First Kiss

A first kiss is something unique, something special. Maybe not the first first kiss, since that inevitably ends up as something awkward and just too real (unless one of the party has an inkling of what to do) and is quickly forgotten so as not to fester in the mind as even more gut-wrenchingly awful than it already was. But perhaps by the second or third time, a first kiss can be something that you can look back on with softness and wonder. A kiss that was not so much an everyday habit as it was somehow like being the first person to set foot on an unexplored continent, unaware and woefully unprepared for whatever the new land had to offer.

For Ginny Weasley, that kiss was her fourth second kiss.

Her first first kiss lived up to all the expectations of an awkward first kiss between two 13 year olds who met up as a means of escaping their respective Yule Ball dates (not that Neville hadn't been a highly pleasant escort, just a highly unpleasant dance partner). The kiss didn't come until a good couple of months into their relationship-of-sorts and ended up being one of the defining reasons that said relationship was cut short despite her proclamation of his post-Quidditch lose sulkiness as the main reason.

Her second first kiss was not nearly as unfortunate, since Dean Thomas happened to be a kisser of some repute with a good deal of experience. This was also why this relationship ended up lasting much longer than the previous one. However, one thing led to another, as it so often does between those who simply don't like one another enough to overlook annoying quirks, and Dean Thomas was soon a thing of the past.

Her third first kiss really was something special. Soft and gentle with barely concealed giddiness (He's really kissing me. It's finally happened, I can't believe it's real!) and fierce and fiery with pent up lust and passion and she remembered looking into sharp green eyes dazedly thinking, Well, third time's the charm.

Her relationship with Harry was a great time of firsts: first love, first relationship measured in years rather than months, first ecstasy, first odd perceptions of time (days seemed to flow by as quickly as seconds in previous lives). She believed it would last forever, or certainly as long as her life fit into the timeline of forever. But life has an odd sort of shimmering quality; one moment everything is complete and happy, the next the floor falls away and what you had believed to be good and true turns ugly and foul.

Not to say that anyone wouldn't be awfully put off when one's fiancée was suddenly suspect to an ancient Wizarding Pureblood marriage law (and Harry really did do a masterful job at not pounding Malfoy to a pulp every time he so much as glanced at Ginny, even if most of the glances had a definite sneering edge to them), but life was funny like that.

Ginny's fourth first kiss was perfunctory, quick, and cold, as are most marriage rite kisses between complete strangers. Ginny thought it fit him perfectly. It wasn't until much later that she finally experienced her first kiss (never mind that it was technically her fourth second one).

Months of quietly snarling at each other from corners of the manor had quickly gotten old and they had discovered that their respective partner made quite a formidable dueling opponent (both with words and wands). Months more of heated debates, uncalled-for insults just to fuel another such debate, confusingly enticing dreams, and unnecessary physical contact via shoving and vicious poking ended with two inches of charged atmosphere between two flushing faces with no ground to fall back on and no choice but to push forward into the new world.

In retrospect, Ginny should have realized that her hope that the fighting would finally cease was a foolish dream, but the thing that really bothered her (or rather should have, as she reminded herself on occasion) was that she had no wish for it to stop, especially if it yielded such interesting results.

She sighed a little too happily and shifted so her head was comfortably pillowed on her husband's chest.

Said husband scowled menacingly at what he could see of her face. "Weasley, get off. I don't want you drooling on me again."

She even more happily completely ignored him and fell asleep shortly afterwards.

-----

First Name Basis

The 1st Annual Weasley-Malfoy Christmas Bonanza (which Weasley insisted on calling it despite Draco's insistence that there wouldn't be another so why bother with the '1st'? and the 'Malfoy' really should come first in the 'Weasley-Malfoy' part despite origin and superior numbers plus the fact that bonanza was a ridiculous word and should be banished from the English language) was going rather well, previous complaints aside.

Weasley had finally stopped worrying about Lovegood's current ongoing labor and unfortunate complications (unfortunate in that they had made Weasley so stressed and anxious earlier that she had nearly had a nervous breakdown but ended up tearing his head off instead) and was now dancing with Potter who kept sending Draco smug glares over her shoulder which Draco quite happily ignored. He had finally shaken off Weasley's dreadful Aunt Muriel, who had taken to following him around and offering suggestions to fix his ghastly complexion, and Weasley's mother was happily overseeing the cooking staff (which was now house elf-free, thanks to Granger's intervention).

Draco sighed in relief and reached for his glass of eggnog, but just as the glass touched his lips, there came a sharp tapping on the window he was sitting next to. Setting the glass down carefully after barely saving his dress robes from being spoiled, he turned to glare at the tawny owl staring haughtily at him from its perch on the ledge.

After taking the scroll and speeding the owl on its way with a treat from a nearby snack tray, he sighed again and unrolled the scroll without looking at the seal. After reading the message, Draco slumped back in his chair and resisted the urge to slap his forehead. So much for a quiet Christmas. It seemed Lovegood had finally managed to give birth to a healthy baby boy.

He briefly considered keeping the news from Weasley then immediately realized that that would be considered suicidal in regards to his long-term survival.

Resignedly, he checked her position on the dance floor then realized she'd disappeared from sight. Potter was now dancing with Granger and looking significantly less smug than earlier as she happily launched into anther boring lecture of some sort. Draco caught sight of a long red-haired ponytail but it only turned out to be Weasley's eldest brother (or at least Draco thought he was the eldest, he could never remember) in deep conversation with Father. The two of them got on surprisingly well since Bill was the only Weasley Father openly approved of (Draco privately thought it was because of his impressive salary...impressive for a Weasley anyway).

Finally he spotted her in the center of a group of red-haired people, flushed with happiness (and probably alcohol) and talking a mile a minute. He was halfway across the room, the letter still held tightly in his hand, when he realized that all of the people standing around Weasley would respond when he said her name (or rather, her previous surname). Therefore, logically (he gulped as his mind finished its natural circuit) he would have to use her first name.

It's not that he didn't know it (he'd have to be a special sort of idiot not to know his own wife's name) or hadn't ever said it aloud when talking about her to other people but he'd never addressed her with it or even spoken it in her presence. He couldn't help but feel like it was something he wouldn't be able to take back, like a filthy insult said in anger and brought up again in a later argument that would make him flinch in guilt and regret. Though, truth be told, in this instance it would probably make him flinch in something else entirely, something which was infinitely more terrifying.

He stood undecided on the outskirts of the room, hoping she would detach herself from the group or some other such miracle until two small children ran giggling past him (one inexplicably with bright turquoise hair), knocking into him and jolting him from his quiet panic.

He mentally shook his head and started walking again. He was being stupid, it was just a name. But he couldn't help feeling that as soon as it left his lips something would irrevocably change, something he couldn't name but was still rather frightened of. When he finally reached the small knot of people he felt like a man about to leap off a building with only a vague reassurance that there was a cushioning charm cast on the ground.

He pushed on valiantly regardless and tried to elbow his way into the circle, but kept getting pushed back by over-exuberantly laughing Weasleys until he'd finally had enough.

"Ginny!" he called loudly. When she turned, he brandished the letter at her and jerked his head to a quieter corner.

"What is it?" she asked after finally getting away from her adoring audience.

"This just came from St. Mungo's," he replied, handing her the scroll. Her face immediately became more ashen and worry blossomed in the ridge between her eyebrows.

As she read, he wondered at the fact that she had yet to comment or even notice his sudden usage of her name and how surprisingly natural it had felt for him to say it. He had a frighteningly vivid vision of crossing a bridge that suddenly went up in flames as soon as he was safely across.

He was jerked abruptly from his train of thought as Weasley let out a shout of happiness and jumped up and down a few times in what Draco could only describe as glee (ridiculously silly and childish glee, at that).

"This is fantastic!" she cried ecstatically (and unnecessarily loudly in Draco's opinion), "I was so worried, I'm so glad she's alright! And a healthy boy, oh they must be so happy!"

"Yes," Draco agreed gravely. "With any luck, he'll grow up to capture a Crumple-Horned Snorkack and be completely incompetent in every subject." She glared and he added generously, "Except Herbology."

She laughed in exasperation then threw her arms around his neck. When his arms wrapped around her waist (purely out of reflex, he reminded himself, after all, she did practically throw herself at him), the frightening feeling coiled in his chest and he found himself tightening his hold to anchor himself against it.

-----

First Realization

Blaise Zabini was not a good person, but there were times when he could be a good friend, against his better judgment. And now, standing outside Ron and Hermione Weasleys' house, he blamed his current odd resignation and even odder predicament on that unfortunate trait. (That, and the fact that Draco and Ginny were both incredibly stubborn, especially in their persistence in ignoring what was directly in front of them.)

So all in all, he was really regretting the decision in seeking out the former Hermione Granger, especially after the expression on her husband's face when he asked to see her. After a long silence (during which Blaise had time to imagine all the nefarious reasons of his visit from Weasley's perspective and be suitably horrified at them), Granger called from inside the house (specifically saying to let whoever it was in or chase them off, but for goodness' sake, close the door) and he was finally led into what passed for the foyer.

"Hermione, can you explain to me what Blaise Zabini is doing in our house?" Weasley asked, managing to sound both disdainful and aghast at once.

"Well, I'd assume it's because you let him in, Ron," she returned, appearing in a doorway, "but it could be that the laws of logic have disappeared since the last time you used them."

She spared her husband one exasperated glance before facing Blaise. "Can I help you with something, Zabini?"

"I hope so, or I really have lost my grasp of sanity." When she simply raised a confused eyebrow, he clarified. "I need to speak with you"—he glanced pointedly at Weasley—"in private."

"Ron, could you go check on the soup?" she asked, not taking her eyes from Blaise.

One quickly interrupted protest later, the two of them sat down by the window of what Blaise supposed was their sitting room.

She fixed him with an unnervingly shrewd look. "Alright, Zabini. Talk."

-----

"So what's this all about, Hermione?" Ginny asked as the two of them were shown to their table.

"Nothing! I just wanted to catch up, that's all. We haven't seen each other for quite some time, have we?" Hermione was never all that great at lying unless someone's life was on the line.

Ginny raised one highly skeptical eyebrow, a trick she had accidentally picked up from Malfoy. "...Unless you consider three days a long time, I'd have to say no."

Hermione blinked once then seemed to gather herself. "Oh, I just meant it felt like a long time, that's all."

Ginny weighed the pros and cons of pursuing the source of Hermione's discomfort, but decided against it. If there was one thing she'd come to understand when dealing with Hermione, it was that it was best to let her get to her point at her own pace.

Ginny sighed and opened her menu. "So how are things? You and Ron still trying for a baby?"

Hermione seemed far too relieved that Ginny had changed the subject. She put on an exasperated smile, which seemed her default expression when talking about Ron. "No, I've managed to convince him otherwise for now. It's just far too soon, especially with how well S.P.E.W. is finally going."

"So you decided to keep the old name?" Ginny succeeded in hiding her smirk with her hand.

"Of course," Hermione asserted. "It's not the name people don't take seriously, as I've told Harry time and again, it's our agenda." She smacked the table with the pad of her finger, louder than Ginny thought was possible, then snapped her head up with what seemed to be sudden inspiration. "Do you know, yesterday a previous enslaver threatened to start an anti-S.P.E.W. Organization and overthrow all of the statutes we've managed to pass, pending or otherwise?"

Ginny frowned. "He can't do that. It's illegal unless you're exhibiting violent methods or something, right?"

"She, it was a she. And no, she can't. It was just a bunch of complete hogwash anyway." She slumped back in her seat disgustedly then seemed to remember something.

Leaning forward with a sheepish smile, she continued, "Sorry, Gin, got carried away. What's new with you?"

-----

Draco raised one eyebrow delicately. "What's new?" he repeated incredulously. "That's what you dragged me out here to ask?"

Blaise silently congratulated himself on not rolling his eyes. "Yes," he said instead, rather patiently. "Unless there was something else you'd rather talk about, it's usually a good way to begin a conversation."

Draco seemed to be contemplating his choice in companionship before giving it up as a lost cause. "Nothing, really," he said, sipping his drink. "The company's doing well, Mother's taking my lack of children as a sign that I don't love her anymore, and Weasley's campaigning to have her picture added in the dictionary under 'ridiculous'."

Blaise, to his own embarrassment, snorted. Draco raised the other eyebrow. "What did she do this time?" Blaise asked.

Draco's eyebrows returned to a more neutral position. "It's just this wedding ring ordeal again."

"What now?"

Draco sighed, a human reaction that only Ginny seemed able to draw from him. "Last night, my mother cornered me after dinner, demanding to know what I'd done to upset 'poor Ginevra' and to fix it right that moment." Blaise gave him a questioning look, so Draco added, "Apparently, she hadn't been wearing her ring all evening. Therefore, we must have gotten into a fight and she'd taken it off in a fit of anger." Blaise hadn't heard him use that particular sarcastic tone since their school days.

Draco's jaw tightened. "Since my mother utterly fails to notice when Weasley and I actually do fight—"

"What, you mean all the time?" Blaise interrupted, only half joking.

"—she likes to make up for it by inventing arguments, which of course we eventually do fight about after she leaves," he finished wearily, completely ignoring Blaise's comment.

"So what did Ginny say this time?"

-----

"What do you mean, this time?" Ginny asked indignantly. "You think I'm being unreasonable?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione answered nervously. When Ginny just continued to gaze steadily at her, she shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe a little," she amended quietly.

"It's the third time something like this has happened," she said quickly over Ginny's spluttering. "Are you sure there's not more to this than you're telling me?"

"What?" asked Ginny angrily. "Why would there be something more? I just forgot to put it back on, Hermione, alright?" She looked down, picking at the tablecloth.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Gin," Hermione said quietly. "It's just...if there's something you wanted to talk about, I'd be glad to help."

Ginny fidgeted a little, looking embarrassed. "No, Hermione, you're right," she sighed, then continued hesitantly. "...Do you remember how I used to complain about wearing the ring before?"

"When you were first married, right. Why?"

"Well, back then it just felt like I was a prisoner," Ginny murmured. "But then if that were the case, Malfoy would be one too. I mean, I've never seen him take it off." She looked up, seemingly to clarify the point.

"Right," Hermione agreed, "but isn't that mainly because of the added protection?"

"It's not that the rings have built-in protection," Ginny said, unconsciously fiddling with her own. "It's just that if one of us is in danger, the other's ring gets warm and acts as a guide for Apparating to the other person."

"That's really impressive magic," Hermione said in considerable awe. "How old did you say these rings were?"

"They've been in the family for generations," Ginny answered, shrugging, "so I guess really old."

Hermione's academic impulses were begging her to find out more, but she wrenched her mind back on track. "So, what was your point then?" she asked.

"Oh," Ginny suddenly looked much more embarrassed. "It's just..." She sighed despondently, then looked up. "Do you promise not to laugh?"

"Of course," Hermione agreed quickly.

"Well, instead of feeling trapped or imprisoned, lately I've felt almost..." she trailed off, looking undecided.

"Protected? Cherished?" Hermione supplied.

Ginny winced at the last suggestion. "I wouldn't go that far," she said, laughing distractedly, "but it's certainly different."

Hermione frowned. "Different in a good way?"

"Yeah," agreed Ginny absently. "Good, but scary."

Hermione waited, but Ginny seemed to be somewhere else. Clearing her throat, she asked, "So, what did you tell Malfoy then?"

-----

"She just said it was getting in her way again," Draco said, looking annoyed.

"How?" Blaise asked, nonplussed. "When she holds her broom? She catches the Snitch in her right hand, yeah?"

"Yes," Draco confirmed. "I don't understand it."

"And she just left it at the pitch?"

"Yes," Draco said agitatedly. "It's not like I expect her to be abducted by dark wizards everyday, but it couldn't hurt to wear it!"

"Did she go back for it?" Blaise asked tentatively. Draco's temper was best left untouched when it came to Ginny.

Draco sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair. "No," he answered moodily. "Even though I said it would make me feel better if she had it on since it was obvious we weren't going to be sleeping in the same bed that night."

-----

"He said that?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"I know! Can you believe it?" snapped Ginny. "It's not like I left it there on purpose and I hadn't even been thinking about sleeping in the guest room until he said that anyway!"

"But Gin," Hermione tried, "that's not all he said." When she simply got a look of confused disgust in response, she said, "Think about it!" in gentle exasperation.

Ginny furrowed her brow in thought for several moments, then hesitantly said, "He said he wanted me to wear it?"

"Exactly!" Hermione cried in triumph, glad she had finally gotten through to her.

Ginny frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Hermione slumped back in her chair. "He said it would make him feel better if you wore it," she explained carefully, "because he thought he wouldn't be with you that night."

"So?"

"So that means he was worried about you, Gin!" Hermione exclaimed, trying not to get frustrated. "He wanted to make sure you were okay. He cares about you!"

Ginny scoffed, though she didn't look entirely convinced. "I think you're reading too much into this, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "Fine, then look at it this way. Did you go back for the ring?"

-----

"You know, I think she might have," Draco said slowly, looking surprised. "She had it on this morning when she came down for breakfast."

"So she actually did what you told her to do?" Blaise asked slyly.

"Yes, she might have," Draco conceded, looking shrewdly at Blaise. "Does it matter?"

Blaise took a bite of his meal to give Draco time to think over it. "Do you think it does?"

"Hardly," Draco said dismissively. "It was just a good suggestion, is all."

"Why did you suggest that then?"

"Well, because—" Draco cut himself off, looking surprised. "Because..."

"...you care about what happens to her?" Blaise asked quietly, not wanting to intrude too much into the thought process.

Draco looked scandalised and just slightly embarrassed. "What are you saying?"

-----

"Just that you might possibly care about him too?" Hermione suggested gently.

Ginny gaped soundlessly for a moment, so Hermione took advantage and plunged on. "I mean, think about it," she said, trying for a logical approach. "It would explain why you went all the way back to the pitch at nearly midnight when you really didn't want to."

"That was just because I didn't want his mother to decapitate me if she found out I lost her ring!" Ginny burst out.

"It would also explain why you've been feeling so different about wearing it all the time," Hermione continued, undeterred. "Maybe you just feel safer with it on."

"Then why have I been wanting to take it off more and more?" Ginny asked triumphantly as if she'd just made an undeniable point.

"Because it makes you frightened that you feel that safe and comfortable around him now," Hermione answered calmly. "And you're not sure that he feels the same way, so it's your way of denying your feelings."

Ginny's mouth opened, then closed. She shook her head. She opened her mouth again. "Oh Merlin," she moaned in horror, dropping her head heavily on the table.

-----

"Feel free to congratulate me at your earliest convenience," Blaise said smugly in the face of Draco's silent dismay.

"For what?" Draco snapped.

"For figuring it out before you did," Blaise answered smoothly.

Draco opened his mouth angrily, but before he could retort, a quiet panic overtook him and he dropped his head into his hands, a gesture Blaise had only seen him use once before.

"Oh Merlin," he said, quietly but with feeling.