If Blaise had not been his closest friend, if he hadn’t stood by Draco through the difficult days after the war when the Ministry was hell bent on destroying everyone who’d been under Voldemort’s influence, the idea of standing up with Ginny Weasley would’ve sent Draco straight for the door. As it happened, however, Blaise was his closest friend, and he had supported Draco through the trials and shame of the early post-war days. It wouldn’t do to repay his friend’s kindness by refusing to be the best man at his wedding. How very inconvenient it was that Blaise’s bride, the soon-to-be-former Luna Lovegood, was an old friend of the ginger-haired tart.

Damn this bloody conscience I’ve acquired! he thought bitterly.

Since physical escape could not be achieved, Draco was certain Blaise would not begrudge him taking full advantage of the open bar; and as soon as he escorted Miss Weasley away from the altar that was where he intended to go. The wedding and reception were both to be held in the Zabinis’ expansive ballroom, so the distance between Draco and alcoholic salvation was blessedly short.

With ease and grace only years of high society functions can bestow, Draco ushered the guests to their seats. He delivered Blaise’s mother to the front row, expertly concealing his surprise at the subtle pinch she gave his bum. As the ceremony drew nigh, Draco took his place next to the groom and attentively watched for the procession to begin.

Music filled the air and a curvy redhead appeared at the other end of the aisle. Mrs. Zabini was quite put out that Luna only wanted one attendant, but the bride had insisted that Ginny was the only close female friend she had and that including anyone else would be superfluous, adding nothing but longevity to the ceremony. Draco tried not to scowl as he watched the lone bridesmaid marched slowly down the aisle, looking lovely in a deep blue taffeta dress and silver heels. As she reached the altar, Ginny returned his stare for an instant before taking her position.

The guests rose as the music changed, signaling the approach of the bride. Luna was radiant in her flowing, silvery-white gown. It was the most conventional look Draco had ever seen on the woman, but there was still a bit of whimsy. Embroidered into her veil were tiny snowflakes, so delicately detailed that one could almost imagine she’d simply appeared out of the snow that had been falling since daybreak.

The ceremony was not long. It was obvious that the bride and groom were deeply in love, and though he was happy for his friend, Draco found himself unable to watch. Uncharitable as it was, Blaise’s felicity only served to remind Draco of his own situation and the bitterness that still lingered from the events of the past. Too soon, the couple was walking away from the celebrant as man and wife, and Draco was offering his arm to his counterpart.

As they reached the end of the aisle, he turned to her with narrow eyes. “Good of you not to run ahead, Ginny.”

Gratified by the pink staining her cheeks and his duty fulfilled, Draco made for the bar.

It was around the time he was nursing his fifth glass of firewhisky that she approached him, sipping her own tumbler of amber liquid.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but you already knew that, or you’d not have asked.”

She gave him a wry grin. “True, but I’ll stick around anyway.”

“Do what you like, Weasley. You always have. Although sticking around is a novel concept for you. Too bad you couldn’t manage it when it counted.”

There it was again, the pink stain. He didn’t enjoy it now. Now it only irritated him more.

Gesturing to where the newlyweds were swaying gently on the dance floor, Draco sneered, “It’s a nice bit of irony, isn’t it? Our best man and maid of honor end up married instead of us.”

“They look very happy together,” Ginny said, staring wistfully at the couple as she swirled her drink. “I’m happy for them.”

Draco downed the remainder of his drink and set the glass down hard.

“Well, yes, Ginny. I’m happy for them, too,” he growled. “That was not really the material point, though, was it? It might’ve been nice if they’d had the chance to be happy for us. As it turned out, I suppose I should be thankful no one else was there to witness my disgrace.”

With only a slight wobble, Draco pushed away from the bar and stalked out the door. He hadn’t gone far when he heard her calling after him.

“Draco!” she called, hurrying as quickly as she could down the snowy steps.

“Go back inside, Ginny, before you fall and break your neck in those heels.”

Inching steadily closer, she asked, “Would you care if I did?”

He rounded on her. “I hardly think you are in a position to question my feelings. In case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t the one who ran out of our wedding as though it was a trip to the gallows!”

“I wasn’t running from you, Draco.”

Snorting, he glared at her. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, love, because I distinctly remember being left in your wake as you bolted out the door. In fact, I’ll give you a demonstration of that right now.” Draco spun on his heel, nearly falling in the process, and headed for the apparition point just beyond the property’s gate.

“Draco, wait!” Ginny yelled, unable to match his pace. He ignored her.

Something hit him hard in the small of his back. As he turned to see what it was, another snowball exploded on his chin.

“What the hell are you doing?” he roared.

“Getting your attention, you prat!” she cried. “Listen to me!”

“No.” The next snowball hit him before the word completely passed his lips. “Damn it, Ginny! Stop that!”

Shaking her head, Ginny scooped up another handful of snow. “Not unless you agree to talk to me.”

“You’re mad,” Draco said with incredulity. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’ve already humiliated me, what more do you want? We’re done.”

He saw it coming this time, and tried to dodge. Losing his footing, he landed on his back in the snow. Gingerly, he climbed to his feet, only to be tackled to the ground again by his newly shoeless ex-fiance.

“This is really getting tiresome, Ginny,” he griped, glaring at the woman splayed across his chest.

“Just listen to me,” she pleaded as she helped him stand.

Crossing his arms, Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “Fine. Talk,” he ground out.

Ginny rubbed her arms to warm them. “I couldn’t go through with it.”

“That was quite clear, even without the snow in my trousers. Thank you.”

She frowned at him. “Shut up, would you? It wasn’t because I didn’t want to marry you. I did.” Her voice lowered to nearly a whisper. “I do still, but I couldn’t elope, Draco. My mother would’ve been heartbroken if I’d gotten married without her there. I would’ve been heartbroken without my family.”

Eyeing her coolly, Draco said, “I was heartbroken, Ginny. You could’ve told me this then. Instead you left me standing there like a fool.”

“I panicked. I know I handled it badly. I wanted to explain, but when I tried to contact you afterward, you wouldn’t see me. Not that I blame you.”

Draco looked at her, shivering in her ruined dress and bare feet with snow clinging to her hair. Her face was sincere, and he wished he could simply wipe away the hurt and resentment he felt, but it wasn’t that simple.

“What is it you want, Ginny?”

She brushed his cheek with her fingers. “I want to know if there’s a chance for us. I want to know if you can forgive me.”

Covering her hand with his, he smiled sadly. “I don’t know, but I’ll think about it.”