

“I know, dear,” Ginny said. “I’ll come help you with the wedding arrangements at least.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Ellen answered. “It’s going to be very simple—just family. There’s no need for you to do anything at all.” Draco shuffled his feet; he felt a little awkward listening to their conversation, but didn’t feel as if he could leave, either.

“But you know I want to help. How could I not want a part in such a happy event?”

Ellen bent over to hug Ginny, then said, “All right. You can help a little. But no standing on chairs to arrange the fairy lights, like you did before Mark’s wedding!”

Ginny laughed. “I promise, but only because I don’t think I could climb onto the chair anymore!”

Ellen shook her head in mock exasperation, then, after making plans for the next day, left with a quick “Goodbye”. Ginny smiled after her. She looked happier than Draco had ever seen her.

Sitting in the chair Ellen had abandoned, Draco said cautiously, “I’m sorry I intruded on your time with your granddaughter.”

Ginny turned back to Draco, surprised. “Oh, no! You didn’t intrude at all. Actually, I’m happy that you two were able to meet each other.”

Draco wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Ginny’s comment, so he changed the subject. “When is her wedding?”

“On Saturday,” Ginny answered. After a pause, she continued, “That’s why I moved here, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Draco said with surprise. He had been wondering why Ginny would choose to live at Notting Park ever since she first visited, but had not felt comfortable enough to ask. “What would that have to do with anything?”

“I could have stayed at the Burrow with Ellen and Dietrich. They expected me to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even if it is tradition.” Ginny paused. “Before Harry and I moved in with my parents, I never had any idea of how hard it would be, how little time we would have as a couple. Do you know what I mean?”

Draco shook his head. “My parents moved abroad after the war. Even after Potter’s testimony, people were still too suspicious of my father for life to be comfortable for him here. So as soon as I married and was able to inherit, they left. Yvette and I had the Manor to ourselves from the beginning.”

Ginny nodded. “Well, it was hard,” she said quietly. “I agreed to it for Harry’s sake, but always regretted it afterwards. My parents tried to give us space and time to ourselves, but it was never enough. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not Ellen.”

Draco sat quietly, watching Ginny, who seemed to be lost in her thoughts; he didn’t want to disturb her.

“Ellen is… special,” Ginny continued. “She’s like another daughter to me, but more so. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but there it is. I suppose it’s because she was so young when her parents died—she was the only one of the children too young to remember them at all—that I always wanted to make it up to her.”

“What happened?” Draco prompted. He vaguely remembered that one of the Potters’ children had died—the story had been all over the Daily Prophet at the time, of course—but it had been a long time ago, and he had forgotten the details.

Ginny sighed. “There’s not much to say,” she said. “James and Karen—my son and his wife—were Aurors, and they were on a raid that went bad. They both died, along with four others.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said with a bit of a shudder. He couldn’t imagine having to bury Scorpius or Lyra, and was grateful they had chosen relatively safe careers.

“Thank you. It was a horrible time, and sometimes I think the children were the only thing that saved my sanity. They came to live with us, and I had to be strong for their sakes.”

Draco nodded. “I went through something similar when Yvette died. My daughter Lyra is special to me, too.”

Ginny paused. “I knew your wife,” she said after a moment. Draco froze. “We worked together for a number of charities. She was a good, kind person. I liked her very much.” Draco released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “You must miss her.”

“Yes, I suppose, though not as much as I did at first,” Draco answered. “It has been a very long time.”

“Grief does tend to fade with time, doesn’t it?” Ginny asked quietly.

“And the guilt that goes with it,” Draco said. Their eyes locked for a minute, understanding passing between them, before Ginny tore her gaze away.

“Anyway,” Ginny said abruptly, “I couldn’t stay with Ellen and Dietrich, and I couldn’t possibly ask Ellen to leave the Burrow. This seemed like an ideal solution. Ellen and Dietrich will have a home of their own, and I am happier here than I ever expected.” She smiled at Draco, and warmth seemed to seep through him.

“What is Dietrich like?” Draco asked, shifting the conversation so he wouldn’t have to think too hard about how it was making him feel. “Is he one of the Düsseldorf Schwarzes?”

“I’m not absolutely sure, but his name is Schwarz and he is from Düsseldorf, so I would guess so. Why?”

“My mother was a Black, and I believe we are distantly related to them. I’ve heard they have a reputation for stuffiness.”

Ginny laughed. “Well, he does seem to be very serious about his work, but from what Ellen has told me, he has an adventurous side as well. He builds his own broomsticks and races them—it drives her mad with worry. I’ve only met him a few times, though, so I don’t know him well enough to be sure.”

“What?” Draco asked with disbelief. “You have only met him a few times, and you’re going to give him your house?”

“Not just him, him and Ellen,” Ginny said calmly.

“But…” Draco sputtered. “What do you know about his character? His family? His credit history? You need to investigate him properly!”

“I’ve seen the two of them together, Draco. That’s all the investigation I need.”

“He could be using her!” he said, thinking of Justine.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Ginny said. “And more to the point, I’m sure that Ellen is head-over-heels in love with him, and he will make her deliriously happy.”

Ginny paused, a faint smile on her face. Draco realized his warnings wouldn’t be heeded, so he remained silent.

“She’s just like her father. James was just the same way with Karen. He was such a conscientious Auror, determined to follow in Harry’s footsteps and be the best of his generation. He never went on dates, and hardly ever spent time with his friends, because he was always working. Harry kept trying to introduce him to eligible witches, but even he had given up. James’s work was his life, until Karen was recruited as an Auror Trainee. She was ten years younger than he was, but that didn’t matter in the least. They were married within three months, and I have never seen a couple so happy. Ellen is the same way. She was always serious and thoughtful—she surprised us all by being Sorted into Ravenclaw—until she met Dietrich. I know it doesn’t follow logic, but sometimes you need to follow your heart instead. I know they will be happy together, and that’s enough for me.”

Draco considered her words silently. Justine wasn’t the only Malfoy-by-marriage that he had worried about. He hadn’t approved of Lyra’s husband at first. Daniel Harris was big, burly, and loud. He was only half-blooded, and worked as a Floo Network repairman. Worst of all, he was Australian! But he treated Lyra like a princess, and her face lit up in his company. Draco had eventually relented, but only after conducting an extremely thorough investigation.

“I’m sorry for trying to interfere in your affairs,” Draco began after a long pause. “My grandson Julius married a fortune hunter, so I am particularly sensitive to the possibility. I do know that not everyone is like that.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ginny said with a mischievous smile. “You’re always welcome to offer your opinion, even if I choose not to listen to it.”

Draco chuckled, then said, “I wish Julius had listened to my opinion, but he never has.” He sighed. “His wife is the reason I am here.”

“How so?” Ginny asked, her hands pausing on her knitting in anticipation. “I’ve been wondering what would bring you here.”

“Justine, Julius’s wife, is Muggle-born, which wouldn’t bother me so much…” He paused, as Ginny was looking at him with a particularly piercing gaze. “All right, it did bother me, but not as much as it would have seventy years ago. Is that sufficiently honest?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Ginny nodded. “Yes, I believe so. You may proceed.”

“Why thank you, your highness,” Draco said dryly. “My objection is that she was not raised with a proper sense of our history. She does not understand that the Malfoys have been among the most powerful wizarding families ever since we came to Britain with William the Conqueror, and that our history demands a great amount of respect and responsibility. She only understands how much money we have. That might not be such a problem, though, if she had any semblance of taste.”

Ginny laughed loud and hard at this point, stopping Draco’s monologue. “I’m sorry,” Ginny breathed, once she had gained some control. “You should have seen the look on your face! It was all pinched up, and even pointier than usual!” Draco scowled. “Yes! That’s it exactly!” Ginny hooted, falling once again into a fit of giggles.

After quite a while, Ginny calmed down enough that Draco thought it would be safe to continue. “As I was saying,” he said in his most annoyed tone, “Justine has absolutely awful taste, and is not at all shy about imposing that taste on Malfoy Manor. She banished the results of centuries of care and attention, and replaced them with… Oh I can hardly even think of it.”

Draco’s heart rate had increased significantly along with his anger. Ginny reached out and took his hand. “Was it really awful?” she asked soothingly. Draco began to calm down almost immediately, but kept hold of her hand even when his breathing had returned to normal.

“When I moved out, about ten years ago, the Manor was beginning to look like a cheap brothel. It’s probably much worse now, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to go back again to find out.”

Ginny squeezed his hand, but didn’t otherwise respond.

Draco was grateful. What could she say, after all, that wouldn’t make him feel worse?

They sat silently, hand in hand, until Addie came to tell them it was time for lunch.

In My Life

Chapter 5

Ginny sat quietly through lunch, pretending to listen to Fanny Marshall’s enthusiastic retelling of the morning’s trip to a Muggle shopping center. Instead, she contemplated the conversation she had had with Draco.

Ginny and Draco had developed something of a friendship over the past two weeks, competing for the choice chair and conversing easily, but it had always been somewhat superficial. Over the course of one morning, however, Ginny felt as if they had truly become friends in a way they hadn’t been before. It was strange that it had happened so quickly, especially considering how many insults—not to mention hexes—they had exchanged at Hogwarts. But Ginny’s urge to aim Tripping Jinxes at anyone, even Draco Malfoy, had faded long ago.

Ginny had to admit that she had been curious about Draco from the beginning. Ever since her first morning at Notting Park, she had felt drawn to his company. Day after day, she found herself in the drawing room, waiting for him to appear, rather than participating in the activities with the others. Now that she felt even closer to Draco, Ginny knew it would be even harder for her to keep away.

Ginny’s train of thought was interrupted when the lunch plates disappeared with a pop. She set her napkin on the table and prepared to leave. Susan had mentioned earlier that she would be repotting some Bouncing Bulbs in the greenhouse that afternoon, and Ginny thought she might help. It had been a long time since she had gotten her hands dirty. As she stood, she felt Draco’s hand on her arm.

“If you don’t have plans for the afternoon, there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said.

Ginny was intrigued. They had never spent an afternoon together. Draco always disappeared after lunch, and she usually spent the time with Susan, or even occasionally talking about Quidditch with Jimmy Peakes. Did Draco feel the same way as she did about their conversation that morning? Surely Susan would be fine without Ginny’s questionable potting skills. “It wasn’t anything important,” she answered. “What did you want me to see?”

Draco left the dining room, Ginny walking slowly beside him. She was bursting with curiosity and trying very hard to be patient. Knowing Draco, he would probably delay showing her whatever it was if she let her curiosity show, just to torment her.

When Draco stopped at the door to the music room, Ginny suddenly remembered the cryptic warning one of the other residents had given her when she had first arrived at Notting Park. “Whatever you do, keep away from the music room in the afternoons,” she had said with a dramatic shudder. “The music you hear might draw you towards it, but it isn’t worth actually going in.”

Draco closed the door behind him, then turned to Ginny with the most serious look she had had ever seen on his face. “Do you promise not to tell anyone else I allowed you in here today?” Ginny nodded.

“Good,” Draco said, in a satisfied voice. “I’ve worked very hard to keep the rest of them out, and I would hate to think one day of weakness could ruin the reputation I’ve built over the years.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it,” Ginny said, laughing as her mind conjured a picture of a livid Draco, scaring the little old ladies away with a gaze like a Basilisk’s. “But even if I did,” she continued, “who would ever believe me? If the hints I’ve heard are anything to go on, you can be quite fearsome. Why, I believe you even have Mr. Campbell terrified.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco said with a smirk. “He came in here with a prospective new resident once about three years ago, and I managed quite a show. The poor biddy never did move in, and Campbell has been a bit twitchy around me ever since.”

Draco and Ginny smiled at each other for a moment before Draco motioned that Ginny should sit in one of the armchairs, and moved toward the piano. He didn’t start playing right away, but sat staring at his hands as they rested lightly on the keys. After watching him for a while, Ginny noticed his stiff posture and shallow breathing, and she realized that he must be nervous. To lighten the mood, she said, “You don’t have to play anything. After all, it wasn’t my idea that you humiliate yourself like this.”

Draco’s head jerked up. He looked at Ginny angrily, relaxing only when he saw the grin on her face. “You think I’m going to humiliate myself, do you?” he asked.

“Of course!” Ginny answered, her voice teasing. “Why else would you never let other people hear you play?”

“That’s not entirely true. My mother and Yvette used to listen to me all the time, and Scorpius and Lyra still do sometimes. I’m just very particular about my audience.”

“Oh really?” Ginny asked. “Well, my mind is made up. I’m afraid the only way to convince me otherwise will be to actually do it.”

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Draco answered, turning back to the keys and beginning to play.

Ginny immediately knew that her taunting comments had been extremely far from the mark. Draco’s playing was sublime. Although she had never learned to play an instrument, and knew nothing at all about musical theory, she could tell that he had achieved technical perfection. But even more impressively, he played with an intensity that drew her in completely. She could feel his every reaction to the music—although she couldn’t parse his emotions, she could sense them radiating from his body. By the end of the piece, her face was streaked with tears.

Ginny sat perfectly still, staring at Draco. He was staring down at his hands again, his shoulders slumped slightly. He slowly turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers uncertainly. “That was… I don’t even know how to say how wonderful that was,” she said with a shaky smile.

“I didn’t humiliate myself?” Draco asked quietly.

“No, not at all,” Ginny answered, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “You have a hidden talent, it seems.”

“Do you blame me for trying to keep it hidden?”

“It’s too personal to share openly, I think,” Ginny offered tentatively. Draco nodded.

Ginny couldn’t help but wonder why Draco would share his music with her. She wouldn’t ask—not yet, at least. She wasn’t ready to hear his answer, even if he was willing to tell her.

Draco began to play again, and Ginny’s train of thought was lost once more in the music.

When the clock struck four, Draco finally stepped away from the piano. Addie brought a tray to the music room, and Ginny poured the tea, while Draco cut two generous pieces of cake. They were silent for several minutes before Ginny asked, “When did you learn to play?”

“When I was four. My parents saw it as a necessary part of a classical education, along with lessons in Latin, French, fencing, art, and philosophy, in addition to the usual subjects, of course. I learned the mechanics of it fairly quickly, but I didn’t really learn to play—to play the way I just did, that is—until the summer after my fifth year at Hogwarts.” He paused, and Ginny waited, sipping her tea quietly. “That’s when everything started to fall apart. My father was in Azkaban, and I was expected to step into his place in every sense. Playing the piano was the only way I could release the pressure. Some days, I would play eight hours or more.”

Ginny fought tears for the second time that afternoon. She knew what it felt like to be manipulated into Voldemort’s service, but it had merely been a memory of his sixteen-year-old self that had manipulated her. She could only imagine what it must have been like to face the full force of Voldemort at his most powerful. She realized she had never thought about what the Slytherins had endured during the war. It explained why those who had survived had fought so hard to prevent the rise of another Dark Lord afterwards.

Ginny shook herself from her thoughts. “For me, it was Quidditch,” she said. “I’d take my broom out—or one of my brothers’ before I had one of my own—and fly as recklessly as I possibly could. I did it for years, actually, even after the war, especially when one of the children was sick, or when Harry was being particularly bone-headed about something—so fairly often. I only stopped when I realized that I wouldn’t recover quickly anymore if I happened to fall.”

Draco smiled. “I can picture it perfectly—you flying on an old Cleansweep, with its twigs pointing every which way, all that white hair of yours whipping in the wind—all you would need would be a few warts and you would make a Muggle’s perfect portrait of a witch!”

Laughing, Ginny tossed a bit of scone at Draco. “I’m afraid you’re more right than I would like to admit. Ah well, your method of relieving stress might be much more dignified, but I didn’t have the advantages of a classical education, so I had to make do with what I did have.”

They conversed happily for a while until Ginny yawned widely. The day, with all of its revelations, had taken its toll. She excused herself to take a nap before dinner.

***

As Ginny left the music room, Draco sighed. Only that morning, he had been content to leave his feelings about Ginny unexamined, but something in him had shifted. When she held his hand, he didn’t ever want to let go, and he knew he was lost. By the time lunch was over, he would have done anything to keep her with him a little longer, and it had led him to do something he thought he would never willingly do for anyone outside his immediate family.

When Draco played the piano, he laid himself bare for anyone who cared to look, and who knew how to read him. Because of this, he had always been extremely careful about who he played for. He was somewhat astonished that he had let Ginny in, especially after so short an acquaintance. Why did he trust her? He had no idea, really, except he knew he did—that even if he hadn’t played for her today, he would have eventually. It was only a matter of time and acceptance on his part.

Draco suspected that Ginny had only had an inkling of what exactly he had shown her this afternoon. She seemed to understand that his emotions came through the music, but not how to read them. He was certain, at least, that she hadn’t understood the thought that was foremost in his mind as he played—that he was well on his way to falling in love for the first time in his very long life. Now that he had accepted it himself, however, he would have to make her understand—and he would begin tonight.

Summoning his cane, Draco set out for his suite, laying his plans as he walked.

***

Just before she was about to leave her suite to go down to dinner, Ginny was surprised by a knock on her door. This was a very rare event. The residents of Notting Park treated each other’s suites as private retreats, never to be invaded without a proper invitation. She and Susan had exchanged visits, but no one else had knocked on her door—not even nosy Fanny Marshall. Ginny opened the door to find Draco in his crispest dress robes, leaning casually on his cane.

“Draco!” Ginny said with surprise.

“Good evening,” he responded. “I thought I might escort you to dinner.”

Confused and slightly flustered, Ginny said, “Oh! Why… Yes… I mean, that would be lovely. I was just about to go down.”

Draco offered her his free arm, and they walked toward the dining room. Ginny responded absently to Draco’s small talk while trying to process the changes in his behavior. Clearly, the day’s events had had an effect on him, as much as they had on her. This was comforting. She’d be happy to spend more time with him, now that they had truly become friends. But there was something about the attentive way Draco pulled out her chair for her when they reached the dining room, and helped her into it, that made her wonder if maybe he had other intentions entirely. She shook off these disconcerting thoughts, and turned to greet Jimmy Peakes, who had just stepped into the room.

Someone had sent Fanny Marshall a magical version of the Muggle children’s game Chutes and Ladders, which allowed the players to feel the physical effects of climbing, and most importantly, of sliding down the chutes. After dinner, all of the Muggle-born residents congregated in one corner of the drawing room to play the game and to reminisce about their childhoods. Ginny wasn’t interested, having never played the original game as a child, so she took her usual chair near the fire and summoned her knitting. Susan Bones took up their usual place at the chess table, but Draco followed Ginny to the fire instead.

“No chess tonight, Draco?” Susan asked.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m up to it tonight,” he said, speaking to Susan but looking at Ginny. “Do you mind?”

Susan gave Draco a sharp look, then a small smile. “No, I don’t think I mind at all,” she answered, before drifting off to watch the Chutes and Ladders game.

Draco sat down beside Ginny. He was quiet for quite a while. Ginny didn’t break the silence. Why had he changed his usual routine tonight? She tried to focus on her knitting, but kept shooting glances at him. His presence was extremely distracting.

After a while, a Weird Sisters song began to play on the Wireless. Draco cocked his head slightly, then said, “They played this song at the Yule Ball.”

“Yes, I remember,” Ginny said with a wistful smile. “I felt so sophisticated dancing to it, even though Neville stepped on my feet at least five times during the course of the song.”

“Would you care to dance now?” Draco asked, rising to his feet.

“All right,” Ginny said happily.

They didn’t dance so much as sway in place to the music—Draco’s bad knee wouldn’t allow him to move much without his cane, and he seemed reluctant to lean too heavily on Ginny.

Closing her eyes, Ginny could almost picture Hogwarts’ Great Hall, done up in its Yuletide finest, decorated with frost, mistletoe, and ivy. She and Draco never would have danced together at the Yule Ball—they never even would have considered such a thing. Wondering if Draco was thinking the same thing, she opened her eyes. She nearly stopped moving at what she saw.

Draco was watching her so intently that Ginny was surprised she hadn’t felt his gaze. Their eyes locked, and she felt a jolt of excitement. Draco’s eyes were swirling with emotions she couldn’t quite place, but which made her heart speed. She couldn’t look away. When he started tracing small circles on her back with his fingertips, and her breath caught in response, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

When the song ended, Draco stopped moving. Ginny came back to her senses a little. Could Draco feel more than friendship for her? Did she want him to? The thought filled her with both hope and fear. Slightly panicked, she tore her eyes away from Draco’s and extricated herself from his arms. “Thank you for the dance,” she said distractedly, “but I think I had better go to bed now.”

Ginny thought she heard Draco whisper, “Good night,” as she fled the room.

Draco woke up happier than he had been in years. His feelings had crystallized the night before, while he danced with Ginny. He was in love—totally and completely, head-over-heels in love. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life.

The pain of kneeling to use the Floo had been worth it: his plans had worked as well as he had hoped. First, Draco had planned to walk Ginny to dinner, to treat her as if they were on a date. He had arranged for the game to be sent anonymously to Fanny Marshall in order to have Ginny more or less to himself in the evening. He had known Susan would give him the space he needed; she had been the closest person to a friend he had had at Notting Park before Ginny arrived, and he trusted she would understand his motives. Finally, he had Flooed the Wireless station they usually listened to in the evenings to request the Weird Sisters song. After all, what is more romantic than dancing? And it had been romantic.

When they danced, everything else had faded away. All Draco could see was Ginny’s face, her lips, her eyes. All he could feel was her slight form moving with his, her heart beating faster and faster, and the way she trembled in his arms. She felt the same as he did—he was sure of it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

Draco arrived in the drawing room earlier than usual, having rushed through his morning routine. He was triumphant to beat Ginny to it for once, even if a small part of him would have preferred to find her there, waiting for him. He sat down, and settled in to wait, a smug smile on his face.

***

Ginny was thankful that she had made plans with Ellen to go to the Burrow to help with the wedding arrangements that day. She had tossed and turned all night, constantly reliving her dance with Draco, and riding the waves of her conflicted emotions. When she got up, she was still completely unsettled, and wasn’t sure she could face him right away. A day of Ellen’s company and lots of repetitive tasks was exactly what she needed.

Ginny spent most of the morning folding napkins and sorting through her reactions to Draco. On one hand, Ginny had enjoyed their dance more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. The jolt she had felt when she looked into Draco’s eyes was nothing less than amazing—even more amazing than the one she had felt the first time Harry had kissed her—and Draco had inspired it by merely looking at her, looking at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at. Now that she thought about it, Harry had never done that, not even when he proposed. The thought made her shiver, despite the warmth of the kitchen.

She didn’t want to think about Harry right now, but it was unavoidable. Ginny had always thought of Harry as the love of her life, even when she suspected that she wasn’t the love of his. Was she willing to put that idea aside after so many years for the chance of a romance with Draco? Did she even want to? Her heart answered, “Yes!” but her mind urged her not to be hasty. How would her family react? Would they think she was betraying Harry? Would she be?

Ginny’s thoughts were interrupted when Ellen burst into the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that man!” she said, throwing herself into the seat opposite Ginny’s and reaching for a pile of napkins to fold. “I swear, if he kills himself, it will be his problem, not mine!” Ginny had reluctantly agreed not to hang the fairy lights this time, even though she knew all the right branches to use after years and years of experience, so she had relinquished the job to Dietrich. He had decided to do the job on a broomstick, and his tricky maneuvers to get the fairies placed properly had been exasperating Ellen all morning. Ginny had been amused by the way she alternated between hovering and huffing all morning.

Now that Ellen seemed to have settled down a little, Ginny decided to take advantage of her distraction. After a few quiet moments, she asked as casually as she could, “What do you think about people marrying again, after their spouse has died?”

Ellen looked at her intently for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders and saying, “There’s nothing wrong with it, as far as I’m concerned. That’s why marriage vows are only for life, and not for all time. Life’s too uncertain.”

“So if you happen to die before Dietrich, you wouldn’t mind if he remarried?”

“If I were dead, I wouldn’t care, would I?” Ellen asked with a mischievous smile. “But seriously, the principle of it doesn’t bother me. It’s not as if I’m jealous of some possible future spouse when I know I have Dietrich now, and I would rather he be happy than be faithful even unto eternity, or some such rot. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, er,” Ginny said, searching for an excuse. “There are a couple of people at Notting Park considering marrying again, and I’ve been trying to decide what I think about it.”

“I see,” Ellen said, pausing her movements for a moment. “Well, I can’t imagine anyone who would really object to the idea, at least not among our family or my friends.”

The two of them concentrated on folding napkins. After a while, Ellen abruptly said, “Bring him to the wedding.”

“What?” Ginny asked, startled.

“You heard me,” Ellen teased. “I said you should bring him to the wedding.”

“Who?”

“Why, Draco Malfoy, of course,” Ellen said with a half-smile that reminded Ginny startlingly of Draco. “Who else have we been talking about?”

***

Draco fidgeted in his seat. He wished he could enjoy the view, but his mind kept straying to Ginny. She still hadn’t appeared. It was well past her usual time, and he was beginning to worry. Had something happened to her? Had she taken ill? He started pacing around the room, his cane thumping rhythmically against the parquet flooring, becoming more and more agitated as he went.

Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, and his knee was about to give out completely, he called for Addie.

“Sir called for Addie?” the house-elf twittered.

“Yes, Addie. Can you tell me where Mrs. Potter is?” Draco asked. “Is she perhaps in the activity room? Or in her suite?”

“Oh, no, sir!” Addie said, wide-eyed. “Mrs. Potter is gone away today, sir.”

Draco froze at her words. He managed to say, “Thank you, Addie,” and to wait for her to leave, before he began to shake in rage.

How could he have been so stupid? He had waited all this time, and she wasn’t going to come, she had never even planned to come. And she hadn’t even bothered to leave a note for him. She knew he would be waiting for her, as usual, and she had deliberately just let him sit in ignorance and worry. It was clearly a message. He must have been mistaken last night. She didn’t feel the same as he did at all. Why didn’t he notice it before? In retrospect, it was perfectly obvious from the way she fled the room after their dance. She couldn’t even stand to be in his company now. He really was an idiot! He had given her access to the deepest of his emotions, and what did he get for it? Outright rejection. That ought to teach him not to trust anyone again.

Anger coursing through his system, Draco stormed out of the drawing room and into the music room. One of the other residents was there with a young child, probably her grandson, who held a recorder in his hands. They both looked up at him, clearly startled by the way he banged the door.

“Out!” Draco bellowed, and the woman abruptly took the child by the arm, pulling him quickly from the room, his recorder falling to the floor unheeded as they went.

Draco sat down at the piano, and began to play the angriest pieces of music he could think of, trying unsuccessfully to banish any thought of Ginny from his mind.

In My Life

Chapter 7

Ginny returned to Notting Park late that afternoon, utterly calm. Ellen’s tacit approval of a relationship with Draco had helped soothe her doubts. She knew that not all of the family would take the news as well as Ellen had. (Though it apparently hadn’t been news to Ellen.) But having at least one family member’s support—two if she included Dietrich—might make convincing the others easier.

As Ginny had slowly given her heart the freedom to feel what it wanted to feel, she had daydreamed more and more often about Draco’s eyes. The memory of the intense way he had looked at her made her heart race. She wanted that, she had realized. She wanted him to look at her like that all of the time. For that matter, she wanted to be with him all of the time, to talk with him, to listen to him play the piano. She wanted him so badly it took her breath away.

Ginny stepped out of the entry hall fireplace, planning to return to her suite in order to clean up, then to try to find Draco before dinner. She was ready to face him and tell him what she felt. But she stopped short as she noticed Addie in front of her, trembling terribly.

“Addie! What’s the matter? Can I do something to help you?”

“Oh, missus!” Addie said agitatedly. “It’s horrible!”

“What’s horrible?” Ginny asked with concern.

“It’s Master Draco, missus. Addie doesn’t know what to do!”

“Draco?” Ginny asked, her heart sinking. “Is something wrong with him? Where is he?”

“Master is in the music room, missus. Addie hopes missus can help him!”

Ginny practically ran to the music room. She flung the door open, expecting to see Draco lying prone on the floor and in terrible pain, or in a pool of his own blood, or something equally melodramatic. Instead, she found him at the piano, pounding it as if he wanted to beat it to death.

“Draco! What’s wrong?” she cried, rushing to his side.

“Get out!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Ginny asked, stunned by his anger.

“I said, get out. I don’t want to see your face again.”

Ginny had no idea what was wrong with Draco, but his stubborn rejection of her overtures was beginning to get under her skin. She could feel her own ire rising, but did her best to control it. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me an explanation,” she said firmly. “You at least owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Draco continued to bang on the piano, refusing to look Ginny in the eye.

“You do, and I won’t leave until you explain,” Ginny said, her voice hard with determination.

“You left,” Draco said simply.

“What do you mean, I left?” Ginny asked, confused.

Draco stopped playing and turned to look her full in the eyes. She looked right back, eyes blazing. “I offered you everything, and you left.”

“I don’t understand,” Ginny said, losing a little of her anger.

“What’s not to understand? I fell in love with you, and was stupid enough to think you might feel the same way, but then you left. So you can just go away again, and leave me to my misery.” Draco turned away again, and began to play, but this time the melody was melancholy rather than angry.

Ginny’s heart leapt. He loved her! She hadn’t imagined it.

“I love you too, you git!” Ginny said, a wide grin splitting her face.

Draco stopped playing. He sat very still for a few moments, then slowly turned to face Ginny again. “You… You love me?”

Ginny sat down next to Draco on the piano bench, and took his hand in hers. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Then why did you leave?” he asked, staring at their intertwined hands.

“I didn’t leave,” Ginny said with exasperation. “I’m right here.”

“Where were you this morning? I waited for you forever, and you didn’t even leave me a note,” Draco said petulantly.

“I was at the Burrow,” Ginny answered matter-of-factly. “Helping with the wedding arrangements. You were right there when Ellen and I made the plans!”

Draco had the grace to turn pink. “Oh,” he said. “I forgot.”

“Well, in the future, I suggest you try to remember things like that before you throw a tantrum like the spoiled brat you are,” Ginny said, her voice light. “Poor Addie was absolutely terrified.”

Draco grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t just Addie, I’m afraid. I suspect Sophie and her grandson will never come near this room again.”

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. “Poor Sophie. I’ll have to find some way to make it up to her.”

After a moment, Draco said, “I’ll try not to fly off the handle so quickly again.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, with mild surprise that he would make such an offer.

“After all,” he said with a smirk, “we’re likely to have enough fights as it is, with how stubborn you can be.”

Ginny swatted him on the arm. “Determined. Not stubborn,” she admonished.

“Whatever you say,” Draco answered, as he reached up to wipe some soot off of Ginny’s face.

“And you had best remember it,” Ginny said. “If it weren’t for my determination, you would still be sitting here alone.”

“Are you ever wrong?” Draco asked with a sigh.

“It’s been known to happen,” Ginny said with a smile, “but not very often. Get used to it.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” Draco whispered, as he leaned closer to her.

“I like the sound of that,” Ginny replied, before closing the distance between his lips and her own.

***

Draco was lightheaded with giddiness and lack of oxygen. He pulled away from Ginny, but still clutched her hand. He had kissed other women before, of course, but it had never been like this. Never before had he felt as if he was on fire and at the same time serene as the stillest water. But then again, he had never been in love before, either.

Once he had regained his senses somewhat, Draco turned to look at Ginny again. His breath caught in his throat. She looked as dazed as he felt. When she smiled at him, he couldn’t help himself—he kissed her again.

Draco had no idea how long they had sat on the piano bench, snogging like teenagers. They were finally interrupted when Addie appeared with a tray of food.

“Master and Missus is not being at dinner, so Addie is bringing dinner to Master and Missus,” the house-elf said. She arranged the plates of food on a small table in front of one of the sofas, then disappeared with a pop.

“I guess that’s a sign that we should take a break,” Ginny said sheepishly. She stood up, and moved towards the table of food, and Draco followed, grinning widely. He wasn’t hungry, but he figured he would need to eat to keep up his strength if they were to continue later.

They ate in silence, but found excuses to look at each other or touch each other as often as they possibly could. After a while, Ginny said, “Come to Ellen and Dietrich’s wedding with me on Saturday.”

Draco looked at her questioningly. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Ellen said it would just be family. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“She invited you specifically, so you wouldn’t be intruding,” Ginny answered. “Besides, didn’t you say you are related to Dietrich?”

Draco snorted. “If I am, he’s probably my fifth cousin twice removed, or something like that. I can’t imagine they planned to invite such distant relations.”

Ginny turned to face Draco and looked intently at him. “You’re going to be a closer relation soon, though, aren’t you?”

Draco was surprised by her boldness. He had made all sorts of mental plans for slowly courting Ginny. He hoped that she would eventually agree to marry him, but he had thought it would take quite a bit of time to convince her. Her comment suggested otherwise. On the other hand, maybe she meant something else entirely.

Draco cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Is that a proposal, Mrs. Potter?”

Ginny blushed. “No, I’m too old-fashioned for that.” She took a deep breath, then looked Draco in the eyes and said, “But you could consider it a suggestion.”

This time, Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You want me to propose to you?” he asked with disbelief. “Now?”

Ginny looked down at her plate. “We’re not getting any younger, Draco,” she said, then looked him in the eye again. “Who knows how much time we have left? I don’t want to waste a minute.”

Draco looked into Ginny’s eyes. He knew that he wanted the same thing. “It won’t be very romantic,” he said. “I don’t have flowers or a ring or any of that.”

“I don’t need those things,” she said earnestly. “My first proposal had all the trappings of romance, but I never realized until last night that it was missing the most important thing of all.”

“What was that?” Draco asked, holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

“All I need is for you to keep looking at me the way you are now, as if I matter to you more than anyone else.”

“You do,” Draco breathed. His heart raced as he cupped her face in his hand. “Ginevra Weasley Potter, in the short time you have lived here, you have come to mean more to me than any other person in my life has ever meant. I love you more than I thought possible. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes!” Ginny said, and Draco let the rush of happiness sweep over him before kissing her—his new fiancée—as if his life depended on it. Later, as he relived the moment, he realized that maybe it did.

In My Life

Chapter 8

The next afternoon found Draco and Ginny in the music room once more. He was playing light, happy pieces on the piano, while she sat in one of the armchairs, listening, knitting, and thinking.

Ginny was amazed by how quickly her relationship with Draco had progressed. Two days earlier, she had felt as if they had made their first breakthrough in their developing friendship, and now they were engaged. Thinking about it that way made it seem ridiculous, but Ginny had never felt so certain as she did now. She knew in her bones that her marriage to Draco would be the best decision she ever made in her life—an even better choice than her marriage to Harry had been. She had always suspected that Harry hadn’t loved her nearly as much as she loved him, but now she realized that she hadn’t loved him as much as he deserved either. There had been something missing that she hadn’t even known to look for before. The time she had with Draco had certainly been short, but she felt so much more alive now. Her previous life paled in comparison.

Ginny had Flooed to the Burrow that morning to share her news and her sense of giddiness with the only other person she thought would understand. Ellen was predictably thrilled for her, and they had spent a happy half hour talking about their fiancés.

“You’re just like me and Dad,” Ellen had teased, “falling in love at the drop of a hat. We must have inherited it from you.”

Ginny had paused at that. “Hm,” she had said. “You may be right. It was the same way with Harry.”

“Maybe if you had seen Draco first,” Ellen had responded, “you would have fallen in love with him to begin with, and would have married him all those years ago.”

“No,” Ginny had said. “That never could have happened then. We never even could have had a real conversation. We’ve both grown a lot since then. Plus, I think I might have been a little in love with the idea of Harry even before I saw him the first time.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Ellen had said, “but I’m glad you and Draco managed to find each other now.”

Ellen had agreed to let Ginny and Draco announce their engagement at her reception the next day, because it would be easier than Flooing everyone individually. Ginny also hoped that if anyone was unhappy with her choice, they would be less likely to say so for fear of ruining Ellen’s day.

Draco had also Flooed Scorpius and Lyra. He wanted to tell them personally, knowing that after they made the announcement to Ginny’s family, the news would spread immediately. Draco had told her that his children had been happy for them, but Ginny was still nervous. How would they treat her? Would she really be welcome in their family, or would she be another Justine?

Ginny was startled out of her thoughts when the door flew open, banging against the wall beside it. A man stepped into the room, his step light and quick. He looked so much like Draco—though with bluer eyes and more hair—that she knew immediately he must be Scorpius.

Scorpius stopped short when he saw Ginny, then approached her in a slow, deliberate way that reminded Ginny of a cat. “Ah,” he said once he reached her chair. “You must be Mrs. Potter.”

“Please call me Ginny,” she said, extending her hand to shake his. “And you must be Scorpius.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, causing Ginny to blush. “I’m thrilled to finally meet you. Father talks about you continuously.”

“He does?” Ginny asked, surprised.

“Well, in truth, he has only mentioned you a few times, but for him, that’s continuously!”

Ginny laughed. “By those standards, he talks about you continuously as well.”

“But of course!” Scorpius responded. “How could he not talk about someone as splendid as I am?” Ginny laughed. When she finished, Scorpius continued earnestly, “In all seriousness, though, I’m sure you will be a very welcome addition to our family.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said with a warm smile. “I’m glad you aren’t upset.”

“Not at all,” Scorpius responded. “I’m sure you’ll be good for Father.”

Scorpius turned then to Draco, who had risen to his feet. “Congratulations, Father,” he said heartily, engulfing him in a hug. Ginny smiled as Draco patted his son awkwardly on the back, clearly uncomfortable.

Scorpius pulled away, then grinned at Ginny. “Alas,” he said dramatically, “Father has never liked displays of affection.”

“Is that so?” Ginny asked, amused by the way Scorpius teased Draco. “That’s funny. He didn’t seem to mind it so much last night, or this morning, or after lunch either, for that matter.”

Scorpius stared wide-eyed at Ginny for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Why, you old dog!” he said, clapping a red-faced Draco on the back. To Ginny, he added, “Now I know why he likes you so much!”

Draco managed to distract Scorpius by suggesting that they order tea.

“Oh, yes! That sounds heavenly,” Scorpius said. “Justine still has us eating cow food.”

After they were settled around the table, Scorpius told Draco, “I Flooed Lyra after talking to you this morning. She thinks she can make the trip to England in two or three weeks. Do you think you two can wait that long to get married?”

“It will be terribly difficult,” Ginny said, her voice laced with sarcasm, “but I’m sure we’ll endure somehow, won’t we, Draco?”

“If we must,” he replied drily, shaking his head. “The price we pay for our children!”

Scorpius laughed at their exchange. “Oh yes, you’ll be good for each other,” he said. He took a large bite of scone and clotted cream, then added, “I’m afraid that Justine walked in while I was talking to Lyra. She was probably afraid I would spill Floo powder on the rug. Anyway, she heard us talking, so she knows about your engagement already.”

Draco groaned. “What did she say?”

“Oh, I wish you could have seen her face!” Scorpius said. “Her first question was what would happen to her child if the two of you were to reproduce. Would he still inherit, or would your child usurp his rightful place?”

Ginny giggled at the thought of having another child at her age. “Did you set her mind to rest?” she asked.

“I tried,” Scorpius said with a sigh. “But I’m afraid I just made matters worse. She never did listen to me properly, so she might have gotten the impression that you are thirty-nine years old rather than ninety-three.”

“You didn’t!” Draco said.

“It was fully unintentional, I assure you,” Scorpius said in a tone that was anything but reassuring. “On the plus side, she is so mortified at the thought of your marriage that she’s unlikely to tell anyone about it, so she shouldn’t ruin your big announcement tomorrow.”

***

As soon as he and Ginny stepped into the Burrow’s garden, Draco began to regret agreeing to attend Ellen and Dietrich’s wedding. It was immediately clear that he had completely misunderstood Ellen’s comment that “only family” would be attending. Draco had pictured a simple but elegant intimate backyard wedding. He had forgotten that Ellen’s family included four generations of Weasleys, and the yard was teeming with them. As he and Ginny made their way to the tent where the ceremony was to take place, Draco could feel eye on him. He was used to being noticed, but most people were circumspect about watching him. Not so the Weasleys. Conversations stopped mid-sentence, heads turned, and mouths gaped as he passed with Ginny on his arm.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Draco said under his breath.

Ginny squeezed his arm. “They’ll get over it,” she replied quietly. “They’re just surprised. But can you really blame them?”

Draco looked down at Ginny, who was smiling up at him. Only a few weeks earlier she had been nothing more to him than an old school acquaintance, and now he couldn’t imagine his life without her. It even surprised him sometimes. “No,” he said with a smile of his own. “I really can’t.”

The tent was quiet and cool in contrast to the busy, sunlit garden, and Draco sank with relief into his seat in the first row. Ginny disappeared through a flap in the tent to find Ellen for a few private minutes before the ceremony, and Draco took the opportunity to collect himself. He took a few deep breaths and made his face as impassive as he could. When people began to trickle into the tent a few moments later, he was ready for their scrutiny, but it seemed that Ginny had been right. Although Draco could still feel many eyes on him, the glances were much more surreptitious than they had been before. He pored over the program until Ginny returned. She took his hand, and he was surprised by how much her small gesture helped him relax.

The ceremony was much like any other wedding, and as he had only met Ellen once, and had never met Dietrich, Draco wasn’t terribly interested. Ginny, on the other hand, clutched his hand tightly the entire time, and smiled widely through the tears that streamed down her face. Draco hoped that he offered the same comfort to her to her as she had given him earlier. At the end of the ceremony, Draco thought that the enthusiasm with which Dietrich kissed Ellen was somewhat unseemly, but then he glanced at Ginny and thought of their own upcoming wedding, and reconsidered. Relenting, he applauded with the rest of the onlookers.

At dinner, Ginny and Draco were seated at a table with Ellen’s maternal grandparents, Dietrich’s three living grandparents, and his great-grandmother Schwarz. Draco was grateful. None of them had any preconceptions about him, and the conversation was extremely pleasant. He spent most of the meal talking to the ancient Frau Schwarz, who he found was actually his second cousin twice removed. She even remembered meeting Narcissa once, many, many years earlier, when the Blacks had visited Germany. “Solch ein lieblich Kind,” the old woman said nostalgically. “So hübsch mit allem das schönes Goldhaar, und so artig!”

After dinner came the toasts, and after the toasts, Ellen surprised almost everybody in the room by standing to speak. “Dietrich and I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight,” she began. “I cannot express how happy we are that you have been here to share our joy with us. However, our marriage is not the only thing to bring us joy tonight.”

Ellen paused. Draco drew a deep breath and held it. Ginny took his hand beneath the table, and a quick glance at her convinced him that she had done the same.

“It is my great pleasure to announce that our family will soon have another wedding to celebrate.” Draco heard murmurs all around as the crowd tried to guess who Ellen might be talking about. He saw them eying an awkward-looking red-haired young man two tables away, and supposed he must be one of Ellen’s Weasley cousins who was still unmarried.

After a moment, Ellen cut through the chatter, saying firmly and clearly, “I am thrilled that my grandmother Ginny Potter has found love again at the age of ninety-three, and she is to be married within a few weeks to Draco Malfoy.”

Total silence fell among the assembled guests, and Draco gripped Ginny’s hand more tightly. Whether or not Ellen noticed, she turned to Draco and Ginny and raised her glass of champagne.

“To Draco and Ginny!” Ellen said, then drank. One by one, the rest of the guests drank as well.

Draco didn’t have a chance to watch Ellen and Dietrich dance their first dance as a married couple. As soon as Ellen turned away, he and Ginny were deluged with people offering congratulations.

Fleur Weasley was the first to welcome Draco to the family. “Come visit me soon, no?” she offered. “I will tell you everything you need to know about the Weasleys. I was the first to marry into the family, you see, and I have always made sure the new ones understood. There may not be so many of them left now, and even my Bill has been gone these ten years, but I still know them best.” Draco was eagerly accepted her offer. He was sure he could use the advice, especially considering the long line of family members waiting to meet him.

Percy was next, with his wife Audrey. This did not surprise Draco, as he knew Percy reasonably well already; he had worked closely with him when Percy had been head of the Department of International Cooperation and Draco had been working to extend the Malfoys’ overseas holdings.

After Fleur and Percy, none of the others were familiar to Draco, and they seemed to blend together in his mind. Besides Percy, however, neither of Ginny’s two other living brothers approached them, and he remembered meeting Lily Potter Macmillan, but not her brother Albus. These omissions bothered Draco, but he was reluctant to mention them to Ginny. She glowed with happiness as she thanked all of her family for their congratulations, even when they were obviously insincere, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

Finally, the line of well-wishers dwindled away, and Ginny and Draco were more than willing to sit quietly together for a few minutes.

“Thank you for putting up with all that,” Ginny said with a smile.

“For you, anything,” Draco said gallantly, hoping that his smile looked genuine. “Would you care for something to drink, m’lady?”

“I would, indeed” Ginny responded. “I’m parched after all that talking. But I’ll go get the drinks. It will be easier for me to carry them.” Draco would have protested, claiming he could use a simple Hovering Charm, but his knee twinged then, so he let her go.

Draco watched Ginny cross the dance floor with a small smile on his face before he realized he wasn’t alone at the table anymore. Ginny’s brothers had finally decided to approach, sitting down on either side of him, once he was totally alone. Draco gave them credit for the tactic, even as he evaluated his very few exit strategies.

“So,” Charlie said from Draco’s right. “You think you’re going to marry our little sister, do you?”

“Yes,” Draco said evenly, successfully hiding his nerves.

“Do you really think we’re going to let you do that without a fight?” George asked from his left.

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked each brother in the eye before responding. “You both know Ginny,” he said. “Do you really think you have any say in the matter?”

Charlie paused for a moment, before laughing heartily. “You’ll do,” he said, clapping Draco on the shoulder. “That was a much better answer than Harry’s!”

Draco sighed inwardly with relief, but George frowned. “What are you doing, Charlie?” he asked. “We haven’t even threatened the slimy git yet!”

“Don’t you see?” Charlie asked. “We don’t need to. Slimy git or not, he knows exactly what he’s getting into!”

“No threats are necessary, I should think,” Draco said dryly. “I have been on the other end of her Bat-Bogey Hex, you know.” Then, against his own better judgment, he asked, “What did Potter say?”

“Oh, he went on and on about how much he loved her, and how he would never hurt her, and other idealistic rubbish like that,” George said. “It was a total bore, but it was fun to watch him squirm.”

“It was even more fun to hold his promises over his head whenever Ginny got upset—especially when she was pregnant,” Charlie added. “Her emotions went so haywire then that it was child’s play to find her just after she had been crying and then blame Harry for it. Drove him crazy.” He sighed. “I don’t suppose that would work with you though.”

“No,” Draco said. “Considering it has probably been forty years since Ginny has even been capable of bearing children, that’s likely futile.”

“Still, you understand what we mean, right?” George asked.

“Of course!” Draco said. “I have a daughter. The grilling I put her husband through makes this look like a couple of boys shoving each other at recess.”

“The grilling we put Harry though does that as well,” Charlie answered. “Of course, we were all much younger then, and Ginny was much more innocent.”

“Innocent!” George spluttered. “You obviously never saw her wield her wand during the war! She was a force to be reckoned with!”

“She still is,” Draco said with a grin. “But I’m willing to risk it.”

George looked at Draco, then held out his hand. “Yes, I do believe you’ll do,” he said.

***

Ginny walked slowly back to the table where she had left Draco, being careful not to spill any of the crimson punch on her pale blue robes. It was taking much longer than she had expected, as every few paces, someone else would stop to ask her about Draco. How had they met? How long had they been dating? How did he propose? Was he really as rich as they had heard? Ginny was thrilled that everyone seemed to be taking the announcement well, and to be genuinely happy for her, but all of the attention was exhausting. She just wanted to get back to Draco, and be able to sit for a while.

When she caught sight of their table, however, she saw that Draco wasn’t alone, but flanked by George and Charlie. She increased her pace immediately, hoping to quickly undo whatever damage her brothers might have done.

“What do you two think you are doing?” Ginny demanded. “You haven’t been putting Draco through the wringer, have you?”

“Of course not!” Charlie said indignantly.

“Would we ever do such a thing?” George asked with his best look of false innocence.

Ginny gave each of them a hard look, while Draco watched in amusement. George relented first. “All right,” he said guiltily. “We did try to. But we didn’t get very far.”

“No,” Charlie added. “Your fiancé here refused to cooperate. He seemed to think you are more frightening than we are!”

Ginny looked questioningly at Draco. He just shrugged and said, “It’s true.”

“I can’t say I understand what you see in him, Ginny,” Charlie said, “but the bloke sure understands you better than Harry ever did, even after years of marriage!”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have any trouble keeping him in line if you threaten to hex him!” George added.

“Hey!” Draco interjected. “I thought you decided you approved.”

“We do!” George and Charlie said simultaneously. Charlie added, “But we have to find some way to see you squirm!”

Ginny laughed at the slightly pinched look on Draco’s face. “I’m not going to hex you,” she said reassuringly once she had regained her composure, and he relaxed slightly. She had never hexed Harry, as tempted as she had been some times, and she wasn’t likely to start hexing her husband now. “However, I just might hex these two!”

George and Charlie held their hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, we’ll stop,” George said. “Just don’t take out your wand!”

They all laughed then, even Draco. Ginny was wiping the tears from her eyes when she looked up and froze. Albus was standing about four feet from their table, glaring fiercely at her.

****************************

Translation Note: “Solch ein lieblich Kind! So hübsch mit allem das schönes Goldhaar, und so artig!” is a rough translation of “Such a lovely child! So pretty with all that beautiful golden hair, and so well-behaved!” I’m afraid that my German was never very good to begin with, and it has been years and years since I studied it, so I apologize if this translation is totally wrong!

In My Life

Chapter 9

Draco stopped laughing as he felt Ginny tense up. She rose slowly to her feet, and as the men noticed Albus, they followed suit. Draco stood next to her, a comforting hand on the small of her back, while Charlie and George stood slightly behind them.

“Hello, Al,” Ginny said softly. Her voice was even, but Draco could feel her trembling slightly.

“Mother,” he said. Ginny flinched, and Draco wondered if Albus had ever called her anything but “Mum” before.

After a moment, Albus continued, his voice cold and uninflected. “You really are going to do it, aren’t you?”

“Do what?” Ginny asked, even though Draco was sure she knew what he meant.

“You’re going to marry the evil bastard.”

Draco stiffened at the insult, but he forced himself to remain still. Albus was Ginny’s son; this was her battle.

“Albus Severus Potter!” Ginny said angrily. “I thought I raised you better than that! How dare you speak that way about anyone?”

The orchestra had fallen silent and every eye in the tent was on the Potters. Ginny and Albus didn’t seem to notice.

“How dare you disgrace our family by connecting us with scum like the Malfoys?” Albus spat.

“The Malfoys have been just as respectable as the Weasleys and the Potters for seventy years,” Ginny said. “Your insults are out of date and based entirely on your prejudices, as you know very well.”

“I wish Uncle Ron were still alive. He would never have let you go through with this!”

“Ron never had any say in what I did, and he wouldn’t now,” Ginny scoffed. “My life is my own, and I am the only one who has a say in what I do, or who I marry.”

“Apparently that’s true,” Albus said, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. “You’re being totally selfish. You certainly haven’t thought about anyone else these last few weeks!”

“I’ve thought about myself and Draco,” Ginny said, her voice becoming lower but more intense. “We’re the only ones this decision will affect. If you don’t like it, you can just keep out of our way, and it won’t have to bother you!”

“You’re wrong! I might not have to see you together, but everywhere I go, I will have to hear people whispering about you, and even worse, whispering about Dad!”

Ginny paused, and all the anger seemed to seep out of her. “Al,” she said gently, “I had a good life with your father, but he’s dead. My relationship with Draco has nothing to do with Harry, and everything to do with our own happiness.” She took a deep breath, then said, “I hope you’ll be able to understand that someday.”

Albus seemed to deflate somewhat. A woman appeared at his side, smiled apologetically at Ginny, and led Albus away. Ginny turned to Draco, and her face was full of weariness.

“Do you want to go home now?” Draco asked gently. Ginny nodded.

Even as he offered Ginny his arm, Draco gave George and Charlie a hard look. They nodded in return. Somehow, Draco knew that they were as concerned for Ginny as he was. He could trust them to talk to Albus after he and Ginny had gone. Hopefully they would be able to sort things out for Ginny’s sake.

Ginny leaned heavily on Draco as they made their way slowly to the house. Despite the pain in his knee, he didn’t mind.

***

Ginny was grateful for Draco’s hand as she stepped out of the fireplace at Notting Park. It had been a very long, eventful day, and she was a little unsteady on her feet. She turned to smile at him in thanks, but before she could say anything, he reached out to wipe a bit of soot from her cheek. She responded by brushing the Floo powder from the front of his robes. The gestures were so domestic—so intimate—that they made her glow with love.

Ginny smiled at Draco, who still had his hand on her cheek and a concerned look on his face. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll be all right,” Ginny responded, forcing herself to keep smiling.

“That’s not what I asked,” Draco said, frowning.

“I know,” she said, her smile twisting wryly. “But that’s the only answer I can give you right now.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Ginny hoped that Draco would understand that she wasn’t ready to talk about Albus yet, that she needed a little time to react on her own before sharing with him. After a while, Draco nodded and took her hand, saying, “Come with me.”

Ginny followed curiously as Draco led her up the stairs to the second floor and down a long corridor. He held a door open for her, and as soon as she stepped inside, she realized that he had brought her to his suite. She looked around with interest as he led her to a sofa. The suite was much like her own, though it was somewhat larger and decorated in rich blues. The whole room was bursting with books and sheet music, which gave it a warm, lived-in feeling unlike Ginny’s own suite.

Draco, who had been rummaging around in a cabinet, emerged with a bottle and two glasses. He settled himself next to Ginny, poured the amber liquid, and handed her a glass. “Drink this. It will help you feel better.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked, sniffing it gently.

“Muggle brandy,” Draco said, turning a little pink at the admission. “I always have a glass after a bad day.”

Ginny took a sip, and immediately felt warmer. She smiled at Draco, and he smiled back before taking his own sip.

They sat quietly for a long time, each sipping the brandy and lost in their own thoughts. After both of their drinks had been finished for quite some time, Draco broke the silence. “Do you want to postpone our wedding?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Ginny asked, startled. “What would make you think that?”

“I just thought that you might like some extra time to resolve some of the… issues with your family.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything that’s in my power to resolve,” Ginny said sadly.

“Maybe you could talk to him,” Draco suggested.

Ginny shook her head. “Al was always very close to Harry, and I suppose he’s still grieving. He thinks I’m somehow betraying Harry, and that would be very hard for him to forgive.”

There was a long pause, then Draco asked, “Do you want to wait for that?”

Ginny laughed bitterly. “He’s as stubborn as Harry ever was. He might never forgive me. Are you willing to wait that long?”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched. “I’d prefer not to wait quite that long,” he said with amusement, but then he frowned. “I will wait, though, if that’s what you want. I can’t imagine not having Scorpius and Lyra with me that day, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be any easier for you not to have Albus there.”

“I do want Al to be there—of course I do,” Ginny said earnestly. “But I meant what I said to him. All that really matters in our marriage is what makes us happy. I hope that he will come to the wedding, but I’m not going to put our happiness on hold just so he can resolve his own issues. I love you too much to do that.”

“Do you mean it?” Draco asked, his eyes intense with emotion.

“Yes,” Ginny answered simply.

“Good,” he said, and he kissed her so fiercely that she forgot about Albus entirely for several minutes.

When she regained her senses, Ginny knew that she had made the right decision. She hoped Albus would come to accept Draco, but if he didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing. She could never remember ever feeling so alive, and she wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything or anyone. She reached up and touched Draco’s face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” Draco asked, a bemused smile on his face.

“For the brandy, for being so understanding, just for being you, and for loving me, I guess,” she answered.

“You’re welcome,” Draco said. He then smiled mischievously, and asked, “But you do know that I’m just wonderful without even trying, right?”

“Don’t get too big a head,” Ginny said, swatting him lightly on the chest.

“How can I help it when you heap such praise on me?” he asked loftily.

“I don’t know,” Ginny said, laughing. “I guess you’ll have to find a way. Otherwise, I might just stop praising you, and then where would you be?”

“Alone,” Draco said with a sudden frown. Ginny took his hand, mindful of his sudden change of mood. “I have been alone most of my life, and thought I was content, but now I know differently. I couldn’t go back to that life, not now that I have you.”

Ginny squeezed Draco’s hand and said lightly, “Well, I hope you don’t change your mind. I’m afraid that you’re stuck with me now.” She stifled a yawn. “But it is getting late, and I had better get some sleep.”

Draco walked Ginny back to her suite and kissed her goodnight at the threshold. As she slipped into her bedroom, Ginny realized that soon she wouldn’t have to retire to her own suite at all. She fell asleep that night with a wide smile on her face.

***

The next morning, Draco was surprised to arrive in the drawing room before Ginny. He had slept later than he was accustomed. He had also lingered over his breakfast, reading the Daily Prophet carefully. As he had expected, there was a small article about their engagement in the society pages. He was pleased to see that although it detailed the announcement at Ellen and Dietrich’s wedding, the reporter did not mention Ginny’s argument with Albus. The reporter’s name seemed vaguely familiar; Draco was trying to decide if she was one of Ginny’s relatives when he was interrupted by a loud squeal from the doorway.

Fanny Marshall burst into the room, talking extremely quickly. “Oh, Draco!” she said, and he flinched at her familiarity. “Congratulations! What wonderful news! I had no idea until I saw the notice in the papers! I was just telling Ginny here how sly you two have been, keeping your affair so secret!”

Draco looked up to see Ginny following Fanny at a much more sedate pace. She rolled her eyes in Fanny’s direction and shrugged her shoulders. Smiling slightly, Draco turned his attention back to Fanny, who was still gushing.

“You could have blown me over like a feather when I saw it! Who ever would have thought? You two falling in love right here at Notting Park! And right under our noses, with none of us the wiser!” Draco was pretty sure that Susan Bones had known very well what was happening, but he knew better than to try to explain anything to Fanny.

“You must tell me all the details!” Fanny continued. “When will the wedding be? You absolutely must have it here, of course! I would be happy to help with the planning, you know! I’ve planned scads of weddings in my time! Quite an expert I’ve become! I’ll make sure everything is done up right! And Ginny dear, you absolutely must carry orchids. They’re all the rage you know! And you really should wear Wilma Winterboom if you can—her robes are absolutely divine!”

Fanny paused to take a breath, and Ginny took the opportunity to interrupt her. “We haven’t made any plans yet, Fanny,” she said evenly, although Draco could see that she was stiff with frustration. “We’ve only just become engaged. But once we have settled on a date and location and the like, we will certainly let you know if there is anything you can do to help.”

Draco was impressed by Ginny’s speech. She made it sound as if Fanny would be allowed to help without making any promises, and there was no polite way Fanny could respond, especially when Ginny added, “Draco and I need to settle on a date, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss this morning’s tango lessons while we discuss something as boring as that.”

With only a few more comments, Fanny was out the door and on her way to the activity room, where she would undoubtedly brag about the part she was to play in their wedding plans.

Ginny exhaled loudly as she sank into the chair opposite Draco’s. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you are doing this morning?” he asked with amusement.

“No, I should think not,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “I thought I would never get rid of her!”

“I thought you handled her masterfully,” Draco said with a smirk. “She went away relatively quickly, it seemed.”

“Hmph,” Ginny said. “That just shows how much you know. She was waiting for me when I came down to breakfast, and she didn’t stop talking for even a minute. I think she must have just finally run out of steam.”

“Whatever the reason, she’s gone now,” Draco said, taking Ginny’s hand. “We should just enjoy the quiet.”

“I’d like to,” Ginny said. “But as much as I hate to admit it, Fanny does have a point. We should start making some plans.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Draco said with a sigh. He remembered all the details that had gone into planning Lyra’s wedding and shuddered. He would rather climb a mountain the Muggle way, even with his bad knee and no cane, than spend the morning talking about flowers and wizarding fashion.

“You said that Lyra can make it here by next Friday?” Ginny asked. Draco nodded, and she said, “Good. Then how does next Saturday sound?”

“You’ve got a date!” Draco said with a smile. “Where would you like to hold the ceremony?

“I’d prefer not to have it at the Burrow,” Ginny said tentatively.

“Why not?” Draco asked curiously. He had expected that she would want to hold it there.

With a small shrug, Ginny said, “Harry and I got married there. I would rather start out with you somewhere fresh.”

Draco smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re absolutely right. I didn’t marry Yvette at Malfoy Manor, but it is out of the question as well, I’m afraid.” He shuddered. “Justine has had ten years of free rein since I left—I can only imagine what it looks like now!”

Draco thought he noticed Ginny relax a little when he said that, but he wasn’t sure. It would make sense, though. Although the Manor had been his home, most of the witches and wizards who had been alive during the war had trouble thinking of it as anything other than Voldemort’s headquarters.

“I suppose we could look into using Hogwarts,” Ginny suggested, but she was frowning as she said it.

“No,” Draco responded. “There are too many unpleasant associations there.”

“We could have it here,” Ginny said.

“Here?”

Ginny nodded. “The garden is lovely right now, and I bet Susan could make it look even nicer. And the only associations I have here are pleasant ones, related to you.”

“You do know that Fanny will haunt our every step for the next two weeks if we have it here, don’t you?”

“You’re right,” Ginny said with a sigh. “But I can’t think of anywhere else that would work as well.”

“Nor can I,” Draco said slowly.

“That’s decided, then,” Ginny said. “We’ll only invite our families, right? And I suppose we will need to invite the other residents if we’re having it here.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Draco said. “Though with the size of your family, I doubt we’ll notice them at all—even Fanny!”

Ginny swatted Draco on the arm. “Oh, shut up!” she said with a smile. “Well, I guess we’re done with the plans for now. That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

“What?” Draco asked, surprised. “We don’t have to decide on flowers and robes and all that?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t particularly care about the details,” she said, “as long as you’re there.” She paused, then added, “And as long as you say, ‘I do,’ in the right place!”

Draco smiled widely. “I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you!”

In My Life

Chapter 10

Ginny was slightly out of breath as she stepped out of the fireplace and into the Burrow’s kitchen, closely followed by Draco.

“Oh good!” Ellen said with relief. “I was worried that someone else would get here before we had a chance to hide the biscuits.”

Ginny handed a parcel to Ellen, who slipped out of the room. Draco was looking at her in confusion. “Why would you need to hide the biscuits?” he asked.

“If we didn’t hide them, they’d be gone in the first ten minutes, not everyone would get one, and the ones who did would spoil their dinners,” Ginny answered.

“Is your family so lacking in self-control?” Draco asked, an eyebrow raised.

“When it comes to my ginger biscuits, yes they are,” Ginny said matter-of-factly. She gestured to Draco to follow her into the sitting room.

Draco looked around curiously as he followed Ginny. “So where does Ellen hide them?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Ginny said, laughing. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else!”

“Are you implying that I would ruin my dinner?” Draco asked, a look of false offense on his face.

“I’m not implying anything,” Ginny said, taking his hand and leading him to the sofa. “This will be a good place to greet everyone. They’re all sure to come through here once they arrive, and we can sit in between.”

“All fifty thousand of them,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“There aren’t that many of them!” Ginny admonished. “And your family will be here too.”

“We’ll be so far out numbered that we’ll probably disappear in the crowd,” Draco said, pouting.

“It won’t be so bad as all that. Plus,” she added with a grin, “when was the last time Scorpius disappeared into a crowd?”

Draco grunted, which Ginny took to be agreement, but she didn’t have long to savor her victory before people began to arrive.

Percy and Audrey were the first, as usual, followed by Lily and her husband Ian, George and Charlie, and then a string of Ginny’s grandchildren with their spouses and children. Ginny was not so caught up in talking to everyone else, however, that she didn’t notice Albus’s absence. Every time someone entered the room, her eyes would turn hopefully towards the newcomer. She shoved the hurt below the surface, however, determined not to let it ruin her happiness.

After nearly all of Ginny’s relatives had arrived, Scorpius appeared in the most dramatic way possible, sweeping Ginny up in a gigantic hug. After inflicting a somewhat more sedate hug on Draco, he introduced his wife. Hilda greeted Ginny politely but she seemed stiff and uncomfortable amid the bustle of the Burrow. Ginny was intrigued by the pair—she wasn’t sure if she had ever seen such an ill-suited couple. On the other hand, she was sure other people would say the same of her and Draco; maybe what had drawn them together could not readily be seen.

Scorpius was saying to Draco, “Julius and Justine send their apologies. She said she wasn’t feeling well. Luckily, I am well-versed in translating Justine-speak, so I can tell you that she really meant that if she had to make herself agreeable to people she doesn’t think can do anything for her, she would feel ill. You can bet she’ll be feeling better by tomorrow, though—the press will surely be at the wedding, and there’s no way she will let that kind of opportunity pass her by!”

Hilda pursed her lips. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Hilda,” Scorpius sighed. “It’s all true, as you know very well.”

“Perhaps,” Hilda said coldly. “But that is no reason to discuss such things in public.”

Scorpius made a show of looking all around the room. “We’re not in public, my dear. It’s all family here—or at least it will be by tomorrow!” He gave Ginny a brilliant smile.

“Indeed,” a quiet voice said. Ginny turned to see that Lyra and Daniel had arrived as well, but they seemed to be waiting patiently for Scorpius’s dramatics to run their course before approaching Ginny. Lyra was as serene as she had been at lunch that day when Ginny had met her for the first time.

“Your family’s home is wonderfully cozy,” Lyra said with a smile. “It must have been a joy to grow up here.”

“It was,” Ginny answered warmly. “At least, it was when I didn’t have to fight my brothers for the last piece of cake! Would you like a tour?” And with that, the two women disappeared into the kitchen, discussing housekeeping spells as if they had known each other for years.

***

Draco hadn’t been looking forward to the evening at the Burrow. He had been sure he would feel out of place among the Weasleys, even with Lyra and Scorpius there. But he knew how much Ginny had been looking forward to some time with her family before the actual wedding.

Once everyone had arrived, Draco’s bad knee was throbbing in pain from standing up and sitting down so often. Draco followed Scorpius and Daniel out into the garden, where the men seemed to be congregating. As he eased himself into a lawn chair, Dietrich appeared at his side with a drink and struck up a conversation about the Quidditch World Cup. A crowd gathered, and Draco was soon drawn into an argument about England’s chances as opposed to Germany’s. After a while, the talk turned away from sports, and moved on to politics, then to the challenges of fatherhood. Draco noticed that the people sitting near him changed fairly often, but that whoever was there made a point of asking his opinion, if only to tell him exactly why he was wrong. Dietrich made sure he never had to get up for a drink. After a while, Draco realized he was actually enjoying himself.

“I can’t believe it!” Ellen said, storming out of the house. She flopped down in the chair next to Draco’s, and said indignantly, “They kicked me out of my own kitchen!”

“Who did?” Draco asked, concerned. “Do you want me to go have a word with them?”

“You can if you want,” George said with a grin, “but it won’t do any good.” Turning to Ellen, he asked, “What did you botch this time?”

“It wasn’t so bad, really,” Ellen said petulantly. “I only let the sauce boil over.”

“You ruined it, didn’t you?” George asked gleefully.

“Maybe,” she said sheepishly. “But I followed the recipe exactly!”

“I’m sure you did,” Dietrich said soothingly, taking her hand.

“Gran always says cooking is just like brewing potions!” Ellen ranted. “It’s nothing like brewing potions! At least potions stay in the cauldron!”

Draco smiled at the exchange, remembering the one time Yvette had ventured into the kitchen, hoping to impress him with a hand-cooked meal. He had spent the next week soothing both his disappointed wife and a dozen traumatized house-elves.

“There are more important things in life than the ability to cook,” Draco said, and Dietrich nodded in agreement.

“It sure helps, though!” George said.

One of Ginny’s granddaughters announced that dinner was ready. They all sat at one enormous table in the garden. Ginny sat at Draco’s right, Lyra at his left, and Scorpius opposite him. He helped himself to a plate piled high with food, all of which was delicious—including the salvaged sauce. After dinner, nearly everyone made toasts to Draco and Ginny, and to their continued health and happiness. Draco was pleased, and a little surprised, that George even managed to keep his remarks appropriate for the children to hear.

When the speeches were over, one of the children asked plaintively, “Can we have the ginger biscuits now?”

Faces all around the very long table lit up in anticipation. Draco looked at Lyra and Scorpius to see their reactions. Lyra was smiling calmly, as always, but Scorpius’s eyes had gone very wide.

“Mrs. Potter’s ginger biscuits?” Scorpius asked in a strangled whisper.

“Yes,” Draco said. “What do you know of them?”

“Only that they are the best biscuits I have ever tasted in my entire life,” Scorpius said with a happy sigh.

“When did you taste them?” Draco asked curiously, searching his memory for any potential past connection between his son and the Potters.

“At Hogwarts,” Scorpius said. “I managed to… er, acquire a few of them from Albus Potter once. I kept trying after that—who wouldn’t, with the way they tasted?—but I only managed the once.”

“You always gave your mother and me the impression,” Draco said suspiciously, “that Albus Potter tormented you, but never the reverse. Am I to understand that you lied to us?”

Scorpius shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I lied, so much as omitted a few details. Don’t tell me you never did the same thing.”

Draco bristled. Scorpius grinned, but before he could comment, one of Ginny’s granddaughters levitated two of the famous ginger biscuits onto Scorpius’s plate, then two more onto Draco’s own. He paused to watch his son take a bite.

“Ah!” Scorpius said, his eyes rolling in ecstasy. “Just as I remembered—a little bite of heaven!”

Draco took a bite. Scorpius’s comment was not far from hyperbole. In his love-addled state everything about Ginny seemed to be perfect. Why should her biscuits be any different?

***

Ginny was feeling exceptionally content. The evening had gone more smoothly than she had hoped. Draco and his family seemed to have been absorbed into the family circle without any effort, or even prompting, from her. At the moment, Draco was sitting next to her, but in a deep discussion with Percy about international wizarding trade relations. Lyra was talking to Lily, while bouncing Ginny’s youngest great-grandchild on her knee. Hilda and Fleur were flipping through a fashion magazine together. Scorpius and Daniel had disappeared to the orchard with Dietrich, some of her grandsons and great grandchildren, presumably to play Quidditch or race brooms. A casual observer would never be able to guess that this was the first time some of them had met. She was bursting with love for Draco and her family and even for his family. The picture was nearly perfect.

Ginny refused to think about what was not perfect, and turned her attention back to her granddaughter Belinda, with whom she had been discussing the recipe for her ginger biscuits. They spoke of flour and sugar, and traditions, and that one extra ingredient that made the biscuits so special, until Ginny felt Draco nudge her elbow.

Turning to look at him, Ginny saw that Draco wasn’t looking at her at all. His expression was wary, and he seemed to be focused on something near the house. Ginny turned to look in the same direction and gasped.

Albus hovered near the kitchen door, his hand on the knob as if he were thinking about stepping back inside. Ginny didn’t give him the chance. “Al!” she cried, “you came!”

Every eye in the garden turned toward Albus. His eyes widened, and for a moment, Ginny thought he would flee. But as she rose to her feet, she saw his shoulders set—his Gryffindor courage had taken over. She breathed a sigh of relief, and moved as quickly as she could in his direction.

Ginny stopped just short of Albus, and, tears welling in her eyes, she repeated in a quiet voice, “You came.” He looked at her, then over her shoulder, and Ginny felt Draco’s presence behind her, giving her strength.

Albus tore his eyes away from Draco, and he looked at Ginny once more. “I came,” he said awkwardly. “I…” He paused. “Uncle Charlie… Ellen… Melanie…” he said incoherently. “Melanie convinced me.”

“Convinced you of what?” Ginny asked in a whisper, almost afraid to breathe.

“I… I’m sorry, Mum,” Albus said, and tears came to Ginny’s eyes. “I never should have…”

Albus’s words trailed off, but Ginny didn’t need to hear more. She engulfed her son in a hug the likes of which he hadn’t allowed since he first boarded the train for Hogwarts many, many years earlier.

When Ginny finally let go, Albus took a step back, straightening his robes nearly to their usual dignified state. “I hope that you will be very happy together,” he said formally. Taking a deep breath, he held his hand out to Draco. As they shook, he said, “Welcome to the family, Mr. Malfoy. I trust that you will take good care of my mother?”

“It’s Draco,” he said lightly as he pulled his hand away, allowing it to rest possessively on Ginny’s hip. She relaxed into his touch until he spoke again. “And you need not worry about Ginny. George and Charlie have already threatened me sufficiently.”

Ginny swatted Draco on the chest, only causing his grip on her to tighten, and she thought she saw Albus nearly smile.

The three of them talked somewhat awkwardly for a time about inconsequential topics. Draco was careful not to say anything that might even come close to inciting Albus’s anger, for which Ginny was grateful. After a while, Ginny thought Albus was becoming more comfortable with Draco, and his comfort seemed to increase when his wife Melanie approached.

As the sun disappeared behind the trees, Ginny noticed Albus stiffen, and looked over her shoulder to see what had caused it. The Quidditch players were returning from the orchard, filtering through the trees in twos and threes. Among them, she saw, was Scorpius, and Albus’s eyes seemed to be glued to his school rival. Ginny watched as Melanie took Albus’s hand and squeezed it, then deliberately let go. They gave each other a long look, then Melanie nodded, and Albus closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “Excuse me,” he said, and walked away towards Scorpius Malfoy.

Ginny watched her son approach Draco’s. They each spoke a few words to each other, then shook hands. Considering that Albus could hold grudges even longer than Harry ever could, it was something Ginny never thought she would see. She knew it was for her sake. She turned to Melanie, and asked, “You convinced him?”

“Others talked to him as well, but I was the last straw, I think,” Melanie confirmed.

“What did you say?”

Melanie shrugged. “I just asked him what he would have done if you had opposed him marrying me, and he said he would have married me anyway, and probably wouldn’t have spoken to you again. So I asked him to think about why you would be any different, and whether or not he was willing to live with the consequences.”

Ginny gave her usually stuffy daughter-in-law a long, teary look, then said, “Thank you.”

Melanie smiled. “I always appreciated the way you welcomed me into your family. Even though I was Muggle-born, you never said a thing.”

“I never thought anything of that,” Ginny said indignantly.

“Exactly,” Melanie said. “I wanted to return the favor. Plus,” she added with a grin, “Al was being a prat.”

They laughed together, and Ginny felt as if she knew Melanie better than she ever had before. After a moment, Albus returned, still looking a bit stricken that he had called a truce with his childhood enemy.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Al,” Ginny said quietly. “I don’t think you know how much it means to me.”

Albus blushed. “I don’t know if you’ve made plans yet,” he said tentatively, “but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to give you away tomorrow.”

Ginny looked her son in the eye, threw her arms around him, and then the tears she had been holding back ever since he arrived at the Burrow began to fall.

In My Life

Chapter 11

Draco looked around at the crowd of wedding guests milling about the grounds of Notting Park. He had spoken civily to every one of them today, but the effort hadn’t bothered him in the least. Nothing could bother him today. He couldn’t remember ever being as happy as he was now.

Notting Park looked better ever. Susan Bones had made sure that every flower in sight was at its peak today, and the white of the chairs and tents enhanced the natural beauty by contrasting with the dark hues of Sherwood Forest. The ceremony had taken place near the pond, in a spot Ginny had chosen because it was in full view of their favorite chair in the drawing room. (Draco was sure that he would have to be even more conniving than ever to win the right to sit in it now; marriage certainly wouldn’t make Ginny go soft on such an important matter.)

Draco couldn’t help smiling at the thought of the ceremony itself. The image of Ginny walking down the aisle on Albus’s arm—he was as stern and serious as ever, but she had been more radiant than Draco had ever seen her—would stay clear in his consciousness for the rest of his life. And there had never been a kiss in the whole history of the world like the first one they had shared as man and wife—Draco had felt as if time had stopped just for them.

The Notting Park house-elves, led by a teary-eyed Addie, had outdone themselves with the food. Ginny had asked them to prepare tea and cake, hoping it would be easier on them than a full meal, considering the short notice. The elves, however, only seemed to take it as a challenge. The tables were loaded down with a dozen kinds of finger sandwiches and more desserts than Draco could recognize. He had swiped an éclair or a tart each time he and Ginny passed on their way to talk to yet another guest, and he was feeling rather full by now.

Draco was amazed that even the little part of the plans they had dared give to Fanny Marshall were a success. They had asked her to be in charge of the guest book. “We want to be sure to have a record of all of our friends and family who join us,” Ginny had said. “So it is very important to us that you make sure everyone signs the guest book.” Fanny had taken those words to heart. The guest book table was so gaudy that no one could miss seeing it, even if they happened to be blind. George Weasley had been so impressed that he asked Draco if he thought Fanny might be willing to consult with him and his grandson about advertising for Wheezes.

Justine had been on her best behavior, knowing that the whole wizarding world was watching. Her smile seemed fake to Draco, but her lack of sincerity might have been due more to Scorpius’s subtle needling than to the occasion, though. Draco didn’t care, as long as she didn’t insult Ginny or her family, or otherwise make a scene.

Draco and Ginny hadn’t been able to avoid the press, but even that didn’t bother him overly much. The reporter had been young and inexperienced. Ginny had been kind to him, but Draco couldn’t help but be a little impatient.

“And how old are you?” the boy had asked towards the end of the interview. When Ginny answered, he gaped. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “You look so much younger! How do you do it?”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ginny had said, “but we don’t do anything special. At least I don’t. Do you, Draco?”

Draco had raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m completely bald and have more wrinkles than the average prune, and you think I look young?”

The boy had blushed bright red. Without missing a beat, Ginny had winked at Draco and said, “I think you look very young and fit,” causing him to blush himself.

Now, as he watched Ginny talk animatedly with Ellen, Draco noticed that her eyes were softer than usual, her cheeks pinker, and her wrinkles seemed to have faded away. She did look young—if he imagined her with a full head of red hair, she was almost like the girl he had known at Hogwarts. Perhaps he looked the same way. He suddenly understood why—it was happiness, pure and simple.

The sun was beginning to set, and Draco was beginning to tire of the crowd. He wanted Ginny all to himself. He wanted her to direct all of that happiness toward him. He touched her arm, and she stopped talking mid-sentence to look at him. He didn’t say a word, but she seemed to understand.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said to him, then turned back to Ellen. “It’s time we wrapped things up, I think.”

“Go,” Ellen said. “You can talk to me anytime, but not tonight. Not on your wedding night.” She colored a little, which reminded Draco of just how recent her own wedding had been. He then wondered what it was about weddings that caused people to blush so often.

Ginny tossed her bouquet to a crowd of girls, teenagers, and young women who all looked as if they wanted to catch it, but didn’t want other people to think they wanted to. One of Lily’s granddaughters was the lucky winner. Draco watched her as she caught the eye of a young man in the crowd and turned a deep pink.

Draco thought that perhaps there would be another wedding in the family very soon, and then realized that was why everyone seemed to be blushing. Weddings made people think about their own weddings, past or future. He stopped to think about his own first wedding, but it didn’t cause him to blush. Of course, it had been no more than a business transaction—much more elegant than the signing of a usual contract, of course, but nothing more than that emotionally. And yet, Ginny could make him blush like a teenager with a comment, or sometimes even a glance.

Draco looked at Lily’s granddaughter and hoped that when she married, whether it was soon or not, she would feel like he did today. And Draco hoped that when he saw her with her new husband, he would blush, remembering today.

Draco recognized that he was descending into sappiness, something he usually tried to avoid at all costs, but even that didn’t bother him. He turned to Ginny, who also seemed to be gazing sappily at the girl with the bouquet. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly. Ginny nodded, and they began the slow walk back to the house, arm in arm. Ginny waved at everyone they passed, while Draco merely nodded to the people he liked—Lyra and Daniel, Scorpius, George and Charlie, Ellen and Dietrich, Percy.

Their conversation was light as they approached the house. “Are you hungry?” Draco asked. They had planned to have dinner together in the suite that evening.

“A little, but not enough to eat a full meal. Are you?”

“Not at all,” Draco said.

Ginny laughed. “I’m not surprised, considering how often you nicked desserts!”

“You saw?” Draco said, faking disappointment. “And I thought I was being so sneaky!”

“I see everything,” Ginny said ominously. “Just ask Albus and Lily! You’d better get used to it.”

The house seemed cool and quiet after the bustle in the gardens. Ginny and Draco were silent as they made their way to his—their—suite. When they arrived, Ginny kicked off her shoes, then settled herself on the sofa. Draco sat next to her, taking her hand. She turned toward him and smiled brilliantly. “Hello, husband.”

“Hello, wife,” Draco responded. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best!” Ginny said enthusiastically. She paused for a moment, and her expression turned serious. “I feel as if my whole life has been leading towards this—towards you. I’ve never been so happy.”

“I feel the same way,” Draco said with a smile. Then he added contemplatively, “I almost wish we had found each other sooner, though,” he added wistfully, “when we were young, and could have enjoyed a whole lifetime together.”

Ginny cocked her head, then after a moment, she said, “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think I would change anything. After all, that way I would never have all of my wonderful children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and you wouldn’t have Scorpius and Lyra.”

Draco thought about this for a moment. Sure, he and Ginny would undoubtedly have had wonderful children of their own, but Scorpius and Lyra were irreplaceable. Frowning, he said, “I could probably do without Julius, but I see your point.”

Ginny smiled and squeezed Draco’s hand. “We may not have as much time together as we would like, but what’s important is to make the most of the time we have—to make every minute count.”

“Yes, every minute,” Draco said, his voice rough. He pulled Ginny in for a kiss, and it was as powerful as the one they had shared earlier, but more charged with energy than the ethereal kiss in the gardens.

When they pulled away, breathless, Draco said, “I think I know a way to take advantage of the next several hours.” Ginny grinned, and they both stood up and made their way into his—their—bedroom.